Challenging Paradigms: Buddhism and Nativism

Framing Identity Discourse in Buddhist Environments

Edited by Henk Blezer Mark Teeuwen

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2013 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Challenging paradigms: Buddhism and nativism. Framing identity discourse in Buddhist environments / Edited by Henk Blezer, Mark Teeuwen. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-23107-8 (hardback : alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-90-04-25568-5 (e-book : alk. paper) 1. Buddhism--Relations. 2. Buddhism and culture. 3. Nativistic movements. I. Blezer, Henk, editor of compilation. II. Teeuwen, Mark, editor of compilation.

BQ4600.B825 2013 305.6’943--dc23 2013018460

ISBN 978-90-04-23107-8 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-25568-5 (e-book)

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. TABLE OF CONTENTS

BUDDHISM AND NATIVISM: FRAMING IDENTITY DISCOURSE IN BUDDHIST ENVIRONMENTS Mark Teeuwen and Henk Blezer ...... 1

THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU (LAND OF THE GODS) IDEOLOGY IN JAPAN Satō Hiroo...... 29

THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM Mark Teeuwen...... 51

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS, VARIEGATED CURRENTS AND ALIEN ELEMENTS: CONTRIBUTION TO THE ORIGINS AND EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF NEW BÖN AND ITS REVELATIONS Jean-Luc Achard...... 77

THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE: SOME THOUGHTS ON THE RMA CLAN AND THE MANNER OF BSGRAGS PA BON, AND ON ‘ETERNAL’ BÖN, NEW TREASURES, AND NEW BÖN Henk Blezer ...... 123

RITUAL INDIGENISATION AS A DEBATED ISSUE IN TIBETAN BUDDHISM (11TH TO EARLY 13TH CENTURIES) Dan Martin...... 159

BUDDHIST NATIVISM IN ITS HOMELAND Johannes Bronkhorst...... 195

THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION: INDONESIAN HINDU-BUDDHISM BETWEEN RITUAL INTEGRATION, NATIONAL CONTROL AND NATIVIST TENDENCIES Annette Hornbacher...... 205

O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE, OR: HOW NATIVISM ENJOYED ITS 15 MINUTES OF F(R)AME IN MEDIEVAL KOREA Remco Breuker ...... 229 vi TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS ...... 259

GLOSSARY...... 263

MAPS...... 275

INDEX ...... 281

BUDDHISM AND NATIVISM: FRAMING IDENTITY DISCOURSE IN BUDDHIST ENVIRONMENTS

MARK TEEUWEN AND HENK BLEZER

Who never wondered, when observing emerging religions from some distance, why some of the emerging traditions make such a big deal out of being different from their competitors, while they in fact appear so confusingly similar to those ‘others’ in doctrine, belief, ritual practice, or outlook? Good examples are Shinto in Buddhist Japan, Bön and Buddhist traditions in Tibet, or Islam in its Judeo- Christian environment. More specifically, in such competitive fields, we also see clashes between newly arising universalising ‘systems’ and localising traditions that claim authority based on being native to the area. In some other cases, these patterns do not seem to show, and forms of complementarity and pluralism seem to appear instead. The present volume is the result of a collaborative effort by several regional specialists, who all in various ways grapple with the problematic of nativism and the ubiquitous phenomenon of framing of identity discourse within Buddhist environments. This is a companion volume to a more broadly designed edited volume on the emergence of religions of a subdominant type; that is, of religions that emerge in the face of a dominant ‘other’. That earlier volume also addresses the wider issue of framing of discourse, and was the first opportunity for the editors, whose regional specialisations (Tibet and Japan) rarely meet, to sit down, adjust their methodological clocks and marvel at the synchronicity of much of their observations. The present and more specific quest into nativist framings of religious discourse first arose from the collective inspiration, perspiration and frustration of these two researchers, who for their research both happen to consider the emergence of ‘native’, or at least ‘nativist’ traditions on the fringes of Buddhist world: Bön in Tibet, and Shinto in Japan. Their struggles were later joined by the efforts and wisdom of several peers, for both edited volumes. All are colleagues who labour in similar academic niches, up until then in relative isolation. 2 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

In spite of the fact that Bön and Shinto are very different in most respects, their study has been hampered by a remarkably similar set of problems. The first is that both Bön and Shinto have been branded ‘indigenous’. As a result, their relationship with Buddhism is by definition problematic, because any recognition of Buddhism’s overwhelming influence compromises their so-called indigenous status. This has caused the study of these traditions to be isolated from that of Buddhism, as uniquely ‘local’ phenomena that are of interest only to Tibetologists and Japanologists. Yet, we are convinced that both Bön and Shinto emerged in response to and in close dialogue with Buddhism and thus have to be accommodated in a continuum of localised forms of Buddhist culture. Bön and Shinto represent two disparate outcomes of a tendency that may be recognised also in other Buddhist settings: the creation of a local identity discourse that, directly or indirectly, roots the Dharma in native soil and history, and in doing so ‘frames’ the local in that Dharma. Looking for a term that could capture the dynamics of this localising tendency and reframing, we landed on the admittedly un- fashionable word ‘nativism’. We do not embrace it with much confidence, but simply take it on board as a conceptual tool, partly for lack of a better candidate, and partly because this term is much used in Japanese studies. In this volume we seek to understand nativism as a special strategy for framing a subdominant identity discourse in terms of a dominant ‘other’. The aim of this new collection of essays is therefore also to look for a comparative perspective on the use of such nativist strategies in the construction of identity discourses in Buddhist environments, and the co-emergent Buddhist framing. In the case of both Bön and Shinto, the most prominent features of nativism are a clash between universalising and localising cultural systems, and a resulting revisionist reconstruction of the past, which prioritises the aboriginal and the locally specific above the foreign and the universal. We distinguish two major aspects of the problematic of nativism and pose these here as working hypotheses: 1) The cultural dynamics and social historical context of nativism. Nativist reconstructions occur most often among subdominant groups, in situations where another, dominant discourse that looks somewhat similar (either through proximity or convergence) enters or rises to dominance. INTRODUCTION 3

2) The historiographical narrative strategies that we find employed in nativist historical reconstructions. We observe that subdominant discourse, curiously, often tends to define a distinct nativist identity in terms of dominant discourse. This process we refer to as ‘framing’. We also observe that nativist historiography typically reveals a considerable time-distance between its projected or invented origins and the time that the discourse actually arose. We hypothesise that while Bön and Shinto may represent exceptional cases, Buddhism has sparked, confronted or displayed similar nativist tendencies wherever it settled and gained dominance in the non-modern world. Only comparative studies can help us understand what encouraged nativism in some contexts and suppressed it in others. We use a bifurcated approach: 1) through social- historical, sociological, and anthropological readings of the contexts of nativism we study its cultural dynamics; and 2) through historical, text-critical and text-historical work we study nativist historical reconstructions, their revisionist bent and framings.

1. NATIVISM IN BUDDHIST ASIA: A SOCIAL-HISTORICAL PREAMBLE The dissemination of Buddhism across Asia has often been described as the triumph of a universal world religion over local cults. As Bud- dhism arrived in a new place, whether this was Tibet, Burma, Japan or China, the deities of the land were submitted to the universal laws of karma, and local practices were either displaced or subordinated to the universal Buddhist project of bringing enlightenment to the world. Significantly, Buddhism enabled kings to frame their power in universal terms and rise above the cauldron of localised power (e.g., Tambiah 1976); also, monks offered new techniques to deal with the violence of local deities (DeCaroli 2004). The trans-local nature of the Dharma was consciously cultivated by the monastic community through what were perceived as ‘exotic’ or foreign linguistic and ritual forms, and also through frequent references to far-flung places and long timelines. Thus, Buddhism created a tension between the universal and the local that can be traced wherever the religion took root in the non-modern world.1

1 This observation of course mainly applies to the spread of Buddhism in non- modern periods. Moreover, the distinction universal-local au fond of course is an

4 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

While this tension typically expressed itself in an emphasis on the universal nature of the Dharma, it also created a stage for what we should like to style a nativist response. Occasionally, this took the form of a reinterpretation or reframing of the local in Buddhist terms, as the ultimate essence of the universal Dharma. Thus, Buddhists throughout Asia ‘mandalised’ territories, for example defining the royal capital as the centre of the Buddhist universe, or identifying local mountains with Sumeru or Vulture Peak. In some places, such as Japan, local deities were even raised to the status of the ultimate essence of the World Buddha, in a discourse that reflected on the superiority of the Japanese territory over China and India. The idea that Japan was on the margins of the Buddhist world, a peripheral land like “scattered grains of millet” in the ocean off Jambudvīpa, was countered by the opposite view, which saw Japan as the original Buddha land from which the Dharma has emerged, either in historical terms, or in metaphysical ones. Nativism of this kind—whether it merely looks Buddhist in its orientation or is Buddhist in its actual sectarian affiliation—is ubiquitous (even though certainly not without exception and variant) throughout the Buddhist world, yet nativism appears to be understudied, both in its regional variety and as an analytical category. In particular, we see it as a problem that Buddhist forms of nativism have often been regarded as local syncretistic corruptions, each unique to the country in which they occurred. This has contributed to a dearth of comparative perspectives. It is striking that in some cases Buddhist traditions, while settling in locally, have triggered the development of nativist ‘local’ cults into increasingly autonomous traditions, while in other cases it has not. Both scenarios are equally illuminating for the bigger questions asked in this volume and we therefore have included case studies for both. In general, Buddhism, when ‘going native’, has tended to relegate local deities to the lower echelons of the divine hierarchy, ranked below those who are partially or completely enlightened. intellectual construct. For most of its history, Buddhism has mainly existed in ‘local’ settings and will be met in particular ‘local’ variants. So-called Buddhist modernism and Global Buddhism, affected by modern or late modern ‘glocal’ agendas, are notable exceptions. The spread of modernist and global varieties of Buddhism clearly answers to different dynamics; cf. Baumann (2001) and McMahan (2008). INTRODUCTION 5

There was therefore little potential for such subordinated local cults to challenge Buddhism; the containment within Buddhism of the ‘spirit religion’ of Sri Lanka (Gombrich et al. 1988) and the ‘spirit cults’ in Thailand (Tambiah 1970) is typical. Yet in some cases, local cults have managed to break free from this Buddhist policy of containment and come into their own as an autonomous or even anti-Buddhist force. Shinto and Bön are two examples of nativist traditions that were triggered by Buddhism but broke free from the Buddhist mould; the Burmese cult of nats represents a case where nativism has remained subsumed within Buddhism (see the Emerging Religions volume). The precise nature of the manner of subordination of local deity cults by Buddhism, notably in Tibet, Japan, Burma, but also in native India and Nepal, would definitely merit an edited volume of its own. In Japan, nativism, empowered by Buddhist universalisation of the local, set the stage for the development of Shinto into an independent tradition. Similar dynamics can be observed for emerging Bön.2 Buddhist attempts at containing local cults, typically phrased as ‘taming’ local deities or converting local deities to become protectors of Buddhism, became one of the historiographical master narratives in later accounts of the early establishment of Buddhism in Tibet. Also the nativist emancipation of local cultures, by groups who in privileging ways associate with then, is entirely comparable.3 Bön- pos, the adherents of the Bön religion, indeed claim to be heirs of so- called indigenous4 or pre-Buddhist culture and deity cults in Tibet.

2 Kawaguchi may have been the first to intuit similarities in construction of identity narratives in Bön and Shinto: Ekai Kawaguchi, Three Years in Tibet, p.131 & 562, Madras: Theosophical Publishing House, 1909. 3 That elusive craquelé of early local cultures, in later historiographical reconstructions, typically appears truncated as a monolithic pre-Buddhist ‘Bön’ culture. Parts of various occasionally highly diverse but genuinely ancient (ritual) narratives, myths, names of persons and localities and the like are incorporated eclectically and piecemeal into new narrative contexts. 4 This is a term that, following early ethnographic studies, Bönpos themselves now prefer to use. It has its history of use, not only in Bön, but also in early anthropological literature. For obvious reasons the term is better avoided as a descriptive category (Guenther 2006 and cf., Barnard 2006). Saugestadt (2001:43) associates indigenous peoples vis-à-vis nation states with first-come, non- dominance, cultural difference, and self-ascription. 6 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

The study of the historical origins of Bön turns out to be very much an inquiry into the dialogic dynamics of the construction of religious identity that typically occurs in the presence of a powerful rival, in this case Tibetan Buddhists. A few characteristics of emerging Bön identity discourse are: 1. Its explicitly revisionist and employs nativist strategies. 2. In its historical narratives it reveals the typical dialogic or occasionally even polemic features of a subdominant vis-à-vis a dominant discourse. 3. Bön expressly dons the garb of the eternal underdog: of the marginal and marginalised in Tibetan society. 4. Eventually, it consciously develops anti-syncretistic tendencies. Bön shares these characteristics with Shinto; yet the particular strategies chosen by Bön and Shinto writers are strikingly different. Bön focused on creating a canon comparable to that of Buddhism, on imagining a founder older and more impressive than Śākyamuni, and a foreign land of origin even more prestigious and more mysterious than Buddhist India. Thus the main strategies are historiographical reconstructions of antecedents, and mostly employ the temporal aspects for narrativising identity. Shinto writers, on the other hand, have typically prided themselves on not having a canon or founder and concentrated their efforts on sanctifying the Japanese islands themselves, rather than construing a distant land of origin. The main Shinto strategy therefore has been self-conscious re-conceptualisation of Japan as a sacred space and the centre of the known world. This moves the spatial aspects into the very hub of their narrativ- isation of identity. Shinto, then, faced the same problem as Bön in that its proponents sought to create a distinct identity within a Buddhist environment that had profoundly shaped their worldview and vocabulary, but, interestingly, the actual strategies employed and the answers offered by Shinto thinkers have generally pointed in opposite directions of the Bön designs. Traditions that may appear small and ‘exotic’ at times manage to shed remarkably clear light on problems of much wider impact. The culture dynamics of nativist reconstructions of local cultures may be a case in point. By addressing nativism in Buddhist communities in its different guises we hope to gain a comparative aspect on developments in Buddhist states across Asia: INTRODUCTION 7

• How did Buddhists juggle the universal or foreign nature of the Dharma with the need to empower and sanctify the local? • What discursive strategies were used? • What responses emerged locally? • To what degree did these Buddhist strategies and their local responses create an opening for advocates of local cults to challenge Buddhism? • What were the narrative and historiographical strategies that nativists used to reconfigure themselves and pre-emptively to reframe their identity in the prestige of key terms of the dominant discourse?

2. HISTORIOGRAPHY The problematic of nativist reconstruction of an identity that is historically defined, by its very nature, is a problem of historiography. It demands careful analysis of the religious historical construction and framing of identity narratives. We study how, under specific circumstances that are conducive to nativism, nativist identity vectors emerge from religious historical narratives, and how history is construed and framed. Nativist constructions of antecedents typically project a wide gap between the narrated origins and the origins of the historical narratives. Bön religious histories, for example, put their origins and the birth of their founder as far back as the 16th millennium BC—in the Indian Palaeolithic. Yet, the first sources that reveal some form of organised Bön that also refers to itself as such appear no earlier than the turn of the first millennium AD. Shinto, too, has made a point of placing its origins in a pre-Buddhist, primordial past, even though the earliest evidence of self-conscious Shinto sectarianism dates from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. This wide gap infuses the historical narratives of Bön and Shinto with considerable creative tensions. But because of those tensions, these narratives more easily reveal their logic of construction. This historiographical configuration suggests that the problematic of invention of antecedents may involve a systematic strategy: because history draws a blank and the time gap is so extreme, we feel confronted by an artifi- cial, almost completely in vitro cultivation or synthesis of ancient antecedents. 8 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

A METHODOLOGICAL PREAMBLE: CULTURE COMPARISON AND TRAVELLING CONCEPTS

With our trans-regional and trans-historical collaboration, we obviously engage in culture comparison of some sort, be it more of the type of a juxtaposition of the cultural dynamics of framing and nativism. While it will not be feasible in this volume to cover new ground in terms of theoretical reflection on the problematic field of culture comparison, we at least wish to proceed with sufficient awareness of the relevant discourse, and we will attempt to engage that in a responsible manner. Perhaps more than in culture comparison per se, we are interested in working from shared and more often than not ‘borrowed’ concepts in the humanities and social sciences, and specifically in interregion- al and interdisciplinary settings: nativism, (anti)syncretism, and framing of discourse are examples of such shared working concepts. Mieke Bal (2002:11ff) offers a compelling plea for such inter-sub- jectivity and for the use of concepts in interdisciplinary study of culture. The results of such joint quests are not necessarily easily for- malised into models, but that is also not a prime aim of this volume. When, based on such a common ground of shared working concepts, the contributors to this volume discuss well-defined cultural dynamics of the framing of discourse and the special case of nativism in comparable regional situations, interesting patterns of descriptive and analytical resonance emerge, but also insightful divergences. These patches of recognition and difference apparently are discern- able, intersubjectively, and stimulate debate. The working concepts provided a shared point of departure, which has proven to be helpful and inspired further analyses. These patterns also recommended the basic lay-out for this volume. To facilitate full appreciation of these patterns of resonance and difference, individual contributions are not strictly arranged according to region but around analytical fault lines: 1. Spatially: re-conceptualisation of sacred space; 2. Temporally: revisualising the past; and 3. Relationally: dominance and pluralism. But first we need to define some working concepts and terminology and engage further theoretical considerations: framing, nativism, syncretism and anti-syncretism, pluralism. INTRODUCTION 9

FOUNDATIONAL THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: DEFINITION OF TERMS

Framing5—The approximate context of use of the term “framing” has been introduced in the preceding historiographical reflections. It is a term that is not yet densely annotated in secondary sources and its use appears relatively unproblematic, or in any case less involved than some of the other terms engaged.6 Basically, a frame is an interpretative scheme, which of course operates in a given social, conventional context. It is a scheme that helps people, individually or collectively, to organise, in conventional ways, events and activities, and their ‘experience’ of them; that is, it helps people to select and interpret memories and make sense of their world, and, as needed, to create a consistent narrative of identity, or plot a meaningful course of action. In this book, framing is used on the relatively high level of discourse and there specifically targets processes of framing of subdominant discourse in a context of domination by a new or foreign discourse—more concretely: the borrowing or expanding of Bud- dhist discourse in order to give new meaning to local phenomena. When, for example, Japanese waka poetry was redefined as a short- cut to enlightenment, revealed by the buddhas only in the sacred land of Japan, such an argument crossed the bounds of conventional Bud- dhist ‘theology’,7 and also of traditional waka poetics. Interestingly, both Buddhism and poetics were reframed in the process, producing a new discourse that existed in a kind of borderland between established fields of knowledge. While being thoroughly integrated in Buddhism for a while, it would later prove vulnerable to accusa- tions of syncretism and heterodoxy. Framing, then, was one of the most obvious techniques used by Japanese nativists to make established and authoritative traditions say new things, and, especially, to construct a new local identity from within a Buddhist framework that was obviously not local.

5 What Martin in his essay calls ‘reframing’ is part of this phenomenon. 6 For a very useful introduction to the general issue of framing and an orientation on possible applications, scope of use, and explanatory power of the concept, see, e.g., Goffman’s Frame Analysis, An Essay on the Organisation of Experience (1974); for further references see bibliography. 7 By “Buddhist theology” we here mean the orthodox body of Buddhist scripture and exegesis with Indian or Chinese credentials. 10 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

Nativism—By the term nativism we refer to the phenomenon that alternative, usually subdominant identity discourses arise in response to the influx or sudden rise to prominence of a dominant ‘other’. In a reactive, self-conscious, revisionist, and often subdominant reconstruction of ‘self’, such discourses systematically refer back to an ‘aboriginal’ or ‘indigenous’ past that, more often than not, appears invented in an Hobsbawmian sense. Nativist identity discourse thus is characterised by revisionist and polemical tendencies; it is dialogically aligned along a relevant divide of ‘self’ and ‘other’, in a subdominant discourse; and, in its more self-conscious forms, it may even show anti-syncretistic tendencies (discussed in more detail below) and appear concerned to excise the non-native. In modern neo-pagan contexts, where invention of pagan and/or aboriginal antecedents is engaged more deliberately, ‘polytheistic reconstruction- ism’ is commonly used to refer to this particular self-conscious variety of systematic invention of culture. The term ‘nativism’ has been used in a wide range of meanings by scholars within history of religions, sociology, cultural anthropology, and psychology, and not all uses apply here; in fact most do not. In this volume, the term does not refer to the more narrowly defined political nativism, which is a common term in debate about immigrants by populations that consider themselves native or autoch- thonous (in these debates nativism often appears closely allied to racism). Nor does it refer to psychological nativism, as in the neuro- philosophical debate in cognitive and brain sciences about hard- wired nature versus the acquired nurture behaviour (as in ‘moral nativism’ or ‘inborn morality’). Rather, we draw on Ralph Linton’s classic characterisation of nativism, as the attempt or ambition to revive or perpetuate aspects of indigenous culture in response to a perceived threat from other cultures (Linton 1943). For our purposes, self-conscious (and thus often anti-syncretistic) nativism perhaps most closely approaches anthropological readings, phrased from a discourse of colonialism: nativism is a “social movement that proclaims the return to power of the natives of a colonised area and the resurgence of native culture, along with the decline of the colonisers”.8

8 Excerpted from the on-line Columbia Encyclopedia, sixth edition, 2007. For

INTRODUCTION 11

Syncretism9—Other crucial terms for our analyses are the pair ‘syncretism’ and ‘anti-syncretism’. These are highly problematic terms that we should recommend using only with great care. Syncretism is both inconveniently and conveniently vague. While in religious studies, syncretism has often been used as a pejorative label (so not as an analytical category), signifying local corruptions of world religions, it has recently been recouped by anthropologists who have begun to employ the word as a positive description of local resistance against hegemonies with universalistic pretensions (see Stewart and Shaw 1994). Another problematic aspect is that its usage seems to imply the pre-existence of a ‘pure’ native tradition prior to the onset of syncretism, without critically examining the former. In various ways, that uncritical usage is implicated in a nostalgia for pure and truly authentic cultures,10 still reflecting the now long obsolete notion of pure races—clearly a heritage of colonial concerns—and in the concomitant rejection of hybrid identities, which therefore are considered inauthentic and corrupt. Subsequent academic projects of salvaging ‘pure tradition’ from the onslaught of ‘modernity’ are equally problematic, and upon closer analysis they fall victim to the familiar dichotomies of Western Self and Non-Western Other,11 modernity and tradition,12 etc. Moreover, that presumption of pure antecedents renders the term syncretism problematic also in another respect, when we are dealing specifically with local religions such as Shinto or Bön. The emergence of such traditions typically involves invention of ‘native’ cults inspired by and hence partly framed in Buddhist discourse. There may well be good arguments for reviving syncretism as an analytical category, but if it is to be meaningfully invoked, it will be necessary to recast our understanding of this concept. In a separate lemma we will take care to distinguish the idea of syncretism from pluralism.

more on the concept of nativism, see Teeuwen in this volume. 9 Dan Martin styles this ‘mixings’. 10 Starting with works by James Clifford and George Marcus (1986) and James Clifford (1988). 11 Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson. (1997:1–46) and (1997a:33–51). 12 Al Sayyad, Nezar (2004:1–28). 12 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

In contrast, the term anti-syncretism13 appears less problematic; indeed, it is of great importance for our inquiries. It describes the emergence of an implied value judgement that if a certain tradition is syncretistic, it therefore also is ‘impure’, and it explains subsequent attempts at eradicating this syncretism in the name of a truly ancient and ‘pure’ indigenous ideal that is invariably invented, or at least reinvented, without much regard for the actual past, and with all the more historiographical creativity. Anti-syncretism, thus defined, becomes a tangible and easily recognisable companion of nativism. By necessity, self-conscious nativism will eventually become overtly anti-syncretistic—while at the same time often being covertly ‘syncretistic’, or at least ‘assimilative’, from an etic point of view.

Pluralism—Two contributors independently engage pluralism. It appears a useful tool for conceptualising multi-cultural dynamics. Since they took care to define the usage, we may confine ourselves to pointing out the particularities of their usage and the relationship of pluralism to such concepts as nativism, syncretism, and the like. Breuker, for Korea, defines pluralism as: ... an ideology that allows the existence of contradictions and inconsis- tencies between its constituent parts. Pluralism in this sense accepts the alternative or simultaneous use of contradictory and incommensur- able approaches, but ‘unifies’ these in one—aggregative instead of synthesised—worldview. He takes care to distinguish it from ‘syncretism’ and relativism: whereas syncretism incorporates different elements (with differing degrees of completion) into a new entity (in which one element may come to dominate), pluralism does not do so, but instead maintains the differences. He further develops pluralism in contradistinction to ‘monism’:14 [a]t once the opposite value of pluralism and syncretism, monism is the notion (which may be articulated into a system of thought, an ideology, a set of religious beliefs) that reality is formed by a single ultimate principle or kind of being instead of two or more.

13 Dan Martin styles this ‘rejections’. 14 Here not used in its usual philosophical, legal or political connotations. INTRODUCTION 13

Put very succinctly: Pluralism ... acknowledges the possible existence of more than one ultimate principle. Syncretism attempts to unify different principles. Monism, however, categorically denies the possibility of the existence of different ultimate principles. Breuker thus defines syncretism more narrowly than do we in this introduction: we also allow the term to catch significant ‘mixings’ (as coined by Dan Martin) that take place, without any conscious effort to unify or incorporate different principles into a new entity. Hornbacher, for Bali, also makes copious use of the concept pluralism. Like Breuker, she stresses the difference between pluralism and syncretism, but, from a different perspective, consonant with the situation in Bali. She highlights that distinction and maintenance of difference are deliberate, and points out that this implies a degree of emic reflexivity. An emic concern for conflict management is implicit: (integrative religious) pluralism as conscious effort and— viewed etically—an alternative for managing difference: “... pluralism should not be mistaken as the outcome of an unconscious and automatic ‘syncretism’, rather it is the result of a reflexive differentiation between religious doctrines and spiritual essence that implies a deliberate separation and distinction of different religious teachings.” A few observations on the relationship between these terms are in order. Pluralism is not just an alternative etic model or emic strategy, next to ‘syncretism’. The two terms indeed are not equivalents. Even within the wider definition of ‘syncretism’ that we engage here, one probably will have to agree to that assessment. A further point to consider, however, is that working concepts of this kind are all about perspectives for viewing and analysing particular situations: hence they are merely convenient and situational artifices and not essential to the field. One might argue that they are part of the manner we choose to lay out, or in fact determine, our field when studying it. Let us take the case of Korean nativism as an example. The analytical perspective on ‘Myoch’ŏng’s twelfth century rebellion’ can be developed in different ways. Considering that nativism is the working concept that forms the point of departure of this volume, the case of Myoch’ŏng’s nativism, in its rise, its fifteen minutes of fame, and subsequent demise, obviously shows the dynamics of nativism but also reveals its framing in dominant forms of Buddhist discourse. 14 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

Viewed specifically from the point of view of Buddhist competitors to the nativist alternative in Korea (and vice versa), in the concrete niche of their ritual services and the like—so not viewed from the whole pluralist picture—the nativist alternative appears (or is actively ‘framed’) as syncretistic: for it incorporates Buddhist discourse to a substantial degree. Viewed from Korean society and state at large, the dynamics between dominant Buddhist discourse and emerging nativism in Korea may more productively be framed as pluralism. What we need to address in more depth and detail is how these conceptualisations coexist and may relate, methodologically. We propose to view pluralism here as an analytical concept that is of a different and higher hierarchical epistemic order than nativism or even framing. Pluralism facilitates viewing the general manner and configuration in which several cultural traditions or political factions and their discourses relate when they meet. Such a perspective is not necessarily informative about the particulars of their relations. Within pluralism, we may find relations between equals or between distinctly dominant and subdominant groups that reveal forms of framing, with anti-syncretism and nativism as a special case; or, alternatively, they may tend toward the ‘mixings’ of so-called syncretism. The study of Korean nativism thus may profit from analyses against backgrounds of both pluralism and nativism, and perhaps even ‘syncretism’, depending on the task at hand. These models do not compete, but complement each other: the focus is simply different and thus reveals different aspects. The last thing we would like to do is argue in a blanket manner for one perspective over another. As the included case studies hopefully will demonstrate, the added value resides in our choice, as a group, to lay out our field of analyses in terms of specific working concepts. Breuker’s opposition pluralism-monism seems particularly useful for the study of processes of state formation and centralised control. In this context one could refer to the co-emergence of the rise of centralised states (and the concomitant loss of tribal structures) and ‘jealous’ monotheisms, in the Middle East,15 or to the crucial role of universalising ideologies of Buddhism in establishing mandalised Buddhist territories in South(-east) and in Central Asia.

15 See Günter Lüling in the companion volume on Emerging Religions. INTRODUCTION 15

A case in point is the role of Buddhism in consolidating the conquests of the Tibetan Empire at the end of the first millennium, in breaking tribal power, and in bridging ethnic and factional divides; or, for that matter, in managing relations with their Mongol over- lords, starting roughly half a millennium later. Monism and pluralism thus appear as different strategies for managing centralised control. But pursuing this here would lead us beyond our current interests.

THEMATIC COMPARATIVE ANALYSES

From these perspectives, based on these theoretical foundations, and with these analytical tools, we will attempt to compare emerging nativist traditions in Buddhist Asia. Such a comparative approach directs our attention toward historiographical problems that relate to the phenomenon of systematic (re-)invention of culture, which each of us are up against in our own regions and periods. Tradition, per definition, is conceptualised as rooted in the past and concerned with continuity and preservation over time. Yet, in practice, the past is continually reinvented and renegotiated according to the present, be it in ways that are ‘traditionally’ deemed authoritative. When we take into account the varying conditions and parameters, which only become fully apparent when we consider the different regional embeddings, various aspects of the problematic of such ‘traditions of invention’ come into view. Subdominant Bön identity discourses, for example, emerge in active dialogue with more powerful Buddhist rivals under systematic, apparently nativist reference to a presumed pre-Buddhist past; yet, at the same time Bön discourse often is demonstrably framed in Buddhist terms. It is very revealing to compare this historiographical configuration to the parameters for emerging discourses of Shinto in Japan, which we also find ‘placed’ over against Buddhist presence, but within a differently flung set of parameters. Two edited volumes down the road, it indeed turns out to be of tremendous benefit if experts are able to exercise their ideas and methodologies in concert, applied to different regions and periods, and coming from widely varying angles. It clarifies much in terms of perspective and detailed hands-on expertise, also on the level of tips and analytical tricks. Some methodological ‘topics’ and points of departure for our investigation have been the following: 16 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

1. Traditional religious histories and antecedents typically are created some time after the facts. Simply put: religious groups start writing respectable histories and laying out their antecedents only somewhat later, when the necessity arises to formulate a self-conscious separate identity, such as may be the case when they are confronted by the presence of an ‘other’. 2. In the special case of the arrival or sudden rise to dominance of a (new) religious ‘system’ in the region, such as often was the case in the establishment of Buddhism in Asia, alternative identity discourses may occur that engage sustained references to more or less well-known, presumed aboriginal antecedents, involving visualisations of both time and space. 3. We should specifically consider possible clashes of universalising and localising strategies. 4. As a working hypothesis, one might posit that the initial level of organisation of ‘receiving’ local traditions (such as in Burma) determines whether a nativist response to Buddhist influx will develop into an autonomous self-conscious identity. 5. Along the same vein and as a further working hypothesis, one might consider that a long history of various coexisting cultural influences, such as in India, Indonesia, China, or Bali, before the rise (India) or arrival of Buddhism, are less likely to result in a distinct nativist response and are more likely to produce forms of complementarity, perhaps best captured in terms of pluralism. 6. Nativist notions of a local ‘self’ are systematically reinvented in communication with a dominant foreign ‘other’. Identity implies difference after all. Thus nativist discourse is fundamentally predicated on categories of ‘self and other’. Emergence of nativist identity discourse is therefore by definition a dynamic and dialogic or multi-logic process. 7. Paradoxically and typically, following the power of established discourse, nativist identity discourse tends to frame itself in key terms from the discourse of the dominant other, from which it wishes to stand apart in the first place. 8. In nativist reconstructions of identity, we are not just dealing with isolated cases of ‘invention of tradition’ (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983) but rather with systematic ‘traditions of invention’. By engaging different case studies, we hope to gain better understanding of the underlying cultural dynamics. INTRODUCTION 17

A BRIEF SUMMARY

If certain basic parameters are similar, subdominant emerging religious traditions may show striking parallels in the dynamics of their development and in particular in the production and invention of religious origin ‘myths’. These narrative framings relate to their perceived earliest antecedents and ‘location’ of origins. More in general, under these conditions we may observe similarities in the manner in which identity discourses eventually emerge vis-à-vis a dominant cultural presence. In brief resume:

1. The presence or arrival of a religious competitors (many players, equal in power, may not encourage nativist responses) 2. Who occupy a similar cultural niche and 3. Therefore will closely resemble the emerging religious nativism; 4. A clash between universalist and localist interests & discourses; 5. A considerable time difference between the narrated origins and the origins of the narratives; 6. A revisionist bent in historiographical strategies; 7. Dialogic and polemical character of religious historical writing; 8. More often than not, framing of the nativist discourse in key terms of the dominant other discourse; and lastly, 9. Self-consciously nativist traditions may also manifest anti- syncretistic tendencies, paradoxically excising the very dominant discourse that they framed themselves from.

THE INDIVIDUAL ESSAYS IN THIS VOLUME

From these considerations and within a well-defined domain of regional cultural forms, we will attempt to correlate case studies on nativist traditions within Buddhist environments. The volume covers regions in East, Central, South and South-East Asia, and has a complementary, regionally broader predecessor in the volume Emerging Religions, which besides these regions of Asia also covers parts of the Near East. However, as stated before, we arrange individual articles not according to region but in consonance with comparative aspect, optimally juxtaposing the cultural dynamics observed. 18 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

The present volume opens with contributions on the spatial aspect of nativist framing in East Asia: two complementary chapters on Japanese nativism that engage each other in argument, by Mark Teeuwen and Satō Hiroo. Another contribution on East Asia, Korea, is included toward the end of the volume. Comprehensive, temporally contiguous chapters on early China by Kai Vogelsang (earliest period) and Stephan-Peter Bumbacher (starting from the Buddhist period) appear in the Emerging Religions volume, because, by the nature of the cultural dynamics in the field, these appear less involved with the issue of nativism. The present volume furthermore contains four contributions with a focus on the temporal aspect: two complementary chapters on Tibet, by Jean-Luc Achard and Henk Blezer; one on cultural translations from India to Tibet by Dan Martin; and one specifically on India, by Johannes Bronkhorst (a further chapter on India by Jan Heesterman appears in the Emerging Religions volume). The chapter on Bali by Annette Hornbacher engages pluralism as its main working concept and therefore has been grouped together with Remco Breuker’s article on nativism in pluralist medieval Korean society under dominance and pluralism. A contribution on Burma by Bénédicte Brac de la Perrière, for the reasons indicated above, will appear in Emerging Religions, together with extensive coverage of the Middle East by Günter Lüling.

Spatial aspect. The first two chapters deal with aspects of nativism in Buddhist Japan. Satō Hiroo addresses the notion of shinkoku, ‘land of the gods’, an epithet of Japan that has played an important role in fostering new understandings of the country’s identity in both medieval and modern times. Satō shows that the meaning of this concept changed radically in the course of its long history. Starting as a Buddhist concept, it ended up as an anti-Buddhist term associated with Shinto. In its original Buddhist context, the ‘gods’ in this expression referred to this-worldly beings subject to the higher powers of the universal Dharma; in modern shinkoku thought, the same gods were identified as imperial ancestors and served to guarantee the absolute powers of the new imperial state. Satō identifies this ‘Shinto’ understanding of shinkoku as ‘nativist’. He points out that the medieval, Buddhist version of shinkoku relativised Japan and its rulers, rather than enhancing their prestige and authority. In this Buddhist discourse, Japan’s local identity still depended on its INTRODUCTION 19 place in a universalist cosmology rather than the other way around. At the same time, Satō (like Teeuwen) rejects earlier readings which regard early shinkoku thought as a Shinto discourse ‘framed’ by Buddhism. Rather, Satō sees this concept as a product of a Buddhist attempt at explaining the position and status of Japan within the cosmos, which was later couped and reframed in non-Buddhist, or even anti-Buddhist terms. Mark Teeuwen’s chapter approaches the subject of medieval Buddhist understandings of Japan from a different angle. He points out that within the field of Japanese studies, the term ‘nativism’ is commonly used to translate kokugaku (‘national studies’), an eighteenth- and nineteenth-century movement that distanced itself from Chinese and Buddhist studies and sought to reconstruct Japan’s ‘original’ Way on purely native premises. Teeuwen argues that this early-modern nativism built on, or was a reframing of, medieval Buddhist foundations, which he terms ‘Buddhist nativism’. He thus uses the term nativism in a broader sense than Satō, to refer to all moves that give the local higher status than the universal, and he focuses on another set of Buddhist sources. Teeuwen shows that medieval Buddhists of a particular ‘Tantric’ bend privileged Japan in ‘this world’ above the Buddha-realm in the ‘other world’ and gave absolute status to the former. He finds these nativist narratives within both the Tendai and Shingon schools, which together dominated medieval Buddhism. Pursuing a Tantric logic of reversal, these schools envisioned Japan as the ‘original land’ of the World-Buddha Mahā- vairocana and pioneered the idea that Japan’s local deities, as Mahā- vairocana’s essence, are the source from which the buddhas arise. Moreover, he points out that when such a nativist discourse first emerged in the thirteenth century, it already focused on a brief list of representative topics, including Japanese poetry, the Japanese kami deities, and the imperial lineage. This list remained remarkably stable and was inherited by later forms of Japanese nativism. One such form is Shinto, whose early teachings derived from Buddhist nativism; another is the so-called kokugaku school. While Satō stresses aspects of discontinuity between earlier Buddhist and later non-Buddhist understandings of Japan as a special place, Teeuwen highlights elements of continuity. This difference is the product both of a different choice of sources and a different understanding of nativism. 20 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

Temporal aspect. Nativism has been an established term in Japanese studies since the 1970s, and discussions on the topic therefore have had to be related to existing discourse. By the nature of that discourse, a strong geographical focus is manifest, centred on Japan as the land of the gods, moving Japan from the periphery to the centre of the known universe. Both the specifics of the emergence of Shinto vis-à-vis Buddhist forms of discourse, which are discussed in the Emerging Religions companion volume, and the long-standing kokugaku discourse and its intellectual roots in medieval Buddhism, demanded our equal attention. The other regions discussed in this volume do not have such a specific history of engaging nativism. The wide cultural diversity of these other regions and their multiforms of framing and nativism are illuminating and prove very insightful. The chosen working concepts of framing and nativism bring to the fore various aspects of intra and intercultural negotiations. Like Shinto in Japan, Tibet also provides a show case for the usefulness of the concepts of framing and nativism in the study of a subdominant ‘Other’ (Bön) in a Buddhist environment, but in ways that are different in an illuminating manner. Jean-Luc Achard presently is the world specialist on a little known phenomenon within Bön in Tibet, known as New Bön. He charts out the first reliable contours for these interesting movements by discussing their history, main proponents, and, in an appendix the size of a reference work, their literary production. In his own process of discovery, he has had to readjust the criteria that until now have been used to define New Bön identity discourse, and he exposes that received position as an oversimplification of the commonly held view that New Bön is nothing but an alternative form (or nativist reframing) of the Old School of Tibetan Buddhism (rNying ma pa), or an attempt to integrate the latter’s teachings. His careful survey of textual and personal dependencies shows that these commonly held assumptions, however tenacious, simply are not borne out by the evidence. Henk Blezer’s chapter builds on these data and also cites earlier work by Anne-Marie Blondeau. Engaging the analytical perspective of framing of nativist discourse of Bön, he reveals a curious paradox in the ideology of Bön identity discourse. Bön positions itself as the Tibetan ‘other’ par excellence, but there are consistent indications that this is not the whole story. If we follow and take seriously the consistent oldest traces of Bön’s identity discourse, in mid-space the INTRODUCTION 21 pure Bön ‘other’ suddenly reveals itself as an ideal type and later ideological construct, rather than a historically lived reality. There is consistent evidence that older ‘syncretistic’ realities in Bön were later marginalised and with hindsight overlaid with notions of a tradition ab origo different from Buddhism. This ‘cover up’ includes the families that transmitted and developed such ‘syncretistic’ narratives and the areas of origin, meanwhile moving other family groups and sacred places centre stage. Bön accomplished this spectacular feat of rewriting its own history during the first half of the second millennium, probably starting the eleventh or twelfth century AD, by consistently projecting indelible realities of Buddhist mixings in its past onto a convenient internal ‘other’, New Bön; thus exonerating itself, but also placing itself outside history. This frame analysis also reveals more clearly than ever before structural similarities and differences in the construction of Bön discourse and that of the other famous ‘other’ in Tibet, namely the ‘old’ sect of Buddhism vis-à-vis the ‘newer’ ones. While location of origin clearly plays a role, it is not essential to the issue of nativism; in fact, Bönpos make the point of being part of a tradition more native to Tibet than Buddhism, but at the same time mimic the late Buddhist rhetoric of prestigious origins outside Tibet, in India, by projecting (earlier) origins from Western Tibet and beyond. In this way, Bön makes a point of dismissing Tibet as the central prop of their nativist identity. The analyses of Bön strongly stand in the temporal aspect. Dan Martin opens his chapter with a smile and with a ritual element called 'brang rgyas, so small, remote and obscure that only an expert and trained tibetologist could come up with it. What follows is a fascinating struggle to understand what 'brang rgyas means in the complex context of cultural translation from India to Tibet. By the time the uniformed reader is ready to toss the book out of the window in despair, gradually, pieces of the perplexing puzzle of ritual indigenisation start to click into place. If he has not tossed the book, the reader will discover that all that time he has been led by a true virtuoso, finally to behold, through a veritable plethora of seemingly disjointed people, texts, dates and cultural processes, the very quintessence of the book: a more nuanced and better view of processes of framing, syncretism and anti-syncretism—elegantly styled by the author as ‘reframings’, ‘mixings’ (internalising external elements), and ‘rejections’. 22 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

Johannes Bronkhorst convincingly argues that India is an exceptional case, in the present selection. For a change, Buddhism is in a subdominant role vis-à-vis Brahmanism; particularly in regard to rendering useful services to the bold and the beautiful, in court and elsewhere, on matters of organisation of state and society. Yet, this particular case study is nonetheless amenable to analysis of its culture dynamics in terms of framing, only this time of Buddhism, in the discourse of a dominant other. In fact, Indian Buddhist historiography itself has pushed the envelope of its framing even further, by retroactively writing the dominance of Brahmanical culture also into the time and place when the Buddha was born (see for instance the Buddhacarita), in spite of the fact that Brahmanism was not yet a force to be reckoned with in those regions. We thus find the paradoxical situation that Buddhists in the early centuries of the common era, nunc pro tunc, rewrite their history, electing to present Buddhism as a tradition that from the very beginning was subdominant to Brahmanism.

Dominance and pluralism. Also in Bali Buddhism is not in a dominant position. Hornbacher maintains that in Bali Buddhism appears in an even more level playing field than in India. She argues that the relations between religions in Bali, notably Buddhism and Hinduism, are primarily characterised by ritual complementarity rather than doctrinal difference, and that pluralism is the most useful term to capture that pattern; not nativism or framing, for that matter. Based on interpretation of (admittedly scant) historical data, she argues that pluralism has a long history in Bali and she also finds reason to believe that it is self-consciously maintained as a cultural norm. This does of course not imply that Balinese pluralism is devoid of competition or conflict: it is not a flat or static harmony, but a dynamic accommodation of interests of different factions, which compete and collaborate. Yet, Buddhism occasionally seems to hold the short end of the stick, so much so that one might get the impression that it has lost out disproportionately in the deal and that there may only be a difference in degree and not in kind with phenomena such as subju- gation. Peaceful coexistence of this type might suggest that the peace brokered may occasionally be ‘someone else’s peace’. But then one should critically examine any implicit assumption of a well-defined Buddhist ‘other’, outside the complementarity that is observed here. INTRODUCTION 23

Framing does make a brief appearance, in an unexpected corner. Framing of religions in Indonesia does not appear directly in their relationship with each other, but with another, clearly dominant ideological system: the state and its politics of religion. Under pressure of the state and of proselytising, dominant Islam, Hindu-Buddhism had no choice but to reframe its identity in terms of āgama, with a creator God or main deity, prophet, canon, coherent doctrine, etc. Religion is framed in the pañcaśīla state ideology—albeit rather exclusively informed by Islam (and Christianity). Remco Breuker in his essay takes us to twelfth-century Korea, where a nativist movement briefly burst onto the scene of history, with the enigmatic diviner and geomantist Myoch’ŏng. At this time, the Koryŏ state was threatened by a new neighbour, the aggressive state of Jin, which imposed tributary status on Koryŏ soon after over- throwing the Manchurian Liao in 1115. Myoch’ŏng, whose ideas are known only through the writings of his arch-enemy Kim Pushik, weighed in on the debate by presenting an unusually Koryŏ-centric view: that Koryŏ’s ruler should adopt the title of “Son of Heaven” (that is, reject tributary status), that the capital should be moved to the geomantically superior Western Capital (P’yŏngyang), and that Koryŏ should conquer the Jin and thus recover the glory of its ancient predecessors. Myoch’ŏng soon found himself caught up in an unsuccessful rebellion, and for all practical reasons his nativism died with him. Breuker proposes that Myoch’ŏng drew on a wider nativist movement that stood in opposition to established, state-sponsored Buddhism. ‘Nativist’ here refers to the fact that Myoch’ŏng elevated the idea of Koryŏ over all other values and closed the door for any compromise with foreign states who claimed ‘universal’ status. Although the few sources that survive describe Myoch’ŏng as a monk, Breuker argues that he rather was a specialist in a body of rituals (such as divination and geomancy) that was primarily peninsular in nature, although they were permeated with Buddhist, Daoist and Confucian elements. Nativist ideas and procedures were framed in Buddhist terms, and indeed, many monks engaged in the rituals of nativist ritualists; yet, the latter had few connections with institution- alised Buddhism, and Myoch’ŏng himself pursued an aggressive policy against state-sponsored monks. 24 MARK TEEUWEN & HENK BLEZER

To explain nativism’s stance, Breuker uses the term monism. Myoch’ŏng broke with the pluralist principle of Koryŏ society, which accepted the co-existence of contradictory worldviews and navigated between them, from one situation to the next; instead, he gave absolute value to one, strongly localist view. In contrast to insular Japan, Korean nativism suffered an early defeat when confronted with the realities of international politics. Perhaps for that reason, Korea did not see the development of a nativist response to Buddhism comparable to that of Japan or Tibet.

A BRIEF VOTE OF THANKS

This book is the result of a symposium with the title Nativism in Buddhist environments, hosted and sponsored by EKŌ-Haus der Japanischen Kultur in Düsseldorf, Germany, in September 2008. During the symposium and before, we discovered that our search for common ground in shared working concepts worked for us and we now feel that the time has come to share the preliminary results of our deliberations with a wider audience. It is our great pleasure and also honour to extend, on behalf of all the contributors and participants, our heartfelt thanks to the Yehan Numata Foundation, and to the EKŌ staff: director Aoyama Takao, professors Gregor Paul and Volker Beeh, and Hermann-Josef Röllicke, who all accorded us a warm welcome and have generously supported the event financially, logistically, and intellectually, in the unequalled setting of Ekō-Ji temple in Düsseldorf, an enthralling pure land indeed. We also wish to extend our deepest gratitude to the discussants: Anne-Marie Blondeau, Robert DeCaroli, and Kalsang Norbu Gurung, who came to Düsseldorf especially for that purpose, engaging us in constructive discussion; but also to the many other colleagues, who participated and generously shared their insights. Furthermore, our thanks go to the students of the Leiden University advanced BA course on Emerging Religions and Framing Discourse. They were the chosen guinea pigs, for testing an earlier version of this volume. By their astute questions and remarks they have contributed considerably to the improvement of several essays. INTRODUCTION 25

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THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU (LAND OF THE GODS) IDEOLOGY IN JAPAN

SATŌ HIROO (TŌHOKU UNIVERSITY)

INTRODUCTION

Shinkoku (“land of the gods”) is a familiar phrase for most Japanese people. It is one of those words to which different people respond in quite opposite ways: they either like it or hate it. In 1868, Japan cast aside the old samurai regime and took the steps necessary to become a modern nation-state. The greatest challenge for the new nation was to protect its independence under the increasing pressure brought by the advance of American and European powers into Asia. However, with the success of modernisation the danger of colonisation disappeared, and Japan itself began an aggressive invasion of surrounding Asian countries. At that time, the idea that Japan is the “land of the gods” (shinkoku) was considered as the basis for Japan’s overseas advancement and rule over other races. The logic used to justify Japan’s behaviour was that as the land of the gods, Japan was superior to other countries; therefore its mission was to lead the world. What, then, did this notion of shinkoku mean? When full-scale war began between Japan and China in 1937, the Japanese Ministry of Education published a book called Kokutai no hongi (Cardinal Principles of the National Entity of Japan), which stipulated the basic tenets underlying education. In this book, we can observe the following phrase: “We are a land of the gods, ruled by an emperor (Tennō) who is a living god (arahitogami)”.1 This is the formal definition of Japan as a land of the gods. In this case, “land of the gods” meant a country where the emperor descends from the kami (the native Japanese deities) and reigns as a kami himself. Japan, ruled by an emperor as kami and protected by a host of native

1 J-text (http://www.j-texts.com/showa/kokutaiah.html). 30 SATŌ HIROO deities, was the most sacred among all the countries in the world. It was historically inevitable, Kokutai no hongi claimed, that sacred Japan would lead the world. Once Japan’s defeat was a fact in 1945, the notion of shinkoku disappeared completely, at least for a while. Most Japanese people today have strong negative feelings about this phrase, but it is still cherished by some nationalists who feel attracted to such expressions.

SHINKOKU IDEOLOGY AND THE THEORY OF HONJI SUIJAKU

When and how did this concept of shinkoku, which had such a significant impact in the modern age, emerge? Kokutai no hongi claims that the notion of shinkoku developed from the time the Mongols attempted to invade Japan in the 13th century; that it was recognised as part of the “true Japanese spirit” (Yamato-damashii) at that time; and that this spirit had been passed on until the present. It then refers to the Jinnō shōtōki (Chronicles of the Authentic Lineages of the Divine Emperors), a work written by Kitabatake Chikafusa in the 14th century, which sets out by stating that “Great Japan is a land of gods”. Kokutai no hongi refers to this text as a representative example of shinkoku thought and maintains that this idea spread during the medieval period in reaction to the threat of an invasion by the Mongols. A self-conscious Japanese identity was rationalised in works such as the Jinnō shōtōki, and survived without interruption until today – such is the narrative of shinkoku as asserted by Kokutai no hongi. This image of shinkoku thought is not far removed from the one commonly held both by Japanese scholars and the general public today. The prevalent understanding of the formation of shinkoku thought is as follows. As exemplified by the spread of Buddhism, the Japanese islands were under the overwhelming influence of foreign cultures from ancient times until the early 13th century. According to the Buddhist worldview, widespread in the archipelago, Japan was a “peripheral land” (hendo) on the edge of the Buddhist cosmos, a dark society caught in the final age of Buddhist Dharma (mappō), and a place where evildoers thrived. This negative view of Japan as mappō hendo changed completely in the late 13th century. The failure of the two Mongol invasions of 1274 and 1281 confirmed Japan’s status as THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 31 a sacred land, protected by the gods and governed by a sacred descendant of those same gods. Under the influence of this idea, Japan’s superiority over other countries began to be strongly asserted. From a cultural perspective, the ideological trend of shinkoku thought was towards a greater concern with things Japanese. The time when Buddhism dominated Japanese culture as a ‘foreign culture’ had ended. It is very symbolic, received understandings claim, that due to the rise of shinkoku thought, Buddhism lost its position of cultural dominance to the ‘native culture’ of Shinto. After this, the establishment of a culture ‘unique to the Japanese people’ commenced on the archipelago. By creating a contrast between ‘Buddhism = foreign, universal’ and ‘Shinto = native, particular’ in this manner, the rise of shinkoku thought was an important step for Shinto in ‘overcoming’ Buddhism. This also meant a shift from the Buddhist worldview that understood Japan in a negative way, to a Shinto worldview in which Japan was elevated to the status of a divine realm (Furukawa 1976). This common opinion regarding shinkoku thought needs to be re- examined in all its aspects. Let us do this based on specific historical materials. When the first Mongol invasion was imminent, the Zen monk Tōgan Ean (1225–77) prayed for victory, actively preaching the idea that Japan is the land of the gods. In a ganmon (a statement of intention read before a ritual) that emphasises Japan’s status as a shinkoku, Ean asserted the following: From the time Japan came to be governed in accord with the true laws of Buddhism, kami flocked to Japan, and the whole country became a land of suijaku. (Kamakura ibun 7:4912.) In this statement, the whole country of Japan is declared to be a land of suijaku, “traces”. This word refers to manifestations of the buddhas in this world in the form of a kami. This is what is called the theory of honji suijaku, “[buddhas as the] original ground, [kami as their] traces”, which pervaded medieval society.2 For those who put forward the idea that Japan is the land of the gods, one of the reasons why Japan was favoured by the gods was exactly that the buddhas manifested themselves there as kami (Satō 2006).

2 For an introduction to honji suijaku thought, see Teeuwen and Rambelli (2003). 32 SATŌ HIROO

Statements relating the notion of shinkoku to the manifestation of kami as Buddhist traces can be found in many medieval works. In the sense that all deities in the divine land of Japan were manifestations of Buddhist divinities in changed form, kami and buddhas were, in essence, identical. Within a dual-structured cosmology that divides the universe between ‘this world’ and ‘the other world’, the notion that the buddhas from a world beyond manifest themselves as a kami in this world constituted the very framework of the concept of shinkoku during the Middle Ages.

THE COSMOLOGY OF MEDIEVAL DIETIES

Why did the buddhas manifest themselves in Japan in the form of kami? To answer this question, we must first clarify the broader worldview that framed both buddhas and kami in medieval Japan. We will do this through kishōmon, written oaths in which a broad range of deities is invoked to guarantee that promises specified in the same document will be kept. Kishōmon are a genre representative of the medieval period; there is hardly a type of documents that was familiar to a broader range of medieval people irrespective of position and rank. The most important feature of kishōmon oaths is their religious content. In kishōmon, the content of the oath was followed by a formula stating that that if the oath was broken, the persons who have signed the document will be punished by the supernatural powers of the divine realm (Satō 1971:225). For this reason, the latter section of kishōmon (called shinmon, “list of gods”), invoked various deities to carry out such punishments if the oath was broken. By analyzing the names and the arrangement of the deities that appear in these shinmon lists, we can gain an overall impression of the divine realm as it was conceived by the people of that time.3 When we examine shinmon, certain rules emerge in the ordering of the deities that appear in them. An oath known as Akanabe-no-shō hyakushō-ra rensho kishōmon (Oath signed by the assembled culti- vators of the estate of Akanabe, 1336) serves as a telling example:

3 For a more detailed analysis of the cosmological structure of kishōmon oaths, see Satō (2003). THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 33

All the people of this manor will incur, in all the pores of their bodies, the divine punishment of Bonten (Brahmā), Taishaku (Indra), and the Four Deva Kings; of Enma Hōō (Yama), the magistrates of the five realms of transmigration, the Great Bodhisattva Hachiman, the shrines of Kamo, Kasuga, Inari, Kitano, and the Seven Shrines of Hie Sannō; and particularly of Ise’s Amaterasu Ōmikami, Kumano, Hakusan, the Mishima Gongen of Izu, the Great Bodhisattva of the Nangū Hosshō Shrine, the Great Bodhisattva Hachiman of this manor, and all of the deities of the major and minor shrines in the more than sixty provinces of Japan. (Hisano 1990) Bonten, Taishaku and the Four Deva Kings appear first. These are deities of the heavens, and were identified as guardian deities when Indian deities were adopted into Buddhism. Enma Hōō and the magistrates of the five realms of transmigration (Godō Daijin) were important deities in Daoism, believed to govern people’s life and death. When Taizan Fukun and the stellar mansions, also related to Daoism, were invoked, they were also placed here, in the capacity of assistants to the heavenly deities. Next to appear are the Japanese deities of Hachiman, Kamo, and Kasuga. Japanese saints, spirits, and other kami, such as the prelate Kōbō Daishi or the imperial prince and Buddhist hero Shōtoku Taishi, are also invoked in oaths. This way of ordering (heavenly deities – Daoist deities – Japanese deities) is followed closely in all oaths without exception. In a society driven by status, a preeminent position directly reflected a hierarchical relationship and carried much meaning. If we take this to apply also to the spiritual world, we can suppose that the ordering of deities in oaths directly reflects a hierarchical relationship between these deities. In the Buddhist worldview, it was thought that Mount Sumeru stands at the centre of this physical world (the Sahā world), and the worlds where Taishaku (Indra), the Four Deva Kings, and other deities live were arrayed downward from Sumeru’s summit. Bonten (Brahmā) was the highest deity, or “master of the Sahā world” (Mahāsa3nipāta-sūtra),4 who supervised the whole of this world from his dwelling-place in the sky. Japan was placed among the outlying islands at the furthermost boundary of Sahā, far from the

4 Daihōtō daijikkyō: Gatsuzōbun: Shotennō gojibon 9. Shinran’s Kyōgyōshinshō, Keshindō kan and others cite this. 34 SATŌ HIROO centre of the world. Because of this, the Japanese kami who inhabited those small islands were ranged far below the heavenly deities who look down upon the whole world from heaven. Following the same principle, the fact that Daoist deities are listed before Japanese kami means that they enjoyed a more elevated rank than the Japanese kami. A likely rationale for this is that deities such as Enma (Yama) and Taizan Fukun covered a wider territory than the kami. Enma judged the dead of all lands, also those from beyond Japan’s national boundaries. Nevertheless, since these gods are connected with the surface (or the subterranean areas below the surface) of this Sahā world, they cannot rival the heavenly deities who watch over the Sahā world from the sky. Among the deities invoked in oaths, status and order were decided on the basis of their spatial positions and territories of control. I have identified heavenly deities, Daoist deities, and Japanese deities as the three main categories of superior beings invoked in the shinmon sections of oaths. Additionally, there is one other powerful group of divine beings also found in oaths, namely buddhas. Of note is the place these occupy in the shinmon. An oath known as Ayabe Tokimitsu-ra Kishōmon (Oath of Ayabe Tokimitsu and his party) invokes the following list of divine beings: … Bonten; Taishaku; the Four Deva Kings; Enma Hōō; the Godō Daijin; Taizan Fukun; and particularly, foremost in Japan, the guardian deities of Kumano, Mt. Kinbu, the various kami of Ōjō Chinju, the Great Buddha of the Great Temple; the Bodhisattva Hachiman … (Kamakura ibun 27:21054) Here, the “Great Buddha of the Great Temple” (i.e., Tōdaiji) appears between “the various kami of Ōjō Chinju” and “the Bodhisattva Hachiman”. Among the three groups of deities in oaths I mentioned earlier, Tōdaiji’s Great Buddha thus appears in the group of Japanese deities. This is not at all unusual for buddhas in oaths. Buddhas are invoked together with kami, as beings existing within the limited area of Japan. I must say that when I first noticed this fact, it was a surprise to me. As mentioned before, in Buddhism our physical world is called the Sahā world. However, in the universe there are innumerable worlds, collectively called the trichiliocosm. Just as the Buddha Śākyamuni appears in our Sahā world, other buddhas appear in other worlds. Amida’s Pure Land in the West is one example of this. Yet, THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 35 the buddhas of oaths were seen as existing within the limited range of Japan within the Sahā world. So how can it be that buddhas, who were originally residents of realms other than this Sahā world, came to be listed among the kami of Japan in oaths? And why are they ranked below the heavenly deities, who were merely the guardian deities of the buddhas? Looking carefully at the buddhas who appear in the shinmon of oaths with these questions in mind, it becomes clear that they share some common features. Buddhas who figure in oaths, such as Tōdai- ji’s Great Buddha, Tōdaiji Nigatsudō’s Daishō Kanjizai, Ishiyama’s Kannon, and Seiryōji’s Śākyamuni,5 are without exception enshrined in the form of an image in a particular temple hall in Japan. On the other hand, buddhas of the afterlife, such as Amida in the Pure Land, never appear. The buddhas who are invoked in oaths as beings who mete out punishment and inspire fear are not those who exist in an after-death Pure Land (‘the other world’), but are limited to those who are tangibly present, in carved or painted form, within the Sahā world (‘this world’). Once an image was enshrined in a temple hall within the archipelago, it was taken to exist in the same dimension as the Japanese kami.

THE REASON WHY BUDDHAS OF THE ‘OTHER SHORE’ MANIFEST THEMSELVES

I have pointed out that the framework of the medieval cosmology consisted of two types of transcendental beings, ‘buddhas of the other world’ and ‘deities of this world’ All the deities who mete out punishment in oaths are ‘deities of this world’. What sort of relationship did medieval people perceive between these two categories of deities, distinguished by their respective places of residence? In my opinion, these two categories were tied together by the notion of honji suijaku, “original ground and manifesting traces”. It is well known that the honji suijaku paradigm, in which buddhas were seen as the honji (“original ground”) from which the

5 For Tōdaiji’s Great Buddha (Mahāvairocana): see Kamakura ibun 7:5239; Tōdaiji Nigatsudō’s Daishō Kanjizai (Avalokiteśvara): Kamakura ibun 13:9622; Ishiyama’s Kannon (also Avalokiteśvara): Heian ibun 7:3229; Seiryōji’s Śākyamuni: “Sanshōdayū” in Muroki 1977:28. 36 SATŌ HIROO

Japanese kami arise, became popular from the late Heian period (794–1192) onwards. Honji suijaku is generally explained as to mean that buddhas take on the form of kami and appear in Japan. I argue, however, that honji suijaku was not limited to the relationship between kami and buddhas, but served to explain more broadly how ‘buddhas of the other world’ took form as ‘deities of this world’ in order to save the beings of this world. In Jōkei’s Gumei hosshin shū (c. 1200), for example, the “miraculous deities and buddhas” (reishin kenbutsu) of this world are seen as “buddhas and bodhisattvas” of the realm of enlightenment who “hide their luminance and mingle with the dust [of the Sahā world]” (wakō dōjin) in order to save “us, who are marked by the five impurities” (gojoku no warera).6 Buddhist images enshrined in Japan are themselves taken to be suijaku traces in the same manner as the kami. On the other hand, it was customary in the ancient and medieval periods to view saints and ancestors of extraordinary power as buddhas and bodhisattvas. Senjūshō, a 13th-century collection of Buddhist tales, explains that the Shingon monk Kakuban (1095– 1143) was ‘Amida Buddha in a living body’: “Amida Buddha takes on the form of an ordinary man and thus creates bonds by means of that body, so as to lead us to his Pure Land”.7 An illustrated scroll recording the life of Ryōnin, called Yūzū nenbutsu engi (1314), records that a range of deities—including Bonten (Brahmā), Taishakuten (Indra) and Jikokuten (Dhṛtarāṣṭra), “Nāgārjuna and other great masters of the sutras”, Ise, Usa, Hie, and other deities— “create karmic bonds” with sentient beings in this world. All these divine figures, the scroll argues, must be understood as “response bodies [of buddhas] who hide their luminescence by appearing as suijaku traces”. This text contrasts these deities to the buddhas of “the other side” (higan), whom it describes as “Tathāgatas who do not establish such bonds”.8 Seen in this way, all deities invoked in oaths, not only the kami but also others ranging from carved and painted images to gods, ancestors, and spirits, are backed up by buddhas and bodhisattvas of the enlightened world. In medieval

6 Kamata and Tanaka 1978:28. 7 Nishio 1970:217. 8 Yūzū nenbutsu rokki 1992:109. THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 37 times, it was common knowledge that transcendental beings of a more ultimate nature stood behind the sacred beings of this world.9 Honji suijaku served not only to bind together buddhas and kami; in a wider sense, it also connected the deities of this world with the buddhas of the other world. Not only kami but also saints, Buddhist statues, sacred relics and the like were considered to be suijaku of the buddhas. Nevertheless, the Japanese kami were the most representative among the suijaku. It was believed that by visiting shrines where a kami was present and praying there for rebirth in the Pure Land, people could receive support from that kami to fulfil their aspiration. Visiting sacred places where suijaku traces were present and praying to them was a common religious practice in medieval times. Still, this does not answer the question why was it necessary for the buddhas of the other world to go to the trouble of appearing in this world in suijaku form. The reason most commonly given in the texts is that this was necessary in order to save the evil people of mappō, the final age of the Dharma (Satō 2003). From around the 11th century onwards, Pure Land Buddhism gained popularity in Japan. Before this, the ‘real world’ was the only world there was. Pure Land faith, on the other hand, taught that this world is a transient one and that the ideal world, the Pure Land, exists elsewhere. Pure Land faith thus taught that the ideal ‘way of life’ was to leave this world upon death and be transferred to the Pure Land on “the farther shore” (higan). The question was how to reach the Pure Land. Many procedures figure in the texts, but the method that was considered most reliable in this period was to create a bond with a suijaku. Although the Pure Land of Supreme Bliss was considered to be a distant place where the wonderful Buddha resided, it was thought difficult for ordinary people to maintain faith in such an invisible paradise. After all, Japan was a remote island in the furthermost regions of the world, inhabited by evildoers. Given such difficulties, the Buddha in his faraway paradise showed his mercy by devising a suitable method: he manifested himself in the form that was most suitable for Japan, namely as a kami. The purpose of such a

9 Hongaku shisō (original enlightenment thought), which takes all of reality to be the manifestation of ultimate truth or to be truth itself, can also be understood in these terms. 38 SATŌ HIROO manifestation was to develop a relationship with people by appearing in the world, so as to guide them to his paradise. Therefore the most effective means to reach the Pure Land upon death was by creating a relationship with the kami. This idea became prevalent and spread throughout Japan from the 11th century onwards.

SHINKOKU IDEOLOGY IN ITS MEDIEVAL FORM

Let us now return to the traditional understanding of the notion that Japan is the land of the gods, as sketched above. The first point we must reconsider is the view that shinkoku thought opposed and sought to overcome the Buddhist notion that Japan is a “peripheral land” (hendo) caught in the final age of Buddhist Dharma (mappō). In this view, Shinto and Buddhism are considered to be two clearly distinct entities, and the shinkoku concept is positioned within a scheme where ‘native’ Shinto overcomes ‘foreign’ Buddhism. How- ever, I believe that this scheme needs to be fundamentally revised. As already mentioned above, the time during which the buddhas manifested themselves in this world as kami was mappō, and in spatial terms, they manifested themselves in the peripheral lands of hendo in order to save the miserable Japanese who lived there. The basis for this claim was an apocryphal passage in the Hikekyō (Karu7āpu78arīka-sūtra), where Śākyamuni asserts that “after I die, I will appear in the evil world as a great kami (daimyōjin) and widely save sentient beings” (Imahori 1990). In this passage, frequently referred to in the Middle Ages, it is preached that Śākyamuni will appear in the form of a kami to save all creatures in the final days of the Dharma. The understanding that Japan is an evil country was an inevitable precondition for the buddhas to appear as a kami. Now, let us return once again to the medieval view on shinkoku that we considered earlier. In the medieval period, the premise on which the idea that Japan is a divine land rested was that the buddhas manifest themselves there as kami. In addition, we have just confirmed that what made the buddhas’ manifestation as kami necessary was Japan’s characteristic as a land in the hendo, caught in the age of mappō. From these two points, we can conclude that the Buddhist discourse of mappō hendo was an integral part of shinkoku thought during the medieval period. The claim that Japan is a divine land was not possible without this emphasis on mappō hendo, an idea THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 39 that, in its turn, was never understood to be at odds with the notion that Japan is the land of the gods. Rather, it was an essential element in the development of that notion during the Middle Ages. Medieval shinkoku thought, as presented above, cannot be sufficiently understood within the common sense scheme that sees ‘Shinto’ as opposing and competing with ‘Buddhism’. Quite to the contrary, shinkoku thought was based on a Buddhist worldview, and far from opposing Buddhism, it was a product of the indigenisation of Bud- dhism in Japan and its dissemination throughout Japanese society. A second point regarding prevailing understandings of shinkoku thought concerns the idea that a wave of ‘nationalism’ triggered by the Mongol invasions gave rise to the idea that Japan is a land of the gods, which according to this view came to signify an emphasis on Japanese superiority over other countries. In regard to this theory, I would first like to point out that the logical structure of the shinkoku concept did not ‘sanctify’ Japan unconditionally. One of the pillars on which this concept rested was the identification of Japanese kami as Buddhist suijaku traces. The reason why India and China were not lands of the kami was that the Buddha manifested himself there in other forms. This logic, which incorporates Japanese Shinto within the Buddhist worldview, does not point towards a mystification of the ‘national land’, nor to an emphasis on Japan’s superiority over other countries. The medieval concept of shinkoku was not logically structured in such a way as to support a strong ethnocentrism. The honji suijaku paradigm did not simply serve to connect the buddhas of India with the kami of Japan. It explained how the buddhas, while residing in distant Pure Lands that cannot be perceived by those who dwell in this world, manifest themselves here in various forms in order to save the evildoers who live their lives in the final age of the Dharma. This paradigm did not merely connect two points within this world, but rather two worlds of different dimensions: the ideal world of universal truth, and the concrete world of one’s own land. All sacred beings in this world, irrespective of their country or region of origin, came to be regarded as traces of a buddha who dwells in a faraway paradise. Not only Japanese kami, but also sages such as Confucius and Laozi, Buddha statues and other Buddhist icons and sutras were sacred symbols whose purpose it was to save all sentient beings in the final age of the Dharma; as such, they were considered to represent the ultimate manifestation of 40 SATŌ HIROO truth. The premise for such an idea was the image of a broad universe that included both ‘this world’ and ‘other’ worlds. Thus, the shinkoku concept did not mean a regression to simple Japanocentric nativism. Rather, it emphasised Japan’s specificity on the premise that there was a universal world that reached far beyond Japan. A third issue concerns the position of the emperor (Tennō). The very existence of the Tennō used to be considered the most important factor that made Japan a divine land. In the medieval conception of shinkoku, however, the existence of the Tennō was very different from what nationalist works like Kokutai no hongi lead us to expect. In the medieval discourse on shinkoku, the Tennō was not a central element. The role of the Tennō was to ensure that Japan remained a divine land by cherishing the kami and buddhas in this world. It was a common idea in those days that evil emperors who did not seek to fulfil such a role would naturally fall from power. During the Middle Ages, the belief that emperors could go to hell was by no means rare. In classical Japan, a trend to centralise power and concentrate authority in the hands of the Tennō accelerated in the late 7th century. The adoption of the title of Tennō and the appearance of the notion that he rules as a “living kami” (aki-tsu-kami) symbolise this trend. In this way, the Tennō was elevated to become a mysterious presence isolated from ordinary people. In concert with this trend in the ‘real world’, there was a corresponding trend in the ‘world of kami’, where the kami of elite lineages were subsumed under the authority of the sun-goddess Amaterasu, the ancestral kami of the Tennō lineage. The Tennō stood at the pinnacle of the human world, and at the same time came to reign in the kami world as descendant and heir of the supreme sun-goddess. Contrary to this overwhelmingly positive image created by royal power in classical times, a new and strange view of the Tennō appeared from around the 11th century onwards, namely of the Tennō as a being who may be cursed and punished by kami and buddhas alike. In Jimon kōsōki (Record of eminent monks of the Jimon school, c. 1300?), for example, we read about the child-emperor Antoku, who died at Dan-no-ura in 1185. The writer says that the emperor’s misfortune was caused by his suppression of Miidera, the Jimon head-temple (Zoku gunsho ruijū 28-1:577). In the works of Nichiren (1222–82), this reasoning is applied to five Tennō from the time of the warrior leaders Minamoto Yoritomo (1147–99) and Hōjō THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 41

Yoshitoki (1163–1224). Nichiren applied the same standards to Tennō as he did to warriors: even a Tennō, if he fails to rule well, may lose his position as Japan’s monarch. Nichiren believed that such cases had occurred in the past and would happen again in the future, and thus rejected the notion that as a descendant of the kami, the authority of a Tennō was unassailable. He insisted that the position of Tennō could be usurped by someone whose merit was superior to that of the present incumbent (Satō 1999). The sacred barrier that separated the Tennō from other people in classical times is no longer to be found in this typically medieval understanding of the Tennō. Why did this new view of the Tennō come about? The gradual remodelling of ancient cosmology in the medieval period entailed a radical expansion of the concept of the ‘other world’ as isolated from ‘this world’. This also involved the catego- rising of humans, of kami and buddhas, and of the dead, all of whom had coexisted in one world in the past, into beings that belonged either to this world or to the other world. As a result of this trend, the Tennō was distinguished from ultimate sacred beings in the other world, who bore the highest religious authority, and the Tennō came to be categorised as a being of limited powers existing within this world. Kami in Japan, including the sun-goddess on whom the sacredness of the Tennō had been founded since classical times, were likewise regarded as beings of this world, and they were positioned as traces of buddhas. Moreover, the sun-goddess became a ‘minor god’ among the kami and buddhas of this world, and a god who fell short not only of the powers of guardian deities of Buddhism such as Bonten (Brahmā), but also of the deities of Daoism. It is obvious that such a kami had its limitations when it came to imparting the Tennō with an aura of sacredness. The reason why the Daijōsai ceremony, performed in classical times to confirm the connection between the Tennō and his ancestral kami, was abandoned in the later medieval period, is that it lost much of its meaning as a ceremonial means to mystify the Tennō. The common understanding of shinkoku thought has been that kami peculiar to Japan protect this ‘sacred land’ governed by another kami, namely the Tennō, who is thus positioned as a hero. Further, this understanding often claims or implies that the shinkoku concept developed in opposition to the Buddhist worldview that envisioned 42 SATŌ HIROO the Japanese ‘nation’ in a negative way; that it implied a strong self- consciousness on the part of the Japanese as a chosen people; and that it was intended to sanctify the Japanese archipelago and its inhabitants, distinguishing them from other races. However, when we reconsider the shinkoku concept from a medieval perspective, what we find is almost the opposite: shinkoku as an idea that relativises Japan, and that posits the existence of a universal truth in a realm that lies beyond time and national borders, hidden behind the façade of ‘this world’.

THE FORMATION OF EARLY MODERN COSMOLOGY

By reconsidering the medieval concept of shinkoku on the basis of actual historical materials, we have found something completely different from what was preached in 20th-century works of Japanese nationalism such as the 1937 Kokutai no hongi. What kind of changes did the shinkoku concept undergo from the Middle Ages to the present day, and what were the causes of those changes? The 14th–16th centuries saw the transition from the medieval period (the 12th–16th centuries) to the early modern age (the 17th–19th centuries); in the process, the intellectual world of the Japanese islands was shaken by violent tremors. The dimension of the ‘other world’, which in the medieval period used to be overwhelmingly realistic, shrank dramatically, and as a result, the dual-structured cosmology of ‘this world’ vs. ‘the other world’ was gradually dismantled. People in the Middle Ages imagined ‘paradise’ in the other world as a place that existed in a distant location. Although this worldview was established during the transition from the ancient to the medieval period, this image of a faraway paradise as a real place where one could go after death faded away from around the 14th century onwards, while the idea that the real world is the only one that actually exists began to spread. It seems that the early modern age was similar to the ancient period in regarding ‘this world’ as the only ‘real’ one. However, unlike the ancient period, when kami, buddhas, humans and the dead coexisted in the same environment, during the early modern age the spaces where human and non-human beings dwelt were clearly separated. While dead people, kami and buddhas were confined to spatially delimited religious sites, the otherworldly realm of supernatural beings was increasingly isolated THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 43 from the immediate sphere of people’s lives, and society was rapidly secularised. By the end of the 17th century this process was finally complete. Witnessing the large groups of pilgrims gathering at Zenkōji temple, the 17th-century poet Toda Mosui (1629–1706) wrote: The realm of buddhas and the realm of man are in no way different. Paradise too must be similar to this country. Even buddhas know deceit, so what they call the “Pure Land of Great Bliss” may well be just phrase they use in this world, while in fact, it is a land surprisingly full of sorrow. Therefore, those who live in this world must exert themselves in performing their tasks in this world, rather than long for that place called paradise, which nobody knows anything about. (Nashinomoto sho, 1694, in Taira and Abe 1971:290) The idea that one must concentrate one’s efforts on living a virtuous life in this world, rather than thinking about a world that nobody has ever seen, was typical of Confucianism. In early Buddhism, too, practice in this world was emphasised and speculation about the world after death or the spirits of the dead was avoided. However, such a notion would never have been accepted in medieval Japan, where all sought salvation after death and where concern with the ‘other world’ permeated the whole of society. The exclusive emphasis on ‘this world’, expressed so directly and openly by Toda Mosui and accepted without question by society, represents a worldview that matured only in the Edo period (1600–1868). It signals a radical secularisation of society and a marginalisation of otherworldly concerns. The final rise to intellectual hegemony of Confucianism, which attaches supreme value to secular values pertaining to life in this world, further strengthened this trend. The 18th century saw the dissemination of a new school, developed in reaction to this new emphasis on life in this world. This was the school of Suika Shinto, founded by the Confucian thinker Yamazaki Ansai (1618–82). Ansai challenged Buddhist cosmology by presenting a distinct vision of the other world. Scholars of Suika Shinto such as Yoshimi Yukikazu (1673–1761) sought to formulate a vision of peace after death that differed both from the Buddhist teachings on hell and paradise, and also from the standard Neo- Confucian theory that held that the qi of the human body disperses after death and denied the eternity of the spirit. Suika Shinto held that those who loyally serve the Tennō-as-kami in this life will 44 SATŌ HIROO become kami after death. They will “join the lower ranks of the 800 myriad kami” and protect the land and the Tennō for evermore.10 This entails that the spirits of the dead will remain forever in this land—a notion that differs radically from the medieval ideal that the spirits will reach a distant Pure Land in the other world. The so-called “Nativists” (kokugaku-sha), beginning with Motoori Norinaga (1730–1801), developed the ideas of Suika Shinto further. This was a matter of special concern to thinkers in the Bakumatsu years (1853–68), notably of Hirata Atsutane (1776–1843) and his disciples. Motoori Norinaga imagined that after death, humans were destined for the land of Yomi. He did not attempt to give a detailed description of this land, other than that it is an evil place full of defilement. In contrast, Hirata Atsutane developed a comprehensive account of the world of the dead, ruled, according to his reading of the Japanese classics, by the kami Ōkuninushi. In Atsutane’s thought, the “hidden world” (kakuriyo) that is the destination of the dead is not a distant place but located within the world of the living (utsushiyo, the “visible world”). It is possible to see the visible world from the hidden world but not the other way around. The dead who have entered the hidden world have crossed the border of the visible world, but otherwise, they live a life that is identical to that of the living, within the same world that the living inhabit. In the end, Atsutane argues, they become kami. Atsutane’s theory is close to that of the folklorist Yanagita Kunio (1875–1962), whose view on the ancestral spirits still counts as the standard theory on Japanese ancestor worship (Sakurai 1977), in the sense that both maintain that the dead stay close to the living and act as their ancestral deities. Yanagita’s theory on ancestral spirits does not reflect an unbroken tradition of ‘the Japanese people’; rather, it is a modern elaboration of an understanding of spirits that emerged only in the early modern period. In that period, kami and buddhas were considered to reside not in a distant world beyond the scope of people’s cognition, but in shrines and temples. Upon death people were no longer thought to embark on a journey to the ‘other world’. ‘Peace’ for the dead was no longer to be found in their departure to a

10 Maeda 2002:13. The quotation is from Kokugaku bengi (Clearing up doubts about the learning of our land). THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 45 distant paradise, but in a cemetery, where the dead were waiting for periodic visits by their descendants and listening to the chanting of sutras (Satō 2008).

THE CHANGING CONFIGURATION OF SHINKOKU IDEOLOGY

The change of cosmology that occurred during the late Middle Ages naturally caused a radical shift in the concepts that were closely connected with it, the honji suijaku paradigm among them. While during the early modern period, the notion that the Japanese kami were manifestations of buddhas continued to be widely accepted, the decline of the ‘other world’ triggered the demise of the idea that the buddhas in their Pure Lands were superior to the kami who are their suijaku traces. As a result, during the early modern age the honji suijaku paradigm changed from a vertical model, connecting buddhas above with kami below, to a horizontal one, associating the buddhas of India with the kami of Japan as two kinds of beings of the same quality, existing in two different places on the same earth. Moreover, the transformation of the medieval honji suijaku paradigm signalled the demise of a central idea behind the medieval shinkoku concept: the belief that the buddhas in the other world manifest themselves on the Japanese islands as kami. A strong belief in an ‘other world’ of universal truth that prevailed over “this world” had prevented shinkoku thought from sliding into ethnocentrism. However, when the medieval obsession with that ‘other world’ waned, the other world ceased to function as a perspective that relativised differences between various countries and races. As a result, the shinkoku concept no longer rested upon a universalising worldview, and there were no longer any conceptual impediments to preaching Japan’s superiority. It was through such processes that the shift took place from medieval shinkoku thought, characterised primarily by an emphasis on the specificity of a relativised Japan, to a new shinkoku discourse that emphasised the absolute superiority of Japan. This shift also led to the relativisation of all authorities on earth, because the transcendental authority of the other world that used to play a role in justifying such earthly authorities rapidly lost weight. This left only the Tennō with the potential to grant legitimacy to the power to control and govern. It was for this reason that the Tennō 46 SATŌ HIROO served as the spiritual centre behind the Meiji Restoration of 1868, when new national leaders sought to establish a unified state that could stand up to the West. In the spring of the first year in the Meiji era (1868), the newly established Meiji government promulgated a series of edicts ordering the separation of Shinto and Buddhism (shinbutsu bunri rei), banning Buddhist influence from Shinto shrines and beliefs (Tamamuro 1977). This drastic reform reflected the necessity to restructure the world of the kami that supported the authority of the Tennō as a living kami, and to create new myths more suitable for a modern imperial system. Already in 11th century, as we have seen, a process had started in which Japanese kami, including Amaterasu, had been incorporated into the Buddhist worldview through the mechanism of honji suijaku, positioning Japanese kami below the buddhas. In the pre-Meiji shrine system, Shinto priests held positions lower than their Buddhist counterparts, and in many shrines, Buddhist statues were the main objects of worship (shintai). Although the medieval honji suijaku paradigm went through major changes in later times, the inseparable connection between kami and buddhas persisted as a social reality. The fact that the Japanese kami were under the wing of foreign buddhas was extremely inconvenient for the Meiji leaders, who sought to draw on these same kami as the backbone of the new imperial state. In order to conform to the religious ideals of those now in power, kami and buddhas, who had been honeymooning for more than a thousand years, were separated by force. As a result of this act of ‘anti-syncretism’, a ‘pure’ world of kami, uncontaminated by foreign Buddhism, was created for the first time. With this, there was no room at all left for non-Shinto elements in the modern idea of Japan as a land of the gods. The notion of shinkoku that people are most familiar with today, in which the Tennō is protected by gods unique to Japan and positioned at the centre of the nation, emerged only in the beginning of the modern period. In contrast to the medieval period, there was no longer a conceptual framework for relativising Japan. Based on dogmatic patriotic pride, the idea that Japan is the land of the gods now justified the invasion of Japan’s neighbours. THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 47

CONCLUSION

The Japanese notion of shinkoku has been considered a typical case of nativist identity formation, in which a set of Japan-specific, ‘native’ beliefs was contrasted to ‘foreign’ Buddhism. When we actually review the details, however, we realise that the issue is far more complicated. The shinkoku concept changed over time. In the Middle Ages, Buddhist cosmology constituted the framework for this concept, and there was no tendency towards eliminating Buddhist elements from shinkoku thought. Moreover, the notion that Japan is the land of the gods emphasised the particularity of Japan, rather than its absolute superiority over other countries. Attempts to strictly distinguish Buddhism from Shinto and to reframe shinkoku as a nativist, anti-Buddhist concept were phenomena observed for the first time only in the modern period. While at times the notion of shinkoku included the concept of a ‘chosen people’, at other times it was also characterised by a strong tendency towards universalism. The contents of the shinkoku concept were moreover strongly influenced by the cosmology of each age. Both Buddhism and Shinto, which provided ideological material for such ideas, changed dramatically over time. Classical and medieval Buddhism were not the same. The kami of the middle ages and those of the early modern period were also different; so much so that one even hesitates to refer to both with the same word kami. Attempts to understand the formation of shinkoku thought as a result of tension between two parties, i.e., foreign Buddhism and native Shinto, end up obscuring the most important point. When we read shinkoku thought in its original form and in its historical, social and cultural context, without being restrained by the present-day framework of ‘Buddhism’ vs. ‘Shinto’, we are led towards a more dynamic understanding of Japan’s history of ideas. Seen from such a perspective the shinkoku concept goes beyond the Japanese archipelago, and becomes a powerful tool of comparison between discourses of identity not only in Buddhist countries, but also in other regions of the world. Also in areas dominated by the so-called ‘world religions’ of Christianity, Buddhism and Islam, there was a feudal period when a universal worldview represented the mainstream, just as in medieval Japan. In the modern age, belief in a religious truth that permeates the universe has been lost, and without the restraint of 48 SATŌ HIROO this universalism, many nations have embarked upon a nativist process of intense self-assertion, seeking to construe their own unique image. We hope that our research into shinkoku thought, in which both ethnocentrism and universalism coexist, will contribute both empirically and methodologically to the academic understanding of nativism in different regions of the world.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Fujita Yūji (1993) “Kinsei Nihon ni okeru jiminzoku chūshinteki shikō”, in Shisō 832. Furukawa Tetsushi (1976), “Shinkoku shisō no keisei to tenkai”, Nihon shisōshi kōza 3, Tokyo: Yūzankaku. Heian ibun, (1947–80), Takeuchi Rizō, (ed.), 16 volumes, Tokyo: Tōkyōdō Shuppan. Hisano Nobuyoshi (1990) ed., Tōdaiji monjo – Kyōto Daigaku Bungakubu no komonjo. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan. Imahori Taitsu (1990), Jingi shinkō no tenkai to bukkyō, Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan. Kamakura ibun (1971–95), Takeuchi Rizō, (ed.), 46 volumes, Tokyo: Tōkyōdō Shuppan. Kamata Shigeo and Tanaka Hisao (1978) eds, Kamakura kyū-bukkyō, Nihon shisō taikei 15, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Kitai Toshio (2006), Shinkoku ron no keifu, Kyoto: Hōzōkan. Kuroda Toshio (1975), Nihon chūsei no kokka to shūkyō, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. —— (1996), “The discourse on the ‘land of the kami’ (shinkoku) in medieval Japan: National consciousness and international awareness”, in Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 23:353–85. Kōchi Shōsuke (1995), “Chūsei ni okeru shinkoku no rinen”, in Nihon kodai no denshō to Higashi-Ajia, Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan. Maeda Tsutomu (2002), Kinsei Shintō to kokugaku, Tokyo: Perikansha. Muroki Yatarō (1977), Sekkyōshū, Shinchō Nihon koten shūsei, Tokyo: Shinchōsha. Naganuma Kenkai (1943), Shinkoku Nihon, Tokyo: Kyōiku Kenkyūkai. Nishio Kōichi (1970), Senjūshō, Iwanami Bunko 30-024-1, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Sakurai Tokutarō (1977), Reikon kan no keifu, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō. Satō Hiroo (1999), “Nichiren's View of Nation and Religion”, in Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 26-3/4: 307–23. —— (2000), Amaterasu no henbō, Kyoto: Hōzōkan. —— (2003), “Wrathful deities and saving deities”, in Mark Teeuwen and Fabio Rambelli, (eds), Buddhas and Kami in Japan: Honji suijaku as a combinatory paradigm, London: RoutledgeCurzon. THE EMERGENCE OF SHINKOKU IN JAPAN 49

—— (2006), Shinkoku Nihon, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō. —— (2008), Shisha no yukue, Tokyo: Iwata Shoin. Satō Shin’ichi (1971), Kobunshogaku nyūmon, Tokyo: Hōsei Daigaku Shuppankyoku. Sonehara Satoshi (1996), Tokugawa Ieyasu shinkakuka e no michi, Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan. Taira Shigemichi and Abe Akio (1972) eds, Kinsei Shintōron, zenki kokugaku, Nihon shisō taikei 39, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Takahashi Miyuki (1994), “Chūsei shinkoku shinsō no issokumen”, in Ise Shintō no seiritsu to tenkai, Tokyo: Taimeidō. Tamamuro Fumio (1977), Shinbutsu bunri, Kyōikusha Rekishi Shinsho 133, Higashi Murayama: Kyōikusha. Tamura Enchō (1959), “Shinkoku shisō no keifu”, in Nihon bukkyō shisō kenkyū, Jōdokyō hen, Kyoto: Heirakuji Shoten. Teeuwen, Mark and Fabio Rambelli (2003) eds, Buddhas and kami in Japan: Honji suijaku as a combinatory paradigm, London: Routledge Curzon. Yamada Yoshio, (1932), Jinnō Shōtōki jutsugi, Tokyo: Min’yūsha. Yūzū nenbutsu rokki, (1992), Zoku Nihon no emaki 21, Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha. Zoku gunsho ruijū (1902), 52 volumes, Tokyo: Keizai Zasshisha.

THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM

MARK TEEUWEN (OSLO UNIVERSITY)

THE LOCALISING DYNAMIC IN BUDDHISM

Buddhism is typically portrayed as a religion of transcendence that leads its practitioners away from the concerns of this world to otherworldly realms—whether it is in a placeless sphere of enlightenment, or in a distant Buddha-land. Of course, such a view marginalises the countless social functions and this-worldly practices that are at the core of Buddhism wherever it exists; but nonetheless, there is some truth to the cliché that Buddhism insists on defining itself by privileging a space that is “beyond the world” (lokottara). In its East-Asian context, at least, Buddhism tends to lead eyes away from the locality where it is practised to places of exotic otherness. When one enters a temple, the likelihood of finding depictions of local places is small; rather, one will encounter mandalas showing rarified levels of existence far beyond the realm of everyday experience, or depictions of Pure Lands located many “nayutas of ko<īs” away. Buddhist language displays the same preference for distant alterity. Transliterations of utterly foreign Sanskrit words, such as nayutas and ko<īs, litter the sutras and give the reader (or, more likely, listener) glimpses of a different world that lies beyond his/her own language. The most widely used sutra of East-Asian Buddhism, the Heart Sutra, may serve as an example: it culminates in a mantra in transcribed Sanskrit, strongly suggesting that the essence of the Buddhist truth, and the key to the Buddha’s potency, lies beyond understandable language, in a world of utter otherness. The use of the siddha3 script, not only in learned texts but also on Buddhist monuments and even amulets, further enhances this sense of distance.1

1 For a detailed and revealing discussion of the ‘otherness’ of the Heart Sutra, and of Chinese Buddhism in general, see Fuller (2000). Michael Fuller addresses the

52 MARK TEEUWEN

In Korea and Japan, Buddhism was exotic twice over: Indian, via China. Even the deities of Buddhism were foreign. Devas such as Indra and Brahmā, whom the Japanese encountered even in secular oaths as Satō Hiroo explains in his chapter in this volume, resided on or above the summit of Mt. Sumeru, in a place unimaginably distant from one’s own, both on a horizontal and a vertical plane. The gatekeepers guarding the entrances to such large temples as Hōryūji and Tōdaiji, as well as countless smaller ones, served as Buddhism’s face to the outside world; typically, they were in the style of ancient Chinese warriors, and both their outfit and their weapons looked utterly foreign. Even the protectors of many Buddhist mountains on the Japanese islands came from the continent: the deity Sannō on Mt. Hiei, on whom more will be said below, was imported from China, Shinra Myōjin of Onjōji via China from Korea (though he looks distinctly un-Korean), and Kumano Gongen of the popular pilgrimage site of Kumano was said to have flown there from India. All in all, there is so little that could be called ‘local’ to temples that it is tempting to talk of a deliberate cultivation of the exotic. I think this is not something peculiar to Japan and Korea, although the forms employed by Buddhism may have appeared even more alien in these countries than in China. In a sense, Buddhism became in effect non- local by definition when it disappeared from India in the early 13th century. In all these ways, Buddhism pointed away from Japan towards the Asian continent—even beyond China, to places no Japanese had ever seen. Of course, this is not to say that Buddhism did not also relate to the local plane; if that were the case, Buddhism would have had no relevance in its Japanese setting. In the manner of all forms of exoticism, the point of the Buddhist cult of the exotic was to redefine the local in a roundabout manner. By creating a realm beyond the confines of localised power, Buddhist exoticism gave an aura of infinite vastness or even universality to those who identified text’s “alien nature”, and points out that this alienation begins already with the title, which to Chinese of the time must have read “The puat-ńiě-puala-mi-ta Heart Sūtra”. Fuller wonders: “How are we to understand the transliteration? Are we to see the characters yet hear Sanskrit? … Is it ‘Chinese’? Even as ‘Chinese,’ does it not stand as an otherness of meaning, an emptying out of signifiers, a pointing elsewhere?” (p.118). THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 53 themselves with it. It allowed a local warlord to pose as a golden cakravartin, a local mountain to take on the guise of the cosmic Mt. Sumeru, a local deity to embody an aspect of the World Buddha, and a local rite to aspire to the universal aim of bringing salvation to all sentient beings. In all these ways, Buddhism has allowed local entities to rise above the cauldron of local power struggles by identifying them with a higher, ideally absolute dimension. By introducing such a dimension, Buddhism has functioned both as a way to give universal significance to the local, and, vice versa, as a way to local- ise the universal.

NATIVISM IN JAPANESE STUDIES

My understanding of Buddhist nativism is as a term that denotes the first of these processes: that of loading the local with a higher, supra- local significance. Let me be the first to admit that this usage is not necessarily in tune with established definitions of nativism as an academic term. My reasons for employing it derive from the term’s history within the field of Japanese studies. Overview articles such as Clemhout (1964), La Barre (1971) and Lanternari (1974) show that the concept of nativism was popular within anthropology at least until the late 1970s. The term was fostered by and embedded in acculturation theory. In that context, nativism has referred to movements that seek to preserve, restore or reconstruct selected aspects of native culture in reaction to a perceived external threat. Since then, the word ‘native’ itself has come under fire, and the term has largely fallen out of favour. As Geertz has famously pointed out, “we are all natives now”,2 and within anthropology, the search for radical otherness among distant tribes has made place for very different types of projects. To make matters even worse, the word ‘native’ acquired a negative connotation as a term that signals condescension towards indigenous groups. Not only did ‘nativism’ appear increasingly meaningless as a phrase; it also sounded patronising, or even vaguely racist.

2 At least, a range of publications quote Geertz as saying this; I have yet to find the exact source. See Geertz 1983:150f. 54 MARK TEEUWEN

In Japanese studies, however, the term nativism was taken up at roughly the same time that anthropology was moving away from it (the late 1970s). Here, this word was used to refer to what is in Japanese known as kokugaku or wagaku, often translated more literally as “national studies” or “Japanese learning”. Kokugaku was a movement of amateur poets, historians and antiquarians who had a special interest in things Japanese. It built on the success of a similar movement that offered commoners a platform for pursuing Chinese studies (kangaku). Kangaku had grown prosperous in the early 18th century in response to a rising demand for private education. Increasing wealth and leisure had created a market for kangaku teachers catering to the general public in Japan’s rapidly growing towns and cities; as the teaching business expanded, schools specialising in ‘Japanese matters’ emerged as a new niche in the second half of the 18th century. To differentiate these schools from kangaku, the terms kokugaku and wagaku spread in the same period. An early example of the term nativism in Japanese studies is the 1978 dissertation of Peter Nosco, entitled Remembering paradise: Nostalgic themes in Japanese nativism (published as a book in 1990 with a very similar title). Here “Japanese nativism” translates kokugaku. Nosco uses the word to convey a sense of Japanese ‘tribalism’: kokugaku’s urge to give supreme value to things Japanese, rather than to China as the undisputed centre of civilisation in East Asia, or indeed the world.3 Yet the concept of nativism is less central to Nosco’s analysis of kokugaku than is the term nostalgia, understood as a longing for an idealised past. While translating kokugaku as nativism, Nosco downplays the “distasteful xenophobia and narcissism” of later forms of kokugaku, and rather focuses on the movement’s interest in reconstructing a “native ancient Way” by means of philological analyses of texts from the Japanese tradition (Nosco 1990:8f). Nosco, then, stages kokugaku nativism as the product of a scholarly schism between specialists of Chinese and Japanese studies, rather than as a nativist response to a threat from the outside world.

3 Peter Nosco, personal communication. THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 55

Nosco’s translation of kokugaku as nativism was inspired by Harry Harootunian,4 who used the same term in a 1978 essay on kokugaku, and, later, in the title of his hugely influential Things Seen and Unseen: Discourse and Ideology in Tokugawa Nativism (Harootunian 1978, 1988). Again, however, the word is neither defined nor employed as an analytical instrument when it comes to explaining the nature of kokugaku, or the reasons for its explosive growth into a full-fledged “movement” in the 19th century. Harootunian does not depict kokugaku as a product of intellectual competition and specialisation, nor does he explain its rise as a reaction to a perceived foreign threat. Instead, Harootunian views the kokugaku movement as a communitarian response to the restrictive class order of Tokugawa society. He argues that kokugaku gave supreme importance to an ancient Japanese “folk matrix” that preceded the rigid class hierarchy of that time, and thus undermined the premises on which that hierarchy was built. This reading has since been questioned by many; but also those who resist Harootunian’s idea of kokugaku as an egalitarian or even revolutionary social movement generally agree that kokugaku’s opposition to foreign teachings primarily reflected internal tensions within Japanese society, rather than external ones between Japan and foreign nations or cultures. If that is the case, referring to kokugaku as nativism is perhaps more confusing than it is enlightening. Neither Nosco nor Harootunian explain the reasons behind their innovative use of the word nativism as a translation of kokugaku, nor do they dwell on the implications of this choice of terminology. Nevertheless, the term has since become standard as the most common rendering of kokugaku in English. In my view, this has had an unfortunate effect on our understanding of Japanese ‘nativism’ as it may be conceived more broadly.5 The identification of kokugaku with nativism is not only ill-defined; it also has the side-effect of highlighting aspects of kokugaku that few scholars regard as central

4 Again, I learned this through personal communication from Peter Nosco. Reviews of the book in which Harootunian (1978) appeared, attest to the fact that his usage of the term ‘nativists’ raised many eyebrows at the time (see, e.g., Charles Dunn’s review in Bulletin of SOAS 43-2:404f, 1980). 5 For a similar argument, see Breen (2000) and Teeuwen (2006b). 56 MARK TEEUWEN to that movement. Moreover, it closes our minds to earlier forms of nativism that preceded the emergence of kokugaku. What does nativism mean when it is used as a translation of kokugaku? In Japanological usage, nativism has little to do with acculturation theory, crisis cults, or even with responses to colonisation. Rather, the term’s application to Japan appears to build on a simple metaphor, comparing kokugaku with what is commonly known as nativism in the field of American history. In the United States, the word nativism has been used since the mid-19th century to refer to movements and ideas that opposed non-Anglo-Saxon immigration, as expressed, for example, in the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, the anti-Catholic Know-Nothing movement of the 1850s, and the racist anti-immigration laws of the 1920s. There is a striking difference between the ‘anthropological’ and the ‘American history’ usages of nativism. In the first case, nativism is typically construed as a reaction by a ‘native’ population against the overwhelming pressure of encroaching Western civilisation, often in a colonial context. In this understanding of nativism, the ‘natives’ represent a weak minority that seeks to resist domination by a more powerful Other, by restoring, reforming or inventing traditional practices in order to strengthen its cultural and political identity. The Ghost Dance movement that swept across the American West in the 1890s is often mentioned as an example of such a movement. In the second case, the ‘natives’ implied in the term nativism are themselves the majority. In 19th-century American nativism, the ‘natives’ were not native Americans in the modern sense of the word: they were Anglo-Saxon protestants native to the United States of America. ‘Natives’ of this kind were not threatened by a colonial power with irresistible military might; rather, they feared a creeping dilution of their ‘pure’ culture by ‘alien’ immigrants, and the nativism they created was a narrow nationalism that sought to marginalise or even dispose of ‘non-native’ minorities—including, of course, native Americans. Does either of these two conceptions of nativism fit the case of kokugaku in Japan? Kokugaku writings are awash with anti-foreign sentiments, stressing the superiority of Japan over China and the rest of the world and lamenting the corrupting influence of Chinese and Indian teachings on a pure ‘Japanese spirit’ rooted in the Age of the Gods. Yet, as we have already seen, both Nosco and Harootunian THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 57 resist the idea that kokugaku emerged as a nativist response to an external threat. When this threat did materialise, in the early to mid 19th century, the central ideas of kokugaku were already in place. It was only at that later stage that kokugaku took on a guise that is easily comparable to nativism in the ‘American history’ sense of the word. Kokugaku, then, did not originate as a response to overwhelming pressure from a foreign power or civilisation, in the manner of ‘classical’ nativism, nor did it arise against the background of massive immigration, as in the American case. If kokugaku, even in its earlier guises, was nativist, it was so in a less dramatic meaning of the word. Kokugaku practitioners saw some special value in the study of things Japanese, either in addition to Chinese, Buddhist or Western studies, or in exclusivist contrast to those foreign fields of learning. Some kokugaku writers merely argued that Japanese studies were a useful complement to Chinese studies; others attacked both Chinese studies and Buddhism as detrimental to the Japanese spirit that only kokugaku could reveal. Whatever their position, kokugaku participants turned their attention from ‘universal’ knowledge (that is, Chinese and Buddhist learning) to ‘local’ knowledge, and attempted to lift that local knowledge to a universal level. In that sense, kokugaku was nativist in the same general meaning that I proposed for Buddhist nativism above. The aim of this essay is to challenge the view that Japanese nativism began with kokugaku, and to point at central aspects of continuity between kokugaku nativism and earlier ‘Buddhist nativism’ as it manifested itself in medieval Japan. The automatic equation of kokugaku with nativism in Japanese studies impedes our understanding of the latter if it leads us to assume that kokugaku’s nativist discourse was purely a product of the 18th and 19th centuries. Because kokugaku has gained a monopoly on the term in modern scholarship, few attempts have been made to explore the roots of ‘nativism’ beyond kokugaku. Even more problematic is the fact that Japan’s nativist discourse is generally seen as intrinsically anti- Buddhist. My argument in this essay is that kokugaku is best understood as a new shoot on an ancient tree, a tree that was rooted in medieval Buddhism. To illustrate this continuity, I focus on two features that kokugaku and (some varieties of) medieval Buddhism have in common. The 58 MARK TEEUWEN first is the notion that Japan is the ‘land of origin’ where all things had their beginning; the second is the enduring interest of nativists, whether Buddhist or kokugaku, for a remarkably constant shortlist of topics: Japanese poetry, the imperial lineage, classical court myth, and the Japanese kami deities. An eloquent example of the kokugaku notion of Japan as the ‘land of origin’ can be found in the work of Motoori Norinaga (1730– 1801), the author and teacher who almost single-handedly transformed kokugaku from a rather obscure school into a dominant feature of Japan’s intellectual landscape. In a late work on the kami deities of the imperial Ise shrines, the sun-goddess Amaterasu and the food deity Toyouke, Norinaga argues that while many regard these deities as local figures, their true powers are universal: Amaterasu is not only the sun god of our empire, but the all-embracing sun god that illuminates China, India, and all other lands as well.… Can the four seas and the myriad lands of the world continue to exist for even one day without the clear beneficence of this great god? (…) Therefore the god of the Inner Shrine of Ise is a god whom not only the people of our empire, but also the people of China, India, and other lands, all the people in the countless lands of the world, in all the lands upon which the sun confers her beneficence—she is a god whom all kings and vassals and common people alike must revere and worship for her blessings and beneficence. (…) In the world there are countless treasures, but the highest, the ultimate treasure, without which we cannot do even for a day, is food…. In the beginning of the world this food that is so august arose from the spirit of Toyouke…. Since the fact that humans maintain life with the help of food holds not only for the people of our empire but is the same for all people in the myriad lands, there are no people in these lands who do not share in the blessings of this great god. The empire is the land of origin, the ancestral land of the myriad lands, and all the countless things that have appeared and become known all have their origin in our empire. (Ise nikū sakitake no ben, 1798; translation from Teeuwen 1999:41f) In passages like this one (which is far from unique in Norinaga’s oeuvre), Norinaga defined the universal from the local rather than the other way around. That bold strategy collided head-on with the intellectual discourse of his age, which typically sought to explain the local as a manifestation of universal truths that were based elsewhere—either in the Buddhist sutras, or in the teachings of the ancient Chinese sages. Below, I will argue that a very similar THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 59 reversal of the hierarchy between the local and the universal occurred in medieval times, but in a Buddhist setting. The second point I want to make is that nativism, both in medieval Buddhism and in early-modern kokugaku, focused on a list of themes that was remarkably stable. Nativist efforts to elevate ‘Japan’ to the status of a primary rather than a secondary place, selected a shortlist of elements as Japan’s universal essence. Once this list was established in the 13th century, it did not change. In the case of kokugaku there was a clear fault line between studies of waka poetry, founded on the imperial poetry collections of classical times, and studies of the ‘Japanese Way’, based on historical chronicles and focusing on the imperial lineage and its roots in the Age of the Gods. Most kokugaku participants began their studies with the aim of mastering waka; only a limited number developed an interest in pursuing some aspect of the ‘Japanese Way’, although most acquired a nativist outlook through their exposure to kokugaku literature. In the generation after Norinaga, the leading kokugaku figure Hirata Atsutane identified this as a problem, and he argued that too many ‘nativists’ ended up as mere ‘poets’ who neglected the ancient Way (McNally 2005:81–3). Connecting these two fields of study to each other was one of the more thankless tasks faced by kokugaku teachers. My argument in this essay will be that the combination of poetry with nativist history was not a natural outcome of kokugaku thought, but rather part of kokugaku’s nativist inheritance, with roots, once again, in medieval Buddhism.

BUDDHIST NATIVISM AS A MATRIX FOR KOKUGAKU

Before introducing the Buddhist discourse that was the distant ancestor of kokugaku nativism, it will be useful to say a few words about its relationship with the nativist notion of shinkoku (“land of gods” or “divine land”) in medieval Japan, as sketched by Satō Hiroo in his essay in this book. Satō points out that modern readings of medieval shinkoku thought, which construe this concept as an early expression of Shinto proto-nationalism, are at fault for ignoring the Buddhist nature of medieval cosmology. This cosmology placed Japan in the periphery of a world system centring on Mt. Sumeru, and it understood Japan to be a land of gods for negative rather than positive reasons. Japan was conceived as a territory located far from 60 MARK TEEUWEN the centre of the world, and moreover caught in an age in which the Dharma had declined beyond repair (mappō); this is why the buddhas had no other choice but to manifest themselves in Japan in the form of kami gods. Satō also argues that while the emperor occupied a central position in modern, nationalist shinkoku thought as the living representative of the gods and therefore as the supreme focus of the nation, his role in the medieval conception of shinkoku was much more marginal. Here the emperor was depicted as a fallible human being whose task it was “to ensure that Japan remained a divine land by cherishing the kami and buddhas in this world”, and who might even fall into hell if he failed to do so. As a being of ‘this world’, the emperor occupied a humble position in contrast to the almighty ‘other world’ of the buddhas. Satō concludes that in its medieval form, shinkoku was not a term of “simple Japanocentric nativism”; rather, it “emphasised Japan’s specificity based on the premise that there was a universal world that reached far beyond Japan”. I agree with this general assessment, but use the term nativism in a slightly different meaning. There was indeed a clear turn in Japanese nativism that separates its medieval forms from later, early modern ones. The former stressed the presence of universal powers within ‘things Japanese’, and maintained that the local, however flawed, can serve as a channel towards the universal. In contrast, the latter ascribed universal status to Japan as the place where the gods were born, and, according to some, as the land where heaven and earth were once connected. What both forms of shinkoku thought have in common is that they turn their attention to Japan and Japan’s deities and privilege them as the best way towards the goal of ‘enlightenment’—or, in kokugaku terms, recovery of the original Japanese spirit. In that sense, I propose that both can be termed forms of nativism. Moreover, the shinkoku thought sketched by Satō in his essay was only one variety of what I would call Buddhist nativism. Satō’s account is based on sources that may be described as ‘mainstream Mahāyāna’; beyond this mainstream, there was also a more radical ‘Tantric’ current that is not addressed in his essay.6 I will argue here

6 For another example of nativism within such a context (in this case, medieval Tendai), see Sueki (2006f). ‘Tantric’ is a contested category, both as a description of Japanese “esoteric teachings” (mikkyō) and more generally. In Japan, such teachings

THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 61 that this body of ‘Tantric’ sources foreshadowed and, indeed, was a direct ancestor of later kokugaku nativism. These sources differ from those employed by Satō in a number of important ways. They do not invoke mappō, nor do they situate Japan in the periphery of the world; they mystify the emperor and place him at the centre of the cosmos; and they lend absolute status to Japanese matters that in Satō’s sources are regarded as secondary manifestations of that larger, non-local realm of ‘the other world’.

JAPAN AS MAHĀVAIROCANA’S LAND OF ORIGIN

One of the more famous texts in which this medieval Buddhist discourse of nativism was developed is Keiran shūyōshū, “Collected leaves from hazy valleys”, compiled between 1311 and 1348 on Mt. Hiei, the headquarters of Tendai Buddhism just outside Kyoto.7 Its author, Kōshū, belonged to a group of monks called kike, “record- keepers”, who specialised in producing, gathering and preserving Tendai knowledge. Keiran shūyōshū, as the main legacy of this group, is an enormous collection of documents and discussions on various topics to do with Tendai and Mt. Hiei. This encyclopaedic work consists of four sections: exoteric teachings, esoteric teachings, vinaya precepts, and finally “documents”. That last section is of special interest because it deals with Mt. Hiei as a locality and its relation to the exoteric and esoteric teachings of Tendai. Here we find information about the temples on the mountain, the buddhas and other deities who dwell there, the kami who protect the mountain (collectively referred to as Sannō, the “Mountain King”), the rituals performed there, the sacred sites on the mountain and the rules that apply to its monks. When we zoom in on the section on the Sannō Mountain King in Keiran shūyōshū, we soon notice that this deity (or cluster of deities) has multiple identities, some local and some universal. The first entry in this section explains that Sannō is identical to Amaterasu, the sun deity who resides in the imperial shrines of Ise. In Ise, we read, Sannō/Amaterasu is a manifestation of Mahāvairocana; on Mt. Hiei, were particularly important within Shingon and Tendai lineages. 7 For an introduction to this text, see Grapard (1998). 62 MARK TEEUWEN the same deity is a manifestation of Śākyamuni (Shintō taikei vol. Tendai Shintō ge:405). This combined deity is supreme among all the deities of Japan: “Because our land is a land of the gods (shinkoku), many deities manifest themselves here; but only the Great Avatāra of Sannō is the manifestation of Śākyamuni, the Teacher of our time”, and therefore, “all the deities of Japan are skilful means (upāya) whose task it is to prepare the ground for Sannō’s manifestation” (ibid.:406). Sannō has seven aspects, ranging from his local, delimited role as the deity installed on Mt. Hiei by the mountain’s founder as protector of the Tendai school, to increasingly non- local, universal forms, culminating in his seventh-level identity as “the original source of all buddhas”. Sannō, then, is both the concrete guardian deity of a specific locality, and an abstract universal principle at the same time. In other words, Sannō serves to connect the universal world of the buddhas with the local mountain on which the temple complexes of Tendai are situated. Keiran shūyōshū depicts Sannō not merely as a local deity, but as the inner essence of all kami in Japan. The text characterises the Japanese deities (shinmei) as manifestations of the “uncreated, original state” (musa honnu) and the “Dharma-body of self-nature” (jishō hosshin)—that is, of the state of innate, physical enlightenment that is inherent in all sentient beings and that precedes all Buddhist practice. Therefore, Sannō, as the essence and origin of all deities, is also the essence and origin of all buddhas. With their Dharma methods, the buddhas seek to activate the innate enlightenment that both sentient and non-sentient beings are endowed with; the deities, however, are that enlightenment. Therefore, the deities are the “origin”, while the buddhas are secondary. The physical stuff of enlightenment that manifests itself in condensed form as kami deities is, in personified form, called Mahāvairocana, the World Buddha; the historical Buddha Śākyamuni is Mahāvairocana’s most recent manifestation. As the essence of the Japanese deities, Sannō is Mahā- vairocana, and Japan is Mahāvairocana’s “land of origin”. India is not the land of origin of Buddhism but a secondary place, the location where Sannō/Mahāvairocana manifested himself as Śākyamuni. In Japanese, “Mahāvairocana’s land of origin” is Dainihonkoku (Daini- from Dainichi, “Mahāvairocana”; hon, “origin”; koku “land”); this, we are told, is why Japan is called the great (dai) land (koku) of Nihon (ibid.:410). THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 63

This interpretation of Japan, as the land of origin, differs markedly from the shinkoku discourse described by Satō Hiroo in his chapter in this volume. Mappō does not play a role here; nor is Japan reduced to a remote place in the periphery of the Buddhist world. Keiran shūyōshū does not place Japan in the periphery but in the centre: it explains that the “central axis of the southern continent of Jambudvīpa” is located under the floor of Amaterasu’s sanctuary in Ise (ibid.:418). In this text Japan emerges as the place where the realm of the buddhas manifests itself directly, in physical form, embodied by the deities of the land. Japan is the land of the eternal Dharma; India is merely the place where the present Buddha happened to appear. As one would expect of such a land, Japan has a special geography that corresponds to the three mandalas of the Tendai school (ibid.:411). Its imperial capital contains nine sections, just like the Diamond (vajradhātu) Mandala; the country has five central provinces, just like the Womb (garbhadhātu) Mandala; and the islands as a whole consist of seven circuits, representing the Mandala of Wondrous Accomplishment (susiddhi). Together, these three mandalas form the totality of Mahāvairocana’s Dharma. Japan, then, is the land of Mahāvairocana in the World Buddha’s three constitutive aspects. This was further confirmed by the Japanese monk and bodhisattva Gyōki (668–749), a famous holy man who wandered around Japan opening up new fields and establishing its boundaries. In the course of his travels, Gyōki discovered that Japan had the shape of a one-pronged vajra, which is the very symbol and embodiment of Mahāvairocana (ibid.:419).8 This discourse on Japan as the land of origin of the Dharma was not exclusive to Keiran shūyōshū, or even to Tendai. The first seeds of the notion that Japan is “Mahāvairocana’s land of origin” can be traced back to the late 11th century; but it was only in the 13th and 14th centuries that this phrase became part of an expansive discourse on the nature of Japan as a sacred territory (Itō Satoshi 2001). Here I will limit myself to one other text, a work with the obscure title Bikisho (1324), perhaps meaning “Book of returning to the origin”.

8 On this aspect of the Keiran shūyōshū, and its cartographic implications, see Dolce (2007). 64 MARK TEEUWEN

Bikisho is more readily associated with Shingon than Tendai; at least, it contains references to Shingon lineages and shows special reverence for the Shingon patriarch Kūkai. The text includes information obtained at Ise from Watarai Tsuneyoshi (1263–1339), a leading priest from the Outer Shrine of Ise and author of a number of works about the Ise shrines, and Dōjun, a prominent monk with imperial connections based at the great Shingon temple complex of Daigoji and creator of new esoteric transmissions and rituals that were to win great fame in subsequent decades (Teeuwen 2006a). Bikisho presents Buddhist knowledge about the deity of the Ise shrines, Amaterasu, in the form of an organised list of topics.9 The text orders its exegesis of this deity under two headings: inside and outside of the Dharma. The first is based on the esoteric and exoteric teachings of Śākyamuni, while the latter draws on the Nihongi (or Nihon shoki), the imperial Chronicles of Japan compiled at the court in 720. “Inside the Dharma”, Amaterasu is explained through five identifications: (1) as Mahāvairocana of the Diamond and Womb Realms; (2) as the “luminous kings” Acalanātha and Rāgarāja; (3) as the Deva King of the Sahā world, Mahābrahmā; (4) as the king of the world of the dead, Yama; and (5) as a transformation of Shingon’s founding patriarch in Japan, Kūkai. As topics “outside the Dharma”, Bikisho discusses issues to do with Ise in particular (its origins, the esoteric ritual for invoking its deities, the esoteric meanings of architectural details of the shrine buildings, and other matters), and with Japan more generally. On the topic of Japan and its name, the text comments: Why is our land called Dainihonkoku, Mahāvairocana’s land of origin? This phrase applies to Amaterasu and to Ōmine. The reason is that Amaterasu dwells in this country as the head of the Buddha-Dharma. This is not a private opinion. This land has the shape of a one-pronged vajra. The one-pronged vajra signifies the seed of all things. Among seeds, the seed of wisdom is greatest of all. Therefore, both the deities and the sentient beings of this land have wisdom as their basis; this is why this land is called Mahāvairocana’s land of origin. As

9 As in most medieval texts, Amaterasu is referred to as “Tenshō Daijin” in Bikisho. I will stick to Amaterasu here (which is another reading for the characters Tenshō) for reasons of convenience. THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 65

Mahāvairocana’s land of origin, it is greatly superior to all other countries, not because it is the place where the sun rises, as everybody seems to believe, but because it is the land of the origin of the sun— and “sun” is another word for wisdom. You must know that this land is the origin of wisdom, or, in other words, of the deep wisdom of Amaterasu. (Shintō taikei, Vol. Shingon Shintō ge, p.510) “Wisdom” here refers to the physical enlightenment of which all existence partakes; again, it is identified with Mahāvairocana in its Japanese form, the Japanese deity Amaterasu. Both Ise, where the shrine of Amaterasu is located, and Ōmine, a prominent Shingon centre of mountain practice located some 100 kilometres east of Ise, are designated as focal points of Japan as the land of wisdom; the latter, we are told, because its mountain is the “axis” (jiku) of the land, the place where the two mandalas of the Womb and Diamond Realms manifest themselves in stone, forming the “land of the True Word (Shingon) in which the Dharma is naturally manifest” (tennen hōni no shingon no kuni). In a later passage, Bikisho returns to the subject of the one- pronged vajra to make a new point: The shape of Japan is a one-pronged vajra, that of China a three- pronged vajra, and that of India a five-pronged vajra. The three- pronged vajra represents the Womb Realm, which stands for the Lotus section or [Mahāvairocana’s] compassion. The five-pronged vajra represents the Diamond Realm, which stands for the Buddha section or [Mahāvairocana’s] wisdom. The one-pronged vajra represents the seed, the non-dual essence in which the Womb Realm and the Diamond Realm are one. Therefore, Japan is the seed that spreads the secret Dharma to China and India. Because the seed means returning to the origin, all secrets naturally return to Japan. (Shintō taikei, Vol. Shingon Shintō ge, p.518) This passage echoes the views we earlier encountered in Keiran shūyōshū by visualising Japan as a one-pronged vajra and a mandala. New, however, is Bikisho’s explicit contrasting of Japan with China and India, which together form the “three lands” of Buddhist geography. The view that the world consists of three lands, and that Japan is one of them, was making an increasing impact on the intellectual landscape of Japan in Bikisho’s age. Like the idea that Japan is Mahāvairocana’s land of origin, this notion first arose in the 11th century and experienced a leap in popularity in the early 14th century. The new currency of this worldview is symbolised by the 66 MARK TEEUWEN work Sangoku buppō denzū engi (History of the dissemination of the Buddha-Dharma in the three lands), completed by the scholar monk Gyōnen of Tōdaiji in 1311 and presented to the throne soon afterwards. This history documents the development of Buddhism in Japan while tracing its roots in China and India. There is a striking gap between the chronological approach of the orthodox Gyōnen and the much more radical views we encounter in Bikisho: where Gyōnen follows the Dharma from India to Japan, Bikisho argues that the teachings of the Buddha spread not from the West but from the East, and have their ultimate source in Mahāvairocana’s land of origin, the sacred territory of Japan.

JAPAN IN THE LORE OF MEDIEVAL BUDDHIST LINEAGES OF ‘SHINTŌ’

The idea that Japan is the ‘land of origin’ was not merely a theoretical construct. In the same 14th century, Buddhist lineages emerged which specialised in rituals that drew on the extraordinary powers believed to be inherent in ‘Japan’. These lineages, known as shintō-ryū or “lineages dedicated to shintō, the deities of Japan”, created and transmitted secret knowledge about a range of topics. Collections of initiation documents produced within these lineages are extremely useful as a source on medieval Buddhist nativism, because they reveal the concrete contents of ‘Japan’ as an intellectual construct at this early stage. Few such collections have been published in their entirety; a precious exception is a cache of initiation documents from the imperial temple of Ninnaji in Kyoto (Abe 2000). The archives of this temple include a chest labelled “deities” (kami-bako; chest nr. 89), containing a set of 32 “important matters” (daiji) and “oral transmissions” (kuden) of the so-called Goryū lineage. These documents were written on the occasion of the full initiation into shintō matters of the monk Gyōyo by his master Gyōkei in 1513 (Itō 2000). It is not certain whether this set is complete; we know that few decades later, the number of “important matters” transmitted in this lineage had more than doubled. By the 1540s, the Goryū transmission was standardised as a set of 80 documents, divided into ten levels of initiation. Both in Ninnaji’s set of 32 and the later set of 80 initiation documents, the themes addressed cluster around the same three main topics: the Ise shrines and their main deity, THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 67

Amaterasu; the Nihongi (or Nihon shoki); and the imperial regalia that the Japanese emperor received from Amaterasu. In the initiation rituals (kanjō, which translates Skt. abhi@eka) that followed the transmission of these “important matters”, initiands received the “precepts for attaining the position of King of Mahāvairocana’s land of origin”, were given sets of imperial regalia, and visualised themselves as being one with Amaterasu (Matsuo 2000). Within these lineages, the route to the powers of enlightenment went through exclusively Japanese channels.

WAKA POETRY

This nativist turn towards the deities of Japan was not limited to monastic environments. One other prominent field on which it had a decisive impact was poetics. Knowledge about poetry was handed down within court lineages such as the Nijō, Mikohidari, Kyōgyoku, and Reizei houses. From the mid-13th century onwards, some of these lineages adopted both hermeneutical techniques and ritual procedures from esoteric Buddhism, seeking to uncover hidden Buddhist meanings in Japanese poems and literary tales (Klein 2002). In the course of the 14th century, elaborate kanjō initiation ceremonies became a favoured medium of poetic transmissions at the court. Secret transmissions on shintō matters and on waka poetry developed not only simultaneously, but also in close dialogue. Susan Klein (2003) suggests that the so-called record-keepers, whose knowledge is stored in Keiran shūyōshū, were directly inspired by developments in waka poetics when they employed techniques such as metaphor, association, and punning to produce new interpretations of, for example, the deity Sannō. After all, many of these record- keepers were from court families and therefore well versed in waka composition. Their brand of shintō esotericism, Klein argues, was then reapplied to waka poetics (Klein 2003:202). By applying esoteric shintō lore to the subject of waka, competing lineages of poetics sought to raise the status of waka and give their art a new, more profound meaning. This was achieved by drawing on the established fact, broadcast already in the preface to the most famous imperial poetry collection of all, Kokin wakashū (Collection of waka old and new, 905), that waka were first created by the kami 68 MARK TEEUWEN in the Age of the Gods. Now that it had been made clear that those kami gods are none other than the essence of Mahāvairocana’s enlightenment, this opened up new possibilities for those who wished to infuse waka poetry with greater significance. Waka were now envisaged as vehicles for the cosmic powers of the kami, much in the way of Buddhist mantras or dhāra7ī (Klein 2003:184–186). Waka, then, formed another aspect of the “Japan” that served as a focus of medieval nativism. The esoteric Buddhism that inspired waka lore was the nativist Buddhism of the shintō-ryū; and vice versa, waka transmissions flowed back into the “important matters” of those shintō-ryū. The extent to which these two fields merged becomes clear from the very first initiation document in the Ninnaji collection mentioned above. The transmission of Goryū secrets transmitted to Gyōyo in 1513 at Ninnaji began with the following explanation of the hidden meaning of Nihon or “Japan”: The secret of Nihon—oral transmission of Akone Bay When the Minister of the Left, Fujiwara no Nakahira, travelled to Akone Bay in Ise province on the third day of the seventh month of the year Engi 6 (906), a child of eleven or twelve years of age appeared in front of him. The child turned towards him and asked: “Is it true that something called the Nihongi has recently appeared in the capital?” Nakahira confirmed that this was so. The child said: “Do you know about Nihon?” Nakahira replied that he did not. The child said: “This matter has been handed down since the Age of the Gods as the Kings of our land. How foolish that the people of Wakoku (Japan) do not know about this, in spite of the fact that they are fostered within the confines of Nihon. Ni- (the sun) is Yang and hon (the origin) is Yin. The body that is primordial, that is never born and never dies, the quiescent presence—that is Ni-. The countless dharmas, the body that is eternal in past, present and future, the five colours blue, yellow, red, white and black, the forms of the countless things in heaven and earth—that is hon. Thus, your body itself is Nihon, and my own body is also Nihon. There is not a single mote of dust that is not included in the two syllables Ni- and hon. The mountains and rivers, the great earth, the grasses and trees, humans and beasts—they are all included in the two syllables Ni- and hon.” THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 69

Nakahira folded his hands and said: “Now I understand the meaning of the syllables Ni- and hon. But who are you?” The child answered: “Amaterasu”, and disappeared. Have faith. Profound secret—profound secret. The gist of this tale is that in the year 906, Amaterasu appeared to the poet Fujiwara no Nakahira (875–945) in the guise of a child (dōji, Skt. kumāra) in order to reveal the profound meaning of the name Nihon, which features in the title of the Nihongi (or Nihon shoki) and also in the name of the particular initiation to which this oral transmission belongs, namely the Nihongi kanjō. Ni-, we learn, represents the “quiescent essence” from which all arises; this is a reference to the Womb Mandala. Hon, on the other hand, refers to the “countless things” through which this essence manifests itself; this refers to the Diamond Mandala. Taken together, Ni- and hon represent the union of these twin mandalas, which together form the totality of the World Buddha Mahāvairocana. Thus we learn that Japan is Mahāvairocana, that Amaterasu is Mahāvairocana, and that the body of the initiand, too, is Mahāvairocana. An obvious question that arises from this tale is why Amaterasu chose to reveal this truth to Nakahira. This choice of hero is significant, because it reflects the conflation of shintō with waka transmissions. As Itō Satoshi (2000:132f) has shown, this initiation into the meaning of Nihon drew heavily on an older version that features another set of characters. In that version, it is not Amaterasu who appears to Nakahira, but the deity Sumiyoshi who appears to Ariwara no Narihira (825–80). Narihira was renowned as the (legendary) author of a collection of poems and tales known as Ise monogatari (Tales of Ise, 10th century). While Narihira was in Ise, he was said to have seduced the saiō, the unmarried daughter of the emperor who served the imperial deities of Ise as a kind of vestal virgin—a shocking breach of ritual purity. Nakahira, who has taken Narihira’s place here, was known for his love affair with another famous poet, known as Lady Ise (877?–940?). Both, then, were romantic heroes famous for their love poems, and both had some kind of erotic connection with “Ise”. In esoteric waka lore, Narihira’s (or Nakahira’s) celebration of love and sex was reinterpreted in a Tantric manner—as the shortest route to the realisation of bodily enlightenment. 70 MARK TEEUWEN

Our short text, now, has Amaterasu disclosing the truth about Nihon. In the older version, Sumiyoshi disclosed the truth about the great poetry collection Kokin wakashū to Narihira. What is revealed about Ni- and hon in our document was copied from that older version, which offered an identical exegesis of the terms Ko- and kin (“past” and “present”). At the same time, our Ninnaji initiation has exchanged Sumiyoshi for Amaterasu, and Narihira for the lover of Lady Ise, Nakahira. The resulting initiation reveals that Nihon (like Kokin) is none other than the supreme union of Mahāvairocana’s twin aspects, as made manifest in the Womb and Diamond Mandalas. These two aspects can be described as compassion and wisdom, as non-duality and multiplicity, or as female and male, Yin and Yang. Ultimate realisation is released by the union of these pairs. Amaterasu reveals that Nihon ‘is’ this ultimate union, as it expresses itself in sentient and even non-sentient beings—in fact, in the land itself. Nihon, or Japan, then, emerges here as the site of ultimate enlightenment. The greatest deity of the land has revealed that Nihon represents (‘is’) the union of the Womb and the Diamond. Therefore, not only the land but also our own bodies are Nihon, and as such, they are filled with the ultimate salvific ‘presence’. Nihon takes on a very wide, even universal meaning: every mote of dust is Nihon. Yet at the same time, Nihon also manages to retain its concrete limitations. After all, it is only the “people of Japan” who have been fostered within its boundaries. It is worth noting that this sanctification of the realm and all it contains draws on all aspects of the medieval Buddhist discourse on Japan. We encounter Ise, waka poetry, Amaterasu, and the Nihongi. Of central importance is the emperor: the transmission not only claims that the teaching of Nihon is handed down within the imperial lineage, but also that it has existed in Japan since the Age of the Gods as the emperor. In other words, the emperor embodies the teaching of Nihon, and Nihon exists in Japan in the form of the emperor. It is no wonder, then, that the kanjō ritual of initiation within this lineage symbolically transformed the practitioner into the emperor, by handing him the imperial regalia and crowning him. Here, emperorship equalled buddhahood. In this transmission, the Tantric message of antinomian transgression and of bodily enlightenment is rephrased in Japanese THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 71 terms. Tantric Buddhism is characterised by its reversal of renouncement ideas: body over mind, passion over enlightenment, impurity over purity, lay over monastic. This kind of Japanese nativism expanded the scope of the Tantric reversing process by privileging the local over the universal, Japan over India, kami over buddhas, the Japanese Nihongi over Indian sutras, and waka over dhāra7ī. In the process, a notion of Japan emerged that focused on a limited set of recursive elements. The kami, the imperial lineage, the land itself, and waka became the core of a nativist discourse that spread widely in the course of the medieval period; it is reflected, for example, in kanjō of other arts and trades, it is enacted on the Noh stage and referred to frequently in warrior literature.

CONCLUSION

This essay seeks to expand the scope of Japanese ‘nativism’ as that term is commonly understood in the field of Japanese studies. Rather than limiting the term to the early-modern kokugaku school, I propose that nativism has a continuous history that reaches back to the medieval period. Moreover, I have tried to show that at least some central aspects of kokugaku nativism have obvious roots in earlier forms of Buddhist nativism. My findings may seem to contradict those of Satō Hiroo, who argues that the medieval shinkoku discourse was not nativist. I believe, however, that this incongruity is due primarily to a difference in our understanding of the concept of nativism. Satō positions nativism as the opposite of universalism, and he points at universalistic aspects of shinkoku thought in medieval Japan to show that there was a radical break between medieval and modern understandings of the idea that Japan is a divine land. In my view, nativism is not the opposite of universalism but rather a reversal of the hierarchy between the local and the universal. Where ‘orthodoxy’ sees the universal as a realm that is located elsewhere, ‘nativism’ inverts that conventional view and claims that it is the local that is truly universal. I have tried to show that such an inversion occurred both in a Buddhist discourse that developed in medieval Japan, and in early modern kokugaku. This is not to say, of course, that there are no fundamental differences between these two forms of nativism. Many turbulent centuries lie between them, and the intellectual environment had 72 MARK TEEUWEN undergone radical changes. Kokugaku authors showed nothing but disdain for the waka transmissions that were still alive in their own time. Accordingly, the literature on kokugaku has consistently stressed kokugaku’s radical break with medieval traditions. Yet, when we take one step back from the rhetoric of the kokugaku authors themselves, it becomes obvious that while the methodology and terminology of kokugaku was radically different from its nativist forebears, the field they inhabited was the same. Both ascribed universal status to a limited range of topics that embodied ‘Japan’: waka or even the Japanese language itself; the Japanese islands as a sacred territory and a land of origin; the Japanese kami and the myths about them in the classical court histories; and finally the emperor and the imperial lineage. Another concept that is central to this book is the notion of ‘framing’. In the case of Japanese nativism, the rephrasing of older Buddhist nativism by kokugaku authors was an obvious case of the “reframing” of an older discourse. Here, an entire discourse, with all its exfoliations, was lifted out of Buddhism and implanted into another intellectual framework. It is helpful to be aware of the fact that this reframing has occurred, because this helps us to understand the contradictions that emerged as a result. It is less obvious to me how the notion of framing can be used to describe the development of medieval Buddhist nativism. After all, Buddhism was not reframing a pre-existing discourse on Japan, but creating it for the first time. Like Satō, I resist the view that Buddhist nativism was a reframed Shinto discourse; instead, I argue that Shinto as a concept was a product of Buddhist nativism (Teeuwen 2007). Finally, some words must be said on the reasons behind the development of nativism in Japan. The important point here is that these reasons were manifold, and that the incentives to maintain and develop nativist ideas changed over time. Once nativism had emerged, it was found useful by many and taken up in ever different settings. As Satō has shown, nationalism did not come into the equation until modern times. Within nativism’s original Buddhist context, it is worth noting that the notion of Japan as a divine land of origin rose to prominence within Tendai and Shingon at a time when these schools faced an increasing challenge from Pure Land Buddhism and Zen. Both those latter forms of Buddhism were focused on distant lands as sources of salvation: Pure Land THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 73

Buddhism on Amida’s paradise in the distant West, and Zen on China. Developing ‘Japan’ as a source of the Dharma served as a strategy to give a new edge to the older Tendai and Shingon traditions in a competitive environment. The rise of Buddhist nativism also coincided with a decline of court power. Institutions connected with the court, including the large Tendai and Shingon temple complexes, were major sources of nativist thought; it was in such circles that the ancient imperial myths about the kami were rediscovered and put to new uses. The esoterisation of court poetry and court history was also a means to stress the continued importance of the court, in a time when it was leaking power to the first shogunate. Moreover, temple complexes used the notion that Japan is Mahāvairocana’s land of origin to add to their own stature: as we have seen, Mahāvairocana’s Japan was often said to have a central axis that coincided with a famous sacred site (Ise, Mt. Hiei, Ōmine, and others). Control over such a site, and over the knowledge that was necessary to ‘activate’ it, was at the very basis of the cultural capital of Buddhist schools and lineages, and this contributed to the production of nativist thought. Finally, the failed Mongol invasions of 1274 and 1281 added to the attraction of the notion that Japan was a special place, and helped to create a new audience for nativist ideas. At the time when kokugaku entered the scene, it is difficult to discover ‘nationalist’ reasons for a nativist turn. In the 18th century, when kokugaku first emerged, there was no national crisis to speak of, and Japan was not under any acute threat from foreign powers. It makes more sense to regard kokugaku nativism as a result of competition between scholars and teachers of Chinese and Japanese than as a response to an external threat. Of course, the situation was different again in the 19th century, when the West inspired fear both militarily and culturally, as the bringer of Christianity, which was widely seen as a pernicious force that would destroy Japanese society. It was this fear, and the building of the Japanese nation-state in the ensuing decades, that turned nativism into nationalism in the course of the 19th century. 74 MARK TEEUWEN

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abe Yasurō, (2000) ed., Ninnaji shiryō, Shintō hen, Shintō kanjō injin, Nagoya Daigaku Hikaku Jinbungaku Kenkyū Nenpō 2, Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Hikaku Jinbungaku Kenkyūshitsu. Breen, John (2000), “Nativism Restored”, in Monumenta Nipponica 55- 3:429–40. Burns, Susan L. (2003), Before the nation: Kokugaku and the imagining of community in early modern Japan, Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Clemhout, Simone (1964), “Typology of nativistic movements”, in Man 64:14f. Dolce, Lucia (2007), “Mapping the ‘divine country’: Sacred geography and international concerns in mediaeval Japan”, in: Remco E. Breuker, (ed.), Korea in the middle: Korean studies and Area studies, pp.288– 312, Leiden: CNWS Publications. Fuller, Michael A. (2000), “The Heart Sūtra”, in: Pauline Yu et al., (eds), Ways with words: Writing about reading texts from early China, Berkeley: California University Press. Geertz, Clifford (1983), Local knowledge: Further essays in interpretative anthropology, New York: Basic Books. Grapard, Allan (1998), “Keiranshūyōshū: A different perspective on Mt. Hiei in the medieval period”, in: Richard K. Payne, (ed.), Re-Visioning ”Kamakura” Buddhism, Kuroda Institute Studies in East Asian Buddhism 11, Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Harootunian, Harry D. (1978), “The consciousness of archaic form in the new realism of kokugaku”, in: Tetsuo Najita and Erwin Scheiner, (eds), Japanese thought in the Tokugawa period, 1600–1868: Methods and metaphors, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. —— (1988), Things seen and unseen: Discourse and ideology in Tokugawa nativism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Itō Satoshi (2000), “Shintō injin”, in: Abe Yasurō, (ed.), 2000:127–44. —— (2001), “Dainipponkoku-setsu ni tsuite”, in Nihon Bungaku 7 (50):29– 39. Klein, Susan Blakeley (2002), Allegories of desire: Esoteric literary commentaries of medieval Japan, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. —— (2003), “Honji suijaku in literary allegoresis”, in: Mark Teeuwen and Fabio Rambelli, (eds), Buddhas and kami in Japan: Honji suijaku as a combinatory paradigm, pp.177–203, London: Routledge Curzon. La Barre, Weston (1971), “Materials for a history of studies of crisis cults: A bibliographic essay”, in Current Anthropology 12 (1):3–44. Lanternari, Vittorio (1974), “Nativistic and socio-religious movements: A recosideration”, in Comparative Studies in Society and History 16 (4):483–503. THE BUDDHIST ROOTS OF JAPANESE NATIVISM 75

Matsuo Kōichi (2000), “Nihongi kanjō shidai”, in: Abe Yasurō, (ed.), 2000:117–22. McNally, Mark (2005), Proving the Way: Conflict and practice in the history of Japanese nativism, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Nosco, Peter (1990), Remembering paradise: Nativism and nostalgia in eighteenth-century Japan, Cambridge, MA: Council of East Asian Studies, Harvard University. Shintō taikei (1977–94), 120 vols, Tokyo: Shintō Taikei Hensankai. Sueki Fumihiko (2006f), “La place des divinités locales, des bouddhas et du tennō dans le shintō medieval: en particulier la théorie de Jihen”, Cahiers d’Extrême-Asie 16:343–73. Teeuwen, Mark (1999), “Motoori Norinaga on the Two Shrines at Ise”, in: George J. Tanabe Jr., (ed.), Religions of Japan in practice, pp.435–50, Princeton: Princeton University Press. —— (2006a), “Knowing vs. owing a secret: Secrecy in medieval Japan, as seen through the sokui kanjō enthronement unction”, in: Bernhard Scheid and Mark Teeuwen, (eds), The culture of secrecy in Japanese religion, pp.172–203, London and New York: Routledge. —— (2006b), “Kokugaku vs. Nativism”, in Monumenta Nipponica 61- 2:227–42. —— (2007), “Comparative perspectives on the emergence of jindō and Shinto”, in Bulletin of SOAS 70-2:373–402.

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS, VARIEGATED CURRENTS AND ALIEN ELEMENTS: CONTRIBUTION TO THE ORIGINS AND EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF NEW BÖN AND ITS REVELATIONS

JEAN-LUC ACHARD (CNRS, PARIS)

Historically, the native Tibetan tradition known as New Bön (bon gsar, bon gsar ma, or gsar bon and even gsar ma bon) appears on the religious scene of Tibet sometime during the mid-14th century AD and since then has enjoyed incredible developments, making it one of the most active religious traditions in the history of the Land of Snow.1 Of course, it is not as well known as the four main schools of Tibetan Buddhism,2 or as the Bön ‘orthodox’ school, which, for convenience, here will be referred to as g-Yung drung Bon or Eternal Bön. It has never benefited from grand political patronage, except from the necessarily limited support of local minor kings, ruling small principalities in Eastern Tibet, but it has actually become strong enough to challenge the diffusion of Eternal Bön in numerous monasteries throughout Khams and A mdo, mostly owing to the dynamism of the Treasure Revealers (gter ston) that are associated with this movement.3 New Bön is not a homogeneous phenomenon,

1 Despite the considerable amount of literature that this lineage has produced since the Middle Ages, somehow it has remained quite obscure and is not very well represented in the academic works of modern Tibetology. 2 i. rNying ma pas who are associated with the early diffusion (snga dar) of Buddhism during the dynastic period and who have actually quite a lot in common with Bön (in particular in the higher Vehicles); ii. Sa skya pas, iii. bKa' brgyud pas, and iv. dGe lugs pas which are schools that developed during the later diffusion (phyi dar), in the post-dynastic era. There are of course other minor schools such as the Shangs pa bka' brgyud (that one should distinguish from the bKa' brgyud), the Jo nang pa school, which developed from the Sa skya tradition, etc. The Jo nang pa have become so successful in recent years in Eastern Tibet that some of its partisans have requested official representation in Tibetan religious affairs and recognition as the fifth religious school of Tibet (a title which has already been granted to Bön by the Tibetan administration in exile). 3 The fact that New Bön is entirely grounded on gter ma revelations (including a very specific form of snyan brgyud) must not hide the actual literary reality of the

78 JEAN-LUC ACHARD since one can quite easily isolate currents of teachings, in particular those of the famous Four Main Emanation Bodies (sprul sku gtso bo bzhi),4 as we shall see below.

1. THE PROTO-HISTORY OF THE NEW BÖN PHENOMENON

What should be made clear straight from the beginning is that despite some apparent similarities with traditional Tibetan Buddhist schools, such as rNying ma and bKa' rgyud, New Bön is not grounded in these traditions but rather in g-Yung drung Bon. In other words, if some features of New Bön indeed show dependencies on, say, rNying ma works (especially when these New Bön texts are explicitly associated with Padmasambhava or when they are clearly copied or inspired from rNying ma sources), they are clearly used in a Bön context and not a Buddhist one. This has been true since the inception of New Bön in the mid-14th century AD. In other words, it would be a mistake to envision New Bön as, for example, a bridge between Eternal Bön and the rNying ma school: New Bön texts are mainly Bön works, not rNying ma ones.5

New Bön transmissions, since an adept of this tradition would be likely to have Eternal Bön transmissions (and therefore bka' ma teachings), plus specific New Bön gter ma revelations. For instance, there are lineages of transmission of the Zhang zhung snyan rgyud in which the recent line of masters counts only or mostly New Bön hierarchs. Dran pa nam mkha', Vairocana and Padmasambhava play no role in these transmissions, which demonstrates that New Bön is more complex than ordinarily imagined (as being limited to works associated with these three early legendary figures). 4 See infra under paragraph 2-1. 5 This is true even when the works concerned use Buddhist expressions such as chos sku for bon sku, etc. The first 'Jam mgon Kong sprul (1813–99) has rendered this certitude a little less reliable with the inclusion of the rTsa rlung mkha' 'gro gsang mdzod in his Rin chen gter mdzod compilation, which would mean that, theoretically, any Buddhist who has received the Rin chen gter mdzod transmission can practice this gter ma (I have till now [2008] never met any Buddhist master or adept practicing texts from the Rin chen gter mdzod that is engaged in the practice of this New Bön cycle). On the polemics surrounding this cycle, see A-M. Blondeau, “La controverse soulevée par l’inclusion de rituels bon-po”, passim. On the history and structure of the cycle, see Achard, “Kun grol grags pa and the revelation of the Secret Treasury of the Sky Dancers on Channels and Winds”, passim. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 79

1-1. DRAN PA NAM MKHA' AND VAIROCANA As far as the origin of the phenomenon is concerned, New Bön apparently came out into the open quite late in the religious history of Tibet. But lineage holders of this tradition (as well as historians of g-Yung drung Bon) claim that New Bön actually originated in the 8th century AD. According to them, at that time—that is, during the reign of king Khri srong lde btsan—Dran pa nam mkha' and Vairocana6 met together and started to elaborate new teachings on paper. Both are said to have been Bönpo practitioners before they converted to Buddhism, and their purpose was to combine Bön and Buddhist teachings into a new, coherent set of works. There are several later accounts covering the meeting but, as is often the case with Bön histories dealing with pre-10th century Tibet, it is impossible to verify that claim in concrete historical terms. Whatever the case may be, tradition has it that Dran pa nam mkha' and Vairocana compiled works that combine both Bön and Buddhist instructions, thus giving birth to a new form of teachings, which did not exist prior to that time.7 According to the Dran pa bka' thang,8 these events took place when Ye she mtsho rgyal started to hide gter

6 On Dran pa nam mkha' (and his various incarnations), see the recent short essay by Yongdzin Lopon Tenzin Namdak, entitled dBu chad lo rgyus which is included as a preface to the new edition of the sNyan rgyud rin po che nam mkha' 'phrul mdzod dran nges gnyis kyi gzhung cha lag dang bcas pa, Triten Norbutse Library, Kathmandu, 2004, pp.3–15. On Vairocana, see S.G. Karmay, The Great Perfection, pp.17–37, and Ani Jinpa, The Great Image, passim. 7 This merging of both kinds of teachings is clearly the literary ancestor of the theory regarding the single identity between Bön and Buddhism (bon chos dbyer med dgongs don gcig pa), mostly held by New Bön lineage holders. 8 This monumental work in eight volumes was revealed by gSang sngags gling pa (b. 1864) and his yum in 1925 in Khyung po, together with supports (rten) of the Body, Speech and Mind of Dran pa nam mkha'. gSang sngags gling pa later started to transcribe it in 1927, in dBal khyung bla brang, and only completed the work in 1930, in 'Chi med byang chub gling in Khams. The source of the revelation came from a prophecy gSang sngags gling pa received years earlier, when he was in dMu rdo, from a white Sky Dancer (mkha' 'gro sku mdog dkar mo), as well as from repeated visions and exhortations of the Protector of the Treasure (gter srung), Ye shes dbal mo, and others. The colophon (Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, 1st ed., Vol.298, p.606) gives some details about fantastic events (such as a rain of flowers, etc.) occurring just before the revelation but is more than elliptic on how the gter ma were actually retrieved in the form of texts written in the symbolic script of the Sky Dancers. This would need more research. See a short analytical description of the collection in Dan Martin (et al.), A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, pp.536–40. 80 JEAN-LUC ACHARD ma in various places.9 It was also the time when, according to Bön traditional accounts, Bön texts were being converted into Buddhist ones. One obvious point to note is that the role played by Dran pa nam mkha' and Vairocana in the creation of what were to become New Bön works, is very similar to that played by Padmasambhava and Ye shes mtsho rgyal, when they redacted and hid the future gter ma of the rNying ma tradition. In later accounts, such as the corpus represented by the Dran pa bka' thang, all the traditional elements associated with the hiding of treasures (gter ma) are in place, such as codification (gtan la phab pa) of texts, choice of the sanctuary (gnas), entrustment to protectors (gter srung), formulation of a specific aspiration prayer (smon lam), etc. The events of codification of what became New Bön works cannot be proven, historically. It is also unclear which Dran pa nam mkha' should be credited for it.10 It seems certain that it is not the sTag gzig Dran pa nam mkha', who is considered an ancient immortal who has taken a spontaneous birth on a lotus in sTag gzig. In extant literature, the sTag gzig Dran pa nam mkha' plays no role in the time of Khri srong lde btsan. Apart from the attribution to him of a work entitled A dkar dgongs 'dus, he is a very shadowy figure. Now, that leaves us a choice between the Zhang zhung Dran pa nam mkha' and the Bod pa (Tibetan) Dran pa nam mkha'. Yongs 'dzin rin po che’s opinion is that it must be the ‘Tibetan’ Dran pa nam mkha', but this quite evidently conflicts with the account given in the Dran pa bka' thang. The difficulty of identifying clearly who is respon-

9 Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, 1st ed., Vol.298, p.216 et seq. 10 Modern Bönpo scholars acknowledge the existence of three Dran pa nam mkha': one born miraculously on a lotus in sTag gzig; one born in Zhang zhung at a much later date; and one born in Tibet sometimes in the late 7th or early 8th century AD. However, already in works like the Dran don mun sel sgron ma'i 'grel pa, we see some confusion as to the way Dran pa nam mkha' (to whom the authorship of the root-text of the Drang don mun sel sgron ma is credited) was born. Clearly, the author of the commentary considers that there exist two versions of the birth of Dran pa nam mkha' (and not two different individuals with the same name): a miraculous birth (rdzus skyes) and a birth from the womb (mngal skyes). He states (p.53) that “there also exists (such a) viewpoint” (bzhed pa yang yod, regarding the miraculous birth), which shows that he considered these stories as variants referring to a single individual. This problem is discussed by Yongs 'dzin bsTan 'dzin rnam dag in his dBu 'chad lo rgyus (pp.3f.), who however distinguishes two different persons. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 81 sible for the redaction of the works that formed the future New Bön corpus adds to the confusion regarding those three characters who are known under the same name. All we can do right now, is take stock of the various extant claims. To the historian, the whole story must appear spurious, to say the least, even more so when adding the character Vairocana to the picture.11 The association of Vairocana with Bön seems unproblematic, even for Buddhist hagiographers. In the Buddhist version of Vairocana’s life story, he is sometimes seen as someone who upheld both traditions (Bön and Buddhism) and— why not—as someone who ‘translated’ works from one tradition to the other. But he is not depicted as taking part in the creation of a new system that combines both Bön and Buddhism and that would eventually become known as New Bön. As far as I know, the story of the creation of a new system we only find in late Bön sources.12 A final point to be taken into account, is that the creation of the New Bön corpus needs to be distinguished clearly from the transformation of Bön texts into Buddhist ones, such as for example narrated in the Dran pa bka' thang. According to this text (Bon gyi brten 'gyur, Vol.298, p.45), Khri srong lde btsan explicitly stated that this was not the time of Bön anymore. Addressing Dran pa nam mkha', he is even made to say: “I ask you to transform your Bön (texts) into Buddhist (ones)”.13 Regarding the New Bön corpus, tradition holds that Khri srong lde btsan was displeased with the results and demanded that the texts were hidden as Treasures (gter ma). They are therefore theoretically different from the ‘translations’ of Bön works into Buddhist ones.

11 On how Vairocana is envisioned in modern Bön literature, see for instance rNga ba 'jam me, “Lo chen bee ro tsa na'i skor la cung tsam dpyad pa“, in Bon sgo, No.9, pp.130–42. 12 Here again, I limit my remark to the production of the New Bön corpus, not to all the references in which Vairocana speaks of the fundamental sameness of Bön and Buddhism (bon chos dbyer med). This is a quite different subject actually. And by “late sources”, I mean post-dynastic ones, in a very wide sense. 13 P.45.2f.: khyod kyi bon rnams chos su bsgyur bar 'tshal/. And, p.45.3f.: khyod kyis bon rnams chos su bsgyur bar zhus/. See also later p.50.3f.: des na bon bsgyur chos kyi dgos pa chung/ rgyal dang ban dhe'i 'dod pa tshim pa'i phyir/ mdo 'bum gzungs gsum bon gyi lhag lus rnams/ chos kyi tshig bsgyur don dam g-yung drung klong/, etc. 82 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

1-2. PRECURSORS OF NEW BÖN: GYER MI NYI 'OD, RMA STON SROL 'DZIN AND THE STORY OF THE THREE IMMORTALS

Several centuries after the alleged codification of New Bön texts and their hiding for the sake of future generations, a few ancient—but historical—Bön masters have played a special role—which is sometimes styled ‘syncretic’14—in the elaboration of both Bön and Buddhist works, or rather of Bön works in which Buddhist figures have found a place in a non-polemical mode and on an equal footing with other Bön characters. Gyer mi nyi 'od (born in 1108) was one of the precursors of these masters. It is no secret that he considered himself as a manifestation of Vairocana15 and he was open towards Buddhism.16 However, the works he is said to have received in oral transmission from Dran pa nam mkha' or to have discovered as Treasures (gter ma) do not show particular Buddhist influences.17 It is therefore the character of Gyer mi nyi 'od itself that appears beyond any kind of label (described as not attached to being Bönpo or Buddhist) and not necessarily his literary production (which, as said, does not show such openness to Buddhism). One of Gyer mi’s students appears to have been rMa ston srol 'dzin (b. 1092), who followed the transmissions of his master and who also revealed and composed works of his own. As shown by

14 I will refrain from using this adjective in the present context because in modern English, syncretism has connotations which, in my humble opinion, do not really fit with the situation. The idea of amalgamation with which it is associated seems to go way beyond what actually took place. See infra, the conclusion to this paper. 15 See Gyer mi nyid 'od, Rig 'dzin gyer mi nyi 'od kyi skyes rabs rnam thar yon tan thugs rje nyi ma, p.23. 16 Asked whether he was Bönpo or Buddhist, he answered: “When the sun shines on a golden mountain, The mountain and the gold are identical. If you take the dual view of things you may fall into extremism.” (S.G. Karmay, The Treasury of Good Sayings, p.157). 17 Among them are the famed gSang ba bsen thub and the g-Yung drung las rnam par dag pa'i rgyud. See Karmay, op. cit., pp.159f. The account dealing with the origins of Chos in his biography is in droite ligne with the standard views of Bön regarding the necessity to convert beings by the best possible means (and here in particular Indians are meant). It certainly does not present anything new in this context, but may have served as a “canonical” reference on the subject for later authors (even down to the 20th century AD). A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 83

A-M. Blondeau, some narrative elements of these texts—and even some of those of rMa ston’s spiritual heirs and descendants—are devoted to the story of Dran pa nam mkha' and his twin sons, Tshe dbang rig 'dzin and g-Yung drung/Padma mthong grol, the latter is believed to be none other than Padmasambhava himself. The three characters form a triad known as the “three Immortals, Father and Sons” ('chi med yab sras gsum). The most famous version recounting their story is certainly that included in Bon zhig g-Yung drung gling pa’s Tshe dbang bod yul ma, entitled The History of the Oral Transmission of Tshe dbang Rig 'dzin (Tshe dbang snyan rgyud kyi lo rgyus).18 Since all these features have extensively been studied and discussed elsewhere,19 I will not elaborate any further here, but only add that while the literary identification of g-Yung drung mthong grol and Padmasambhava seems to have been generally accepted by traditional g-Yung drung Bon authors, some modern Bön masters, including Yongs 'dzin rin po che, nonetheless regard it as mistaken, despite a quite long history of redundant examples copied in numerous works and despite or because of its sometimes central position in the literary production of New Bön lineage holders.20

2. THE VARIOUS CURRENTS WITHIN NEW BÖN

Modern western scholarship on the subject is of the opinion that the expression “New Bön” (bon gsar) started to be used in the 18th century AD, most probably on account of the impressive activities of Sangs rgyas gling pa and his explicit will to create a new system based on an entirely new set of revealed works.21 Retroactively it also qualifies the revelations of several earlier masters. This seems a little late for a system based on quite a cohesive and complex set of revelations, which—although evidently far from being homogeneous—share common traits that at least go back to the 14th century

18 Tshe dbang bod yul ma, pp.13–40. 19 Cf. Blondeau “Identification de la tradition appelée bsGrags pa Bon lugs”, passim; id., “mKhyen brce'i dba] po: la biographie de Padmasambhava selon la tradition du bsGrags pa bon”, passim; Blezer, in this volume, passim. 20 Private meeting with Yongs 'dzin rin po che, Shenten Ling, 2005. This position contrasts with his former opinion on the subject. 21 Karmay, Feast of the Morning Light, pp.19, 20, etc. 84 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

AD and, of course, to even earlier works, related to the story of the Three Immortals.22

2-1. THE FOUR MAIN SPRUL SKU We still have to determine clearly when the expression “New Bön” was used for the first time, but in any case Bön historians recognise a set of four Emanations Bodies (sprul sku rnam bzhi), who played a key-role in the formation and later development of the movement. These incarnations are: 1. sPrul sku Blo ldan snying po (1360–85), 2. Mi shig rdo rje (b.1650?), 3. Sangs rgyas gling pa (1705–35), and 4. Kun grol grags pa (1700–?).

2-1-1. SPRUL SKU BLO LDAN AND THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW BÖN IN TH THE 14 CENTURY AD Leaving aside the proto-historical origins of New Bön and the religious activities that later tradition attributes to Dran pa nam mkha' and Vairocana, sPrul sku Blo ldan would appear as some kind of historical founder of this tradition (even if the ‘title’ was attributed retroactively). Yet, in his own works he does not present himself like that. Instead, he clearly advertises his faith in Eternal Bön, but also his connection with Padmasambhava, since he considered himself to be a re-embodiment of that 8th century AD Indian master. Still, he does not appear to promote a new tradition at all. His revelations manifestly belong to the Eternal Bön tradition, starting with his famed gZi brjid in 12 volumes.23 sPrul sku Blo ldan was born in Khyung po in 1360, from Tshul khrims seng ge (his father, from the dBra clan) and Rin chen mtsho

22 The designation of these early ‘New Bön’ works as gTer gsar is not without problems, since not all gTer gsar revelations belong to New Bön. Furthermore, as we shall see below, the story of the Three Immortals and the presence of Padmasamabhava do not appear as decisive criteria to determine a work or a transmission as “New Bön”. 23 Blo ldan snying po clearly is a central figure in Eternal Bön. For this reason, recent masters have felt compelled to reconstitute the group of the four main sprul sku, replacing him with bDe chen gling pa (Yongs 'dzin Rin po che, private communication, Shenten Ling 2005). A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 85

(his mother, from the lDong clan).24 His birthplace was the famous sanctuary of Gyim shod Shel le rdzong drug, which is nowadays known as rTse drug.25 Apparently, his father did not care much about raising a family and Rin chen mtsho decided to leave his father and moved to the country of her own clan, lDong yul. There, she and her child worked as goat-herds (ra rdzi). During that period, Blo ldan snying po was known as Nam mkha' rin chen, a name he would later use to sign some of his works. Starting at the age of five, he learned reading, writing and counting. The child seems to have been unusually bright for his age and also capable of wonders that astonished his fellow herders. Among these feats is the well-known and moving legendary account according to which goats would sit in meditation posture next to him when he himself was absorbed in contemplation in the pastures. At first, local people thought that this would only bring problems to the mother and child, but the amount of milk of the goats actually increased. Confronted with the special powers of the child, local people spread the rumour that it was teaching Bön to the goats and that these were engaged in spiritual practice.26 At the age of 12, the young sprul sku took part in the production of copies of the Khams chen handwritten in gold, which was organised by the king of sTeng chen, and despite his young age, he was accepted in the project because of the quality of his calligraphic skills (but not owing to his assiduity and dependability in actual work). Apparently, after the Khams chen episode, Blo ldan snying po started to receive various kinds of instructions and also had visionary

24 The date of his birth is calculated as being four years after the birth of mNyam med Shes rab rgyal mtshan in 1356. The year thus corresponds to 1360 (lcags byi). See Yongs 'dzin Slob dpon bsTan 'dzin rnam dag, sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam thar ngag spros, p.113. This reference, evidently a contemporaneous one, is actually based on earlier accounts such as the various mJal snang works that are now contained in the Blo ldan gsung 'bum in the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.271. 25 On rTse drug see, inter alia, S.G Karmay & Y. Nagano (eds.), A Survey of Bonpo Monasteries, pp.181–9. The description of rTse drug monastery in this reference is actually quite evidently based on an earlier work by Shar yul Phun tshogs tshe ring, Bod kyi bon dgon khag gi lo rgyus dang da lta'i gnas bab, pp.182– 97. On the identification of Shel le rdzong drug with the famed sanctuary of rTse drug in Khyung po, see Thogs med shes rab, “Zhang zhung sgo pa gyim shod shel le rgya skar gyi lo rgyus”, in Bon sgo, No.11, pp.51–6. 26 sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam thar, p.114. 86 JEAN-LUC ACHARD encounters with Knowledge Holders (rig 'dzin), Sky Dancers (mkha' 'gro), etc. In addition to his career as a Treasure Revealer (gter ston), Blo ldan snying po founded four monasteries. The first one was Wa dge shug zhabs dgon pa in Wa dge, in lDong yul country, which he built after a visionary journey to 'Ol mo lung ring. The second one was Bum steng dgon pa, located in Zla shod, where he opened a fountain (chu mig) and where he received the revelation of the Yi dam gshed dmar spyi 'dul cycle. The third monastery was called Bi tho dgon pa, located in Shing rong. The fourth and last one was rGyang shod bon dgon which, as its name indicates, is located in rGyang shod. It is in this last monastery that he received the transmission of the Yi dam dbal gsas rtsod bzlog. In rGyang shod, he also opened the sanctuary of the sacred mountain of the yi dam dBal chen Ge khod and wrote the dkar chag to the place. However, none of these monasteries were sites where he actually resided permanently. He rather preferred to stay in caves, including the cave at the summit of rTse drug, which is known as the Blo ldan gyi sgrub phug, i.e. “the practice-cave of Blo ldan”. His favourite place was actually a tiny house located in Bya ze rdzong, on top of a mountain in Khyung ser. It is this house that is supposed to have been the ‘reliquary’ where he kept the version of the Khams chen written in golden ink. Two different traditions maintain that he lived either till the age of 37 or till 47.27 His works have been classified into a first group, dealing with mDo, sNgags and Sems (based on mKhan chen Nyi ma bstan 'dzin’s dKar chag), and a second one, containing further works, which were not included in the first one and which Yongs 'dzin Rin po che cites according to Hor btsun Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin.28

27 This is discussed in Yongs 'dzin rin po che, sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam thar, p.122 and p.124, where he refers to a gSol 'debs authored by 'Gru btsun Shes rab 'od zer that states that Blo ldan passed away in a Dog year (khyi lo). The first date would be 1396/7 which corresponds to me byi/me glang, while the second would be 1406 (1407 minus the gestation year), which indeed is a me khyi year. 'Gru btsun Shes rab 'od zer was an important lineage holder of the Blo ldan revelations in general and of the Nam mkha' spyi gcod in particular (see infra n.92). 28 sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam thar, p.121. See also the list in Karmay, The Treasury of Good Sayings, p.340. This list dispatches the texts according to a fourfold classification of 1. outer mDo, 2. inner sNgags, 3. secret works (which actually belong to the sNgags section) and 4. innermost secret texts, which are said to be numerous but which actually concern only the Nam mkha' spyi gcod corpus,

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 87

The second group of works, which were enumerated by Hor btsun Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin and listed in Yongs 'dzin Rin po che’s Biography of sPrul sku Blo ldan (p.121), contains titles which have been collected in a single volume entitled sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i gsung 'bum.29 In these works one essentially finds texts based on visionary encounters (mjal snang), said to have occurred in India, O rgyan, sTag gzig, etc. One of the first texts of the collection, the Dang po dbang lugs thob tshul, relates how sPrul sku Blo ldan received these transmissions at the age of 24 in sTeng chen (p.30). An in-depth study of this textual group would clearly reveal the central role played by Dran pa nam mkha', but also of Padma- sambhava, although not in the ‘family mode’ that one would expect based on the yab sras gsum narratives. The New Bön influence is also visible in some of these texts by the use of expressions such as chos sku (p.120) instead of the classical bon sku.

2-1-2. GTER CHEN MI SHIG RDO RJE The second Blo ldan incarnation appears to have been gTer chen Mi shig rdo rje, whose dates are still uncertain.30 There is considerable confusion regarding this person and his identification with the Buddhist master bsTan gnyis gling pa (g-Yung drung Padma Tshe dbang rgyal po).31 He seems to have been a disciple of the former and was himself known as Shel shig g-Yung drung rgyal po. Despite numerous references to Padmasambhava, the corpus of Mi shig rdo rje’s revelations, as presented in the appendix below, appears far less influenced by the Tibetan Buddhist traditions than that of his next rebirth as Sangs rgyas gling pa. I have not been able to locate Mi shig rdo rje’s gSung 'bum, but Bönpos report that it amounts to 15 volumes.

the only rDzogs chen cycle known from sPrul sku Blo ldan. 29 It corresponds to Vol.271 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo (1st ed., and Vol.238 of the 2nd). 30 The general belief is that he was born in 1650 (lcags pho stag), though this does not fit with the dates of his master (g-Yung drung Padma Tshe dbang po). 31 On this personage, see Achard, “bsTan gnyis gling pa (1480–1535) et la Révélation du Yang tig ye shes mthong grol”, pp.57–96. 88 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

2-1-3. A FURTHER STEP IN NEW BÖN—THE REVELATIONS OF SANGS RGYAS GLING PA The third Blo ldan incarnation is the famous gter ston Byang chub rdo rje Sangs rgyas gling pa, who was born in dByibs klong drag po khyung rdzong in the Tsha ba rong kingdom. His father was g-Yung drung tshe dbang rgyal po from the rMe'u clan and is mother was Rin chen mtsho mo, a lady from the sGa clan. Sangs rgyas gling pa apparently was an extraordinary individual who, from an early age, went on pilgrimage to various important Bön sanctuaries, such as Kha ba dkar po, Ri bo rtse drug in Khyung po, Kong po bon ri, etc. In these holy places, he is said to have encountered numerous Wis- dom Sky Dancers (ye shes kyi mkha' 'gro ma), as well as Knowledge Holders (rig 'dzin) such as the Three Immortals. His revelations took the form of both Oral Transmissions (snyan brgyud) and Treasures (gter). Despite his death in his early adulthood, he revealed a considerable amount of works, many of which have found their way into the current editions of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo (in 300 and 333 volumes). Some of these works are like beacons of the New Bön tradition. In addition to being the third sprul sku of Blo ldan snying po, Sangs rgyas gling pa is also the source of a lineage of Sangs gling incarnations,32 which probably has survived down to the present day (with at least a fifth incarnation of Sangs rgyas gling pa).33

2-1-4. KUN GROL GRAGS PA AND THE CONSOLIDATION OF NEW BÖN The life of Kun grol grags pa, the fourth main sprul sku of the New Bön tradition, has been substantially better investigated than that of his master (Sangs rgyas gling pa) and of his spiritual ancestors.34 Kun grol’s role is ambiguous because he never entirely or invariably followed Sangs rgyas gling pa in the latter’s project of elaborating a

32 His first sprul sku was the sangs gling yang sprul rGyal ba'i dbang po (see Kun grol grags pa, dMar khrid dgongs pa yongs 'dus, p.22). 33 His name is sprul sku bSod nams blo gros dbang gi rgyal po. He is the last of the Sangs gling sprul sku that I could identify, but it is possible that we now have a seventh or eighth incarnation. See Achard, The Collected Works of the Bon Treasure Revealer Byang chub rdo rje Sangs rgyas gling pa (in progress), passim. 34 See Karmay, Feast of the Morning Light; and Achard, “Kun grol grags pa and the revelation of the Secret Treasury of the Sky Dancers”. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 89 whole new system. Indeed, his literary heritage shows an evident and deep influence from Sangs rgyas gling pa but also a wish to follow the traditional lines of Eternal Bön, by adding extra works to already existing g-yung drung bon texts. His obvious association with Eternal Bön is accentuated by the fact that he took vows from the then sMan ri Abbot Rin chen 'od zer35 and received from him the name rGyal ba 'od zer. A selection of the many works that he authored appears in the appendix. Kun grol was also an important gter ston who revealed Pure Visions (dag snang), Contemplation Treasures (dgongs gter) and Earth Treasures (sa gter). I have not been able to verify all his revelations yet and await the publication of his gSung 'bum to clarify the authorship and nature of some of the cycles that are provisionally listed in the appendix. Kun grol grags pa had a lasting influence in Eastern Tibet and was recognised as the first of a new lineage of sprul sku. The fifth Kun grol, Rig 'dzin bDud 'dul gling pa—one of the most influential of this incarnation line—played an important role in the early training of Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan and it is probably with him that the future 'ja' lus pa (someone who vanishes into a rainbow body at death) actually learned how to do retreats, by serving as his assistant. The sixth Kun grol, Hūṃ chen 'Gro 'dul gling pa (1901– 56), performed the funerary rites after Shar rdza reached the Rain- bow Body ('ja' lus). However, one should note that even though Shar rdza most likely was influenced by these sprul sku and in particular by the works of the first in the lineage, occasionally he also appears critical of the approach given in the texts of these masters, starting with the mKha' 'gro snying thig of the first Kun grol.36

35 Rin chen 'od zer was installed on the throne of sMan ri in 1722. See 'Go ba dge bshes bsTan 'dzin 'brug grags, Theg chen sangs rgyas g-yung drung bon gyi ngo sprod blo gsar sgo 'byed, p.133. 36 His disagreements were not against lineages or a possible New Bön origin or influence in these works, but rather technical criticism concerning the actual application of key-points (gnad) of practice which, according to him, were badly formulated. See Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, pp.270f. 90 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

2-2. THE LATER TRADITION OF NEW BÖN During the later part of the 18th century AD, after the demise of Kun grol grags pa, the New Bön tradition did not die out. On the contrary, it was held and diffused by the later Kun grol incarnations, as well as by those of Sangs rgyas gling pa, and spread throughout Khyung po, Kong po and all of Eastern Tibet to an unprecedented scale. But individual masters also stand out in these lines of transmission and sprul sku recognitions. In this later stage of the movement, it is of course difficult to mention or even simply list all the individual associated with New Bön, but some prominent figures clearly stand out, such as Me ston Nyi ma rgyal mtshan (b. 1816), bDud 'dul g-Yung drung grags pa (b. 1832), who was responsible for the production of a Kanjur edition that was available in sTeng chen dgon pa, or Tshe dbang bDe chen snying po (1893–1953).37 Among those whose works are still widely used in Eastern Tibet, the famous gter ston dBal 'bar stag slag can (bsTan 'dzin dbang rgyal, b. 1833) features prominently. He was the first root-master of Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan (1859–1934). He was born in Khyung po among the members of the Khyung ser clan and is directly linked to the Sangs rgyas gling pa line of incarnations, because his father is the fourth Sangs gling sprul sku, known as Padma Gar dbang. dBal 'bar was quite precocious in his revelatory career, as he is said to have started receiving oral transmissions from the age of 5. He also revealed gter ma and oral transmissions throughout his life, from visions of Knowledge Holders (rig 'dzin) and Sky Dancers (mkha' 'gro ma) or direct findings. Among his most important revelations are the Khro bo lha rgod thog pa, the rTsa gsum kun 'dus, the sTag

37 On bDe chen snying po, see the table of contents of his dPal gsang bdag gsang ba 'dus pa bsgrub pa'i skor, his 'Od dkar dpag med kyi tshe g-yang bsgrub pa and his Lam lnga mkha' 'gro rgya mtsho'i sgrub skor in Karmay, A Catalogue of Bonpo Publications, pp.168f. See also the preface in Tibetan by Slob dpon bstan 'dzin rnam dag in the Rig 'dzin chen po stong rgyung mthu chen gyi sgrub skor, Vol.I, p.7, which gives the following list of works attributed to bDe chen snying po: 1. Ma tri bka' ma, 2. Phur pa, 3. rTsa gsum, 4. gSang 'dus sgrub pa, 5. gSas mkhar gsang ba sgo dgu'i sgrub pa, 6. Tshe g-yang sgrub pa, 7. Dran pa'i sgrub pa, 8. Tshe dbang sgrub pa, 9. Lam lnga mkha' 'gro rgya mtsho'i sgrub pa, 10. Dran pa dang tshe dbang gi khrid skor, 11. Nyams mgur, and 12. Zhal gdams. His collected works of revelations (gter ma) and oral transmissions (snyan rgyud) are said to amount to 13 volumes. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 91 bla phur bu, the Srid rgyal srog sgrub, the dBal nag khro rgyud, the dBal phur thugs sgrub and the 'Chi med yab sras gsum gyi thugs sgrub, which links part of his revealed works with the Three Immortals.38 The second root-master of Shar rdza rin po che was gter ston bDe chen gling pa (1833–93), whose tradition is special in many ways. Since I have catalogued and studied the author’s Collected Works elsewhere,39 I need not dwell on it for too long here and only mention that they do not really show any specific characteristic of New Bön. It is true that Padmasambhava plays a recurrent and intense role in the life of bDe chen gling pa, since, according to the Autobiography of the author, the Precious Guru appeared to him numerous times throughout his life. However, this was not for indicating gter ma, as one might expect, but rather for songs and prophecies. As can be seen by reading the author’s Collected Works, all his gter ma revelations are associated with Dran pa nam mkha', mKha' 'gro 'Od ldan 'bar ma, and Vairocana. Dran pa nam mkha' appears there as the author of the works whose transmission he entrusted to his consort 'Od ldan 'bar ma, before handing them over to Vairocana, who was in charge of hiding them.40 Another master (and disciple at the same time) of Shar rdza Rin po che was the extraordinary gter ston gSang sngags gling pa, whose spiritual and magical feats permeate the whole contemporaneous tradition of New Bön. He is one of the exemplary links between Eternal Bön and New Bön, and even Buddhism, since he is said to have received several Buddhist teachings41 and is said to have discovered some others as well.42 One example that obviously creates a complex set of links between his New Bön revelations and the “classical” Eternal Bön lines of transmission is his gter ma known as The Tantra of the Principles of the Three Buddha Bodies

38 Many of these works have found their way in the two editions of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. 39 See Achard, Bon po Hidden Treasures, Brill, 2004. 40 Internal literary evidence shows that the Dran pa nam mkha' mentioned in these works is the siddha from Zhang zhung. 41 Including the rDzogs pa chen po yang ti nag po gser gyi 'bru gcig pa'i chos skor of Dung mtsho ras pa phyi ma. 42 I have been unable to locate any of his openly Buddhist gter ma till now but the researches within the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo are just at their inception. 92 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

(sKu gsum don rgyud), revealed in 1885. The contents of this Tantra clearly demonstrate that it is perfectly in line with the previous Tantric and rDzogs chen works in which the Three Immortals play a central role.43 But at the same time, it was the actual source or base on which Shar rdza Rin po che elaborated his Natural Arising of the Three Bodies (sKu gsum rang shar), which doxographically is associated with the A khrid system of meditation. The current version of the sKu gsum rang shar cycle contains several works authored by gSang sngags gling pa, a literary situation that for some contemporaneous Eternal Bön lineage holders creates problems of coherence. We cannot discuss the later stages of the New Bön tradition without mentioning again the famous sixth Kun grol incarnation, Hūṃ chen 'Gro 'dul gling pa, whom Yongs 'dzin rin po che met when he was a child and whom he describes as “a terribly impressive individual”.44 He is responsible for the education of numerous high hierarchs of New Bön in present day Tibet, including his own son, sMon rgyal lha sras rin po che (the actual head of Bön in Tibet and one of the most prominent spiritual figures, both in Bön and in Buddhism, in Eastern Tibet), and the famed rTogs ldan Dri med g-yung drung, who attained a Rainbow Body in 2002, and who was himself a late master of Yongs 'dzin rin po che.45 The charismatic activities of these masters in the recent decades in Eastern Tibet have ensured a widespread diffusion of “Bön” in general and of New Bön in particular, which was promoted further by the publications of various versions of the Bön Kanjur and Tengyur. The inclusion of numerous New Bön titles within these collections is clear evidence for their literary vitality in modern Tibet.

3. EXAMPLES OF ALIEN AND NEW ELEMENTS

There is a number of specific elements from New Bön that one does not find in ‘standard’ g-Yung drung Bon teachings, such as the practice on the yoga of elements ('byung ba'i rnal 'byor) from the revelations of Sangs rgyas gling pa or later rituals centred on rTa

43 See Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, pp.55f. and n.212, p.56. 44 Private communication, Shenten Ling 2004. 45 On rTogs ldan Dri med g-yung drung, see Kun gsal snying po, rNam thar rab bsdus dri za'i pi wang, pp.134–9. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 93 mgrin, Ekajāti, etc. However, since these cases are rather obvious, I will give three brief examples of elements that are more or less current in New Bön works, but that previously did not exist in Bön. One will see that the first of these elements, which concerns traditional cosmological representations, has made its way into Eternal Bön without being questioned in any way. The second concerns a doxographical scheme that was accepted in modern g-Yung drung Bon cycles, again, apparently without any problem. The third is an occult practice that probably has its roots in the rNying ma tradition and has not yet been included in the traditional curriculum of Eternal Bön practices.

3-1. SHAMBHALA AND 'OL MO LUNG RING The oldest account of sTon pa gshen rab’s birth describes the sanctuary of 'Ol mo lung ring and styles it as the “country of the gShen” (gshen yul), its location being vaguely defined as being in the North West (byang nub).46 It is clearly identified as the birthplace of sTon pa gshen rab47 and already appears as more or less endowed with a complex set of representations associated with the Western direction but maybe not with the various etymological interpretations of the name given elsewhere.48 Yet, in the gZi brjid, revealed by sPrul sku Blo ldan, this birthplace is explicitly said to be nowhere else than in Shambhala or is identified with Shambhala. In the colophon of chapter 60 of the gZi brjid, it is said that sTon pa gshen rab took birth in “... the supreme, noble Sanctuary of 'Ol mo lung ring known as Shambhala, or the country of sTag gzig, the western pure realm of 49 Amitābha or Buddha Bye brag dngos med ...” A similar identification occurs in much later works, such as in the Prayer to the Emanation Body (sprul sku'i smon lam) redacted and

46 mDo 'dus, p.16. 47 Pp.41f. 48 In his bDe chen zhing gi smon gyi don gsal bar byed pa'i 'grel pa (p.11), Shar rdza rin po che quotes the gZer mig for this etymology. 49 Dan Martin, A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, p.25: gnas mchog dam pa 'ol mo lung ring ngam/ sham ba la'am/ stag gzig gi yul zhes bya ba/ nub snang ba mtha' yas sam/ sangs rgyas bye brag dngos med kyi zhing khams...”. The mixture of Bön and Buddhist elements is quite obvious here. 94 JEAN-LUC ACHARD commented on by Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan (1859–1934).50 These identifications are made without there being any actual features that would support the idea.51 In fact, in the Shambhala mythology, there is not a single reference to a fully enlightened one having been born there, performing the deeds of a Buddha (like sTon pa gshen rab is said to have done in 'Ol mo lung ring) and there is no mention of Mount g-Yung drung dgu brtsegs, standing at the centre. Moreover, the traditional Bön description of 'Ol mo lung ring52 does not even mention Kālacakra (either as a deity or as a text), nor does it state anything regarding the dynasty of the Kalkin kings associated with the Shambhala mythology. When reading descriptions of both countries concurrently, one can only conclude that what is described are actually two mythological countries and not a unique, single one. So one may wonder why the identification has been made and is repeated in later literature so often. It most certainly was first made by sPrul sku Blo ldan, whose interest in a non-dual approach of Bön and Buddhism is clearly evident from his self-recognition as an emanation of Padmasambhava.53 I consider it a New Bön export into the Eternal Bön. Nowadays, modern authors like Yongs 'dzin bsTan 'dzin rnam dag Rin po che take it for granted and do not question this identification in any way.54 Earlier in the middle of the 20th century AD, dBra ston bsKal bzang bstan pa'i rgyal mtshan (1897–1959) authored a work which, already in its title, identifies both countries.55 The work itself contains a eulogy of the divine land of 'Ol mo lung ring and follows a more or less traditional description of this country.56 We don’t see any link with Shambhala, no mention of Kālacakra, or of the Kalkin dynasty, etc.

50 Shar rdza, bDe chen zhing gi smon gyi don gsal bar byed pa'i 'grel pa, p.4: “Furthermore, the people from India (call) it Shambhala” (gzhan yang rgya gar gyi mi rnams kyis sham bha la/). 51 The identification is taken for granted even in modern articles, such as in dBra khyung sKal bzang nor bu, “'Ol gling bkod pa rgyud don snying po”, in Bon sgo, No.11, pp.25, 30. 52 Quite lengthy and based on earlier sources (such as the gZer mig), in Shar rdza’s bDe chen zhing smon. 53 As evidenced by one of the names he uses: Pad 'byung Nam mkha' rin chen. 54 Private communication, Paris, 1996. 55 sPrul sku'i zhing mchog sham bha la 'od mo'i gling gi rtogs pa brjod pa, gSung 'bum, Vol.2, pp.963–84. 56 It is based on “various cycles of Sūtras, such as the Great Sūtra which are the

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 95

3-2. THE FOUR KINDS OF GCOD PRACTICES The second element, which is some kind of exclusive feature of New Bön—but for some reason now is practiced in Eternal Bön monasteries as well—is a form of gCod known as Drag po'i gcod. The standard classification associated with such ritual practices in Bön defines three types of gCod: • the “Peaceful Cutting” (zhi ba'i gcod) which is traditionally said to be represented by the A dkar zhi gcod, a cycle which has not yet come to light; it is however represented by at least another cycle known as the Orally Transmitted Peaceful Cutting (sNyan rgyud zhi gcod, orally transmitted to Mar ston rGyal legs and enriched by the compositions of others, such as a work by mNyam med Shes rab rgyal mtshan, 1356– 57 1415); • the “Increasing Cutting” (rgyas pa'i gcod) with a central cycle entitled The Great Eternal Cutting (Drung mu gcod chen); the teachings included in this category are said to go back to the famous siddha- figure sTong rgyung mthu can, who revealed them through oral transmission to gShen sras Lha rje (Go lde 'Phags pa g-Yung drung ye 58 shes); and • The “Powerful Cutting” (dbang gi spyod), based on practices aimed at subjugating through power (dbang) and essentially represented by a cycle known as the Secret Cutting of the Sky Dancers (mKha' 'gro gsang gcod), with various works redacted by sKyang sprul Nam mkha' 59 rgyal mtshan, Khro gnyan rgyal mtshan and many others. The New Bön tradition has added a fourth element to this classification, which it designates as “Wrathful Cutting” (drag po'i gcod) and which is represented by numerous cycles or individual texts, the most famous of these certainly is: The Laughter of the Sky Dancers (mKha' 'gro gad rgyangs), redacted by Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan.60 The practice of this work in many Bön monasteries, work of the Revealer [sTon pa gshen rab]” (p.985: ston pa'i mdzad pa mdo chen mo sogs mdo sde du ma...). Most apparently the Great Sūtra—if it has to be taken as an individual title and not a generic one—would correspond to the gZi brjid. 57 This is the Zhi gcod lus sbyin bsdus pa (Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.57, pp.325–36), composed by Shes rab rgyal mtshan in bKra shis phyug mo'i ri (p.336). 58 See Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.31, passim. He signs his works as Drung mu ha ra, which is the zhang skad for g-Yung drung ye shes. 59 See Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.64f. 60 See Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, p.409, No.367. It is clear that these four kinds of gCod are linked to the four activities (phrin las bzhi), as can be seen by the

96 JEAN-LUC ACHARD including sMan ri monastery in Dolanji, has eclipsed that of other gcod texts. There are other important gCod cycles in the New Bön tradition, such as the Heart Drops of Byams ma (Byams ma snying thig) of gSang sngags gling pa (b. 1864). Apparently, the presence of these New Bön texts in the daily practice of traditional g-Yung drung Bönpos basically is due to the fact that both Shar rdza Rin po che and gSang sngags gling pa rather effectively diffused their works (also in printed form) and as a consequence these have had great impact on recent lineage holders of both Eternal and New Bön.

3-3. THE PRACTICE OF THE VARIEGATED GUIDE With this third element, we enter the vast field of the Great Perfection (rDzogs chen) instructions in general and that of dark retreat (mun mtshams) in particular. Such retreats pertain to the most advanced contemplative techniques one is likely to encounter in rDzogs chen context. These teachings are given in great secrecy and aim at accelerating the familiarisation (goms) with the visionary manifestations of Awareness (rig pa) in the context of one or several forty-nine days dark retreats. In the Bön tradition, there are two general groups of dark retreats: 1. those performed at the level of khregs chod and 2. those accomplished within the frame of thod rgal practices. The first ones are rather short and aim at enabling the adept to stabilise his experience of the natural state after the direct introduction to the nature of mind (sems kyi ngo sprod), which properly initiates the practice of khregs chod. I still have not found the first type of retreat specifically in New Bön works, but since New Bön adepts introduced to the Zhang zhung snyan rgyud are often taught the cycle of the Bru rgyal ba'i phyag khrid—the manual of the Zhang zhung snyan rgyud composed by Bru rGyal ba g-yung drung (1242–90), this absence in particular New Bön works is not really pertinent in itself.

place of the mKha' 'gro gad rgyangs in its original collection, the Yang zab nam mkha' mdzod, where it is included in between a practice-text centred on the four activities (Zhi rgyas dbang drag dgongs 'dus sgrub pa) and a homa ritual also associated with these activities (Las bzhi rgyun lnga'i sbyin sreg). Another example of drag po'i gcod rituals is the gcod cycle revealed by Mi shig rdo rje (see supra n.116). A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 97

The second category of dark retreat presents three main different kinds of practices: 1. some retreats are based on yogic devices such as the Pressure of the Ocean (rgya mtsho ar la gtad) and the Entrance into the Glow of the Ocean (rgya mtsho dwangs su zhugs pa; these are the standard techniques of eye pressure and special gazes directed in specific directions);61 2. others are based on “channels and winds” (rtsa rlung) techniques as is the case for the Zhang zhung snyan rgyud for instance;62 and 3. still others are based on the practice of the Peaceful and Wrathful Deities (zhi khro), such as the Yang rtse klong chen or sKu gsum rang shar.63 The cycle of the sKu gsum rang shar is a special case, because it combines both rtsa rlung and zhi khro techniques in a set of two consecutive dark retreats. In New Bön and in certain rNying ma cycles as well, there exists another kind of dark retreat that combines the techniques of standard dark retreats and daylight thod rgal contemplative practices. For this, a special square cell is used, with tiny openings on the four sides. In the course of the day, these are opened, one after another. The instructions covering this kind of practice are collectively known as “Variegated Guide” or “Variegated Guidance” (khra khrid): these obviously constitute an mix between, on the one hand, “Black Guidance” (nag khrid), which corresponds to the instructions associated with the dark retreat, and, on the other, “White Guidance” (dkar khrid), which corresponds to the daylight practice of thod rgal.64 I have investigated nearly all the published (and sometimes also unpublished) literature on Bon rDzogs chen and must conclude that such kinds of retreat and instructions do not exist in the ‘standard’ Eternal Bon rDzogs chen cycles, an opinion which is shared by Yongs 'dzin Rin po che.65

61 See Shar rdza rin po che, dByings rig rin po che'i mdzod, Vol.II, pp.307–31. 62 See An., rDzogs pa chen po zhang zhung snyan rgyud las gcig rgyud 'od gsal bdun skor, pp.715–26. 63 See Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, pp.271f. 64 See Kun grol grags pa, Thod rgal snang ba bzhi yi nyams len, p.190. 65 Private communication, Shenten Ling, 2005. 98 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

4. NO SOUNDS OF SILENCE: WHAT DO ADHERENTS OF ETERNAL BÖN THINK OF NEW BÖN?

I am not certain whether there is an ‘official’ and explicit position of Eternal Bön hierarchs on New Bön (mostly for reasons that we shall discuss in the conclusion) and by this I mean an opinion that they would unequivocally share. To be fair to New Bön adepts, we should also take into account the motivation behind this question. What does it mean if a revelation or a set of teachings is styled “New Bön”? As we shall soon see, the modern answers to this do not necessarily reflect the actual state of affairs. The opinions of Shar rdza Rin po che66 and Yongs 'dzin Rin po che67 are quite well-known and it is obvious that they differ from one another. Indeed, Shar rdza was very critical of the position held by some dGe bshes from sMan ri regarding New Bön and, in fact, he himself was occasionally considered a New Bön master and his works are said to have been influenced by this movement. At one point, a set of his bka' 'bum was sent to the sMan ri Abbot Phun tshogs blo gros, who declared them to be perfectly in line with the teachings of mNyam med Shes rab rgyal mtshan.68 However, contrary to what one might expect, after the official declaration of the Abbot, the question was not yet settled, and it reared its head several times after, in particular for Yongs 'dzin Rin po che. Despite being a lineage holder of the Shar rdza bka' 'bum,69 Yongs 'dzin Rin po che is of the opinion that, with the exception of Shar rdza’s rDzogs chen and sūtric teachings, most of his tantric instructions are influenced by New Bön. However, a detailed study of the works concerned puts this claim in question; in any case, it appears unfounded to me.70 We have seen that if the narratives associated with the Three Immortals are doubtlessly important, they are not the main criteria

66 See Karmay, The Treasury of Good Sayings, pp.185–7. 67 Regularly expressed during his oral teachings and transmissions of some of Shar rdza’s works in the West. 68 Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, pp.392f, No.339. 69 Which he actually received from two lines of transmissions, one passing through mKhan chen bsTan pa blo gros and one through brTson 'grus rgyal mtshan (private communication, Triten Norbutse, 1998). 70 Yet I am not saying that it is entirely unfounded, since Shar rdza himself acknowledges basing himself on some works by Sangs rgyas gling pa, etc. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 99 that qualify a work as New Bön. Far from it, and, to contradict the argument further, we in fact know of several gter ma revelations in which Padmasambhava plays a key role that nonetheless are officially accepted as Eternal Bön.71 Therefore, while the presence of such narratives is certainly a determining factor, it is not a compelling one. The presence of Buddhist expressions such as chos sku, chos dbyings, rdo rje, etc., of course constitutes a more decisive factor, which we find from sPrul sku Blo ldan snying po down to gSang sngags gling pa and definitely also later. However, this usage is limited and restricted to specific instances, such as the visions of Pad- masambhava or other Buddhist figures, during which the gter ston receives instructions which are consciously presented with a Bud- dhist flavour, by the specific use of a Buddhist lexicon. The presence of Buddhist deities, such as rDo rje phag mo in the revelations of Kun grol grags pa,72 appears much more significant in this regard. Furthermore, it is well known that many of the early gter ma of Bön often involved revelation of an already existing volume (po ti), written in Tibetan language and thus easily copied by disciples of the gter ston. On the contrary, New Bön gter ma are often written in so- called Treasure Scripts (gter yig), i.e., in a symbolic script (brda yig), which may simply be a letter, a few graphemes or whole sentences, more rarely a complete text. It is difficult to generalise this remark because there are numerous counter examples, starting with the Oral Transmission (snyan rgyud) type of revelation (usually devoid of gter yig) and with earlier Eternal Bön gter ma, which include gter yig and thus demand transcription (gtan la phab). The existence of gter yig (and shog ser, etc.) apparently enhance the distinction between the two traditions, even though the divide is not entirely clear. As we have seen, the presence of the narratives and teachings associated with Three Immortals is also not a decisive criterion, in spite of the fact that it is regarded as the central one. Instead, with some notable exceptions, New Bön literature shows a tendency to re-connect to the roots of Eternal Bön, with objects of refuge such as sTon pa gshen rab, Bla chen Dran pa nam mkha', and

71 I have in mind the rDzogs chen gser zhun revealed by g-Yung drung Padma Tshe dbang rgyal po; see Achard, L’Or Raffiné de la Grande Perfection, passim. 72 See Achard, “Kun grol grags pa and he revelation of the Secret Treasury of the Sky Dancers”, pp.7f. 100 JEAN-LUC ACHARD even mNyam med Shes rab rgyal mtshan, rather than Padma- sambhava, Ye shes mtsho rgyal, etc. An arena where some striking differences occur, is the way the rituals (cho ga) are performed, with their specific melodies, order of practices, such as placing refuge (skyabs 'gro) before bodhicitta (sems bskyed), etc. This is particularly true for the Sangs rgyas gling pa revelations. The elements which, in the eyes of Eternal Bön hierarchs, distinguish Eternal Bön from New Bön are actually quite variegated. The first one that comes to mind is associated with the ancient historical distinction of Bön into an an “early diffusion” (snga dar) of Bön, corresponding to what they call “Old Bön” (bon rnying)73 or Eternal Bön (g-yung drung bon), and a “later diffusion” (phyi dar), corresponding to New Bön itself.74 This later diffusion is sometimes designated as ‘new diffusion’ (gsar dar), in order to distinguish it from the more standard later diffusion, which of course corresponds to the post-dynastic beginnings of what was to become Eternal Bön in the late 10th or early 11th century AD. Basically, this is as simple as it sounds: Eternal Bön revelations are considered to be the older gter ma revelations by gter ston pre-dating the 14th century AD and New Bön revelations are associated with newer gter ma (although not as gter gsar per se), revealed from sPrul sku Blo ldan down to the present day. One question naturally arises in this context: are there still ongoing contemporary Eternal Bön revelations or are all new Eternal Bön productions merely new compositions? In other words: have traditions of revealed treasure in Eternal Bön, which theoretically at least are still on-going, in fact died out? Not if we are to believe Shar rdza rin po che, who was—it is worthy to note— introduced to the occult ‘art’ of revealing gter ma by none other than gSang sngags gling pa.75

73 This terminology is far from pertinent because it does not protect from misidentifications with what is otherwise known as ‘old Bön’ and which theoretically refers to some pre-sTon pa gshen rab Bön teachings including ‘red rituals’ (dmar chog). 74 If we follow the traditional historical scheme of the later (post-dynastic) Bön tradition, the earlier gter ma were hidden during the reign of king Gri gum btsan po (3rd or 5th century AD?), while the later ones were hidden during the reign of Khri srong lde btsan (8th century AD). 75 Enlightened Rainbows, pp.56–8. The situation is complex, because one has to determinate whether the revealed works that are concerned belong to New Bön or

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 101

This first question—a historical one—is precisely linked to a second one, which directly concerns religious matters. Indeed, for Eternal Bön adherents, early gter ma are supposed to have been hidden prior to the introduction of Buddhism in Tibet, which implies that these old revelations are entirely devoid of Buddhist influence, while those belonging to New Bön are permeated with Buddhist representations, vocabulary, etc. If we leave aside this historico- religious argument, it is indeed true that some New Bön works are either influenced by, or copied from, rNying ma and bKa' brgyud sources (such as some bar do works in the Zhi khro dgongs 'dus)76 and that some overtly use Buddhist vocabulary. To sum up, Eternal Bön adherents consider New Bön in a variety of ways: some judge it as heterodox and entirely based on rNying ma teachings; others consider it as a bridge between Bön and Bud- dhism;77 and others, again, regard it as a new development of Bön that perfectly fits within the ‘enlarged’ corpus of teachings that is associated with sTon pa gshen rab, etc. There is thus neither a unique view nor a single answer to the question that was raised at the beginning of this section. The reason for this probably is that the charismatic nature of some New Bön masters, their dynamic active- ties in spreading Bön (in the larger sense of the word; i.e., including both Eternal and New Bön teachings), the local, royal patronage that some of these later gter ston benefited from, and the way that they enriched Bön literature as a whole, all this contributed to keeping the faith alive, renewed and fresh, and to perpetuating it in times when local persecutions, environmental and political tragedies, etc., put the very survival of Bön into question. Would Eternal Bön have survived without New Bön? It undoubtedly would, and if the former is certainly not the most active Bön tradition in Tibet today, the circumstances of its survival and diffusion in exile have even justified its recognition as the fifth official religious school of Tibet.78

not. 76 I will discuss this in a work in progress on further examples of Bön/Buddhist intertextuality. 77 This is based on the Bon chos dbyer med dgongs gcig theory which I will discuss elsewhere. 78 And this, of course, includes New Bön. 102 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

CONCLUSION

New Bön is a very complex phenomenon that is native to Tibet and that defies any possible reduction to a few simplistic definitions. At first, I was of the opinion that the role played by Padmasambhava— in narratives related to the Three Immortals—was a crucial criterion for determining the adherence of a given work to New Bön. In view of the revelations made by bDe chen gling pa, for instance, it would seem that the situation is more complicated than this. Moreover, there are gter ston such as Bon zhig g-yung drung gling pa, aka rDo rje gling pa, whose revelations also include the narratives of the Three Immortals, but which are not considered to pertain to New Bön. His Tshe dbang bod yul ma is a good example.79 Also, my initial feeling—which mostly developed in contact with Eternal Bön hierarchs—was that there is a kind of insurmountable frontier between g-yung drung bon and bon gsar. Lived reality showed me I was totally wrong in this respect too. Thus, for example, despite the sometimes severe criticism by Yongs 'dzin rin po che on New Bön (and on the fact that it pervades the modern Bön tradition as a whole in Tibet), I discovered that he himself is in fact a lineage holder of some of the gCod cycles that were revealed by gSang sngags gling pa.80 I also realised that gSang sngags gling pa was one of the main masters of sPa ston bsTan pa 'brug grags, who in turn was a master of Hor btsun Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin81 and taught the latter numerous New Bön cycles. Upon researching Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin's biography, I was astonished to find out that he was first trained in the yogic arcane of the rTsa rlung mkha' 'gro gsang mdzod, a heavily Buddhist-influenced work by Kun grol grags pa. The overall picture thus is nuanced and complex, and contains contradictory elements. A few final remarks should suffice to demonstrate the complexity of the status of New Bön works—of course not from within their own lineage but from the point of view of Eternal Bön:

79 See Bon zhig g-Yung drung gling pa, Tshe dbang snyan rgyud kyi lo rgyus, pp.13–40. 80 See Yongs 'dzin rin po che, Bon phyi nang gsang gsum gyi dbang gi brgyud rim, p.71. 81 Obviously an unquestionable and authoritative proponent of Eternal Bön. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 103

• New Bön can be described as entirely inclusive of Eternal Bön, whereas the latter has a tendency to exclude New Bön works, so much so that no New Bön work is included in any Eternal Bön curriculum, at least officially. In other words, New Bön tends to accept and consider as authoritative any work belonging to Eternal Bön, whereas Eternal Bon generally regards New Bön works as spurious. Thus there appears to be a complex dynamic of oppositions and attractions, further complicated by the personal training and relationships of individual masters. • Some New Bön revelations have found a better reception, such as those of sPrul sku Blo ldan, whose works have received some canonical status and recognition by being included in the bKa' 'gyur and brTen 'gyur, whereas most of the revelations of other New Bön masters have not. Yet, their revelations did find their way into the New Bön editions of the two Canons. Now that we have access to a gigantic amount of New Bön works (this was not the case less than ten years ago), the traditional prejudice that New Bön is nothing but a form of rNying ma teachings, to me at least, appears an overstatement and a dramatic oversimplification. The main reason for this is that adherents of New Bön lineages generally practice something that they call Bön, and that places their overall perspective squarely within Bön and not within the rNying ma pa fold. They practice gter ma texts which are associated with early legendary figures, such as Dran pa nam mkha', Padmasambhava, Vairocana, etc., but they do not practice rNying ma gter ma. This obviously and emphatically implies that New Bön does not represent some kind of current that attempts to integrate already existing rNying ma texts or constitutes a bridge between the two traditions, simply because within New Bön there is barely anything that could be recognised as authoritative by rNying ma pas.82 A point that should be investigated further is the explicitly expounded theory of the Bon chos dbyer med dgongs gcig, which places Bön and Buddhism on the same level and which is quite widespread within New Bön lineages. This theory was prevalent during the time of Shar rdza Rin po che, who, in conformity with his links with some dGe lugs and rNying ma masters, openly advocated it. His disciple dBra ston bsKal bzang bstan pa'i rgyal mtshan stands in the same tradition, together with quite a few important Bönpo lamas from Eastern Tibet

82 Even the biographies of Padmasambhava. 104 JEAN-LUC ACHARD who were raised in the circles of masters who advocated the same approach. This includes some of the most authoritative figures of recent Bön history in Tibet, such as, among others, rTogs ldan Rin po che (Dri med g-yung drung, 1908–2002)83 and his own rgyal tshab, Kun gsal snying po.84

83 He was one of the main disciples of the sixth Kun grol rin po che (Hūṃ chen 'Gro 'dul gling pa (1901–56). 84 Some of the latter’s works have recently been compiled into a single volume entitled: Zhang bod chos dang rig gnas skor gyi legs bshad skya rengs gsar pa. See in particular his Bon chos dbyer med dgongs don gcig pa'i lo rgyus shel gyi me long, pp.95–108. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 105

APPENDIX: THE LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS TO NEW BÖN BY THE FOUR MAIN SPRUL SKU, A BRIEF ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY

5-1. THE LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS BY SPRUL SKU BLO LDAN Yongs 'dzin Rin po che, based on Hor btsun Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin,85 lists the following titles among the revelations attributed to Blo ldan snying po:

A. mDo sde — Dri med gzi brjid rab tu 'bar ba'i mdo,86 — Dus gsum mi nub rgyal mtshan gyi mdo,87 — Lhun po brtsegs pa rgyud kyi mdo,88 — bKra shis dpal 'bar khab kyi mdo,89 — bZlas chog rin chen sgron ma 'khor ba dong sprug gi mdo,90 and — dGe spyod yan lag gsum pa'i mdo.91

B. rGyud sde — dPal gsang ba 'dus pa don gyi rgyud,92

85 See supra n.28. 86 This is the famous and longest biography of sTon pa gshen rab, which sPrul sku Blo ldan received during an oral transmission (snyan brgyud) from the sage sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med. On this collection, see Snellgrove, The Nine Ways of Bon, passim; Dan Martin (& al.), Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, pp.23–9. The gZi brjid, as it is known in short, is included in Vols.14–25 of the 3rd edition of the Bon Kanjur. 87 Dan Martin, op. cit., pp.29–31. 88 Not located yet. 89 Not located yet. 90 Bön Kanjur, Vol.60. This is one of the most famous works centred on the meaning and interpretation of the mantric formula Om ma tri mu ye sa le 'du. In due course, numerous extra works have been added to the original collection. Yongs 'dzin Rin po che has produced an expurgated shorter version, for which I have no bibliographic references, except that it is a manuscript in 328 pages. In this version, the root-work of the collection is a long Sūtra in eight chapters (pp.1–148) in which Dran pa nam mkha' plays a central role. See also Dan Martin (& al.), A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, pp.126–30. 91 See Dan Martin (& al.), op. cit., pp.154f. 92 Bön Kanjur, Vol.146. The text, in 33 chapters, is also included in the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.172, pp.1–431. According to the last part of its colophon (p.431.2–5), the text belongs to the many oral transmissions given by sTang chen

106 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

— Rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha' yi rgyud,93 — Rig pa khu byug rtsa ba'i rgyud,94 — gShed dmar spyi 'dul bder gshegs 'dus pa'i rgyud rdzu 'phrul drwa ba,95 — Rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha' rgyud kyi gzhung,96 — dBal gsas rtsod zlog zhi khro'i skor,97 — gSang phur gyi skor,98 — gShed dmar spyi 'dul zhi khro'i skor,99 — gShed nag gi sgrub pa'i cha lag,100 dMu tsha gyer med to Blo ldan snying po. The copy included in the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo is that of 'Gru Shes rab 'od zer who upheld most of sPrul sku Blo ldan’s revelations. 93 Bön Kanjur, Vol.158. 94 Bön Kanjur, Vol.155. 95 Included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.11. The lineage of transmission of this cycle follows that traditionally associated with sPrul sku Blo ldan. According to the dBang rgyud me ri 'khyil ba (pp.829f), the teachings passed through the following masters: 1. gShen gSang ba 'dus pa, 2. dBal chen sTag la me 'bar, 3–6. Lha klu mi gsum, 7. dMu gshen Dran pa nam mkha', and 8. Ra sangs Khod ram. 96 Included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.214. The root-text of the collection is the dPon gsas rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha'i rgyud, pp.1–99, in 13 chapters. The composition of this work is attributed to Dran pa nam mkha', who entrusted the text to gter bdag Ye shes dbal mo. It was then handed over to Blo ldan snying po by sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med in oral transmission (p.99). According to the Nor bu bskang mdos (p.423), some works seem to have been transmitted by Dran pa nam mkha' to sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med directly (and thus not entrusted to the gter bdag). This would need further investigation. 97 Included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.50f., it is also known as the gSas mkhar rin po che spyi spungs rtsod zlog zhi khro'i bsnyen sgrub. Several later works have been added to the collection, as late as the time of bsTan pa 'brug grags, an important lineage holder of the sPa clan in the 20th century AD and a disciple of gSang sngags gling pa. Some works were also composed by gSang sngags grags pa, who received them from Sangs rgyas gling pa (as we have seen the latter is the third incarnation of sPrul sku Blo ldan and upheld the transmissions of Blo ldan’s gter ma revelation. See for instance gSang sngags grags pa, Khro bo'i bsgrub pa'i lag len, p.288. The original transmission of the cycle was given in snyan brgyud mode by sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med to Blo ldan snying po. The actual lineage is enumerated in several texts; see for instance Vol.50, p.726. 98 This most probably corresponds to the cycle of the dBal phur khor bcu gsang sgrub, included in Vol.77 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo and commonly known as the Blo ldan phur pa or Blo ldan gsang phur. The cycle was orally transmitted by sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med to sPrul sku Blo ldan. 99 Included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.11; see supra n.95. 100 Also known as the brNag pa las kyi drwa ba, this cycle is included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.21, with many supplementary works, later added by Kun

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 107

— sTag lha yang gsang bdag rdzogs kyi skor,101 — Bla chen dran pa'i sgrub pa dbang grub,102 — Yang gang ma rgyud ba ga klong chen thugs rje kun grol ma'i sgrub pa,103 — Dran pa yab sras gsum gyi sgrub pa,104 and — Bon skyong skor.105

C. Sems sde106 — rDzogs pa chen po nam mkha' spyi gcod gzhung cha lag.107

grol grags pa (and at least one work by O rgyan Ratna gling pa who appears to be none other than Mi shig rdo rje; see p.161). A brief line of transmission is given on p.224 with the following masters: 1. 'Chi med gtsug phud, 2. gSang ba 'dus pa, 3. sTag la me 'bar, 4–6. Lha klu mi gsum (i.e., Yongs su dag pa, Ye shes snying po and Mi lus bsam legs), 7. Nam mkha' snang mdog, 8. Dran pa nam mkha', 9. sTang (chen) dMu tsha gyer med. The next, tenth lineage holder (not listed) is obviously Blo ldan snying po himself. 101 Included in Vol.40 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. The line of transmission is given as follows on p.113: 1. sTag la me 'bar, 2–4. Lha klu mi gsum, 5. Nam mkha' snang ba mdog can, 6. Dran pa nam mkha', 7. sTang (chen) dMu tsha gyer med. See also the list of works that sTang chen is said to have transmitted to Blo ldan snying po, on pp.113f. Blo ldan is mentioned as the recipient of these transmissions, under the name of Shes rab Gha (=Ghu?) ru rtsal (p.114.3). 102 Not located yet. 103 A note in Yongs 'dzin Rin po che’s list (p.120) states that he has never seen such a cycle. 104 Not located yet. 105 Not located yet. See however, the Bon skyon spyi yi mnga' gsol, attributed to Blo ldan snying po and included in Vol.II of the Bon skyong sgrub thabs bskang gsol bcas, pp.221–34 (obviously too short to make up a whole cycle), Dolanji, 1972. 106 There is only one cycle in this subdivision. 107 Included in Vol.115 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. The line of transmission given in the dBang rgyud rin chen phreng ba (pp.274f.) shows the following succession of masters: 1. Kun tu bzang po, 2. Tshad med 'od ldan, 3.'Phrul gshen snang ldan, 4–6. Yum (bZang za ring btsun), Sras ('Chi med gtsug phud), gShen (gSang ba 'dus pa), 7. sTag la me 'bar, 8–10. Lha (gshen Yongs su dag), Klu (grub Ye shes snying po), Mi (lus bsam legs), 11. Nam mkha snang mdog, 12. Gyer spungs Dran pa nam mkha', 13. sTong (= sTang) chen dMu tsha gyer med, 14. sPrul sku Blo ldan snying po, 15. rGyal mtshan 'od zer, 16. Slob dpon bSam gtan rgyal mtshan, 17. 'Gru btsun Shes rab 'od zer, and 18. Tshul khrims rgyal mtshan. 108 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

5-2. THE LITERARY TRADITION OF GTER CHEN MI SHIG RDO RJE According to Shar rdza rin po che,108 Mi shig rdo rje revealed the following cycles and individual texts, which, in their own right, are very important works for the New Bön tradition in general: — Zhi khro dgongs 'dus,109 — sMra seng gi skor,110 — Khro bo dzwa dmar 'khyil ba,111 — Yab sras dril sgrub,112 — rKyang sgrub,113 — Dran pa gsang sgrub,114

108 S.G. Karmay, The Treasury of Good Sayings, p.342. 109 Not entirely located in the brTen 'gyur but certainly not to be confounded with the Kun grol grags pa cycle with the same title, which is to be found in Vols.69f. of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. There is actually a text from the Zhi khro bder gshegs 'dus pa'i rgyud included in Vol.188 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo (pp.213–311), but it is apparently associated with the Khro bo dzwa dmar 'khyil ba cycle (see infra, n.111). Another work in the same volume, entitled rTsa gsum gnad kyi sgrub mchog (pp.505–45), is said to have been extracted from the cycle of the Zhi khro dgongs pa 'dus pa (p.544.5f.) 110 Not located yet. 111 See Vol.188 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, pp.213–311, and other works in the same volume. These texts came as an oral transmission (snyan brgyud) to Mi shig rdo rje. The untitled work contained in pp.313–16 of this volume lists quite a long lineage of masters after the gter ston; the line of transmission for this cycle is as follows: 1. Kun bzang yab yum, 2. gShen lha 'od dkar yab yum, 3. sPrul sku gShen rab, 4. dBal gshen sTag la me 'bar, 5. rGyal gshen Mi lus bsam legs, 6. Klu grub ye shes snying po, 7. Nam mkha' snang ba'i mdog can, 8. Dran pa nam mkha', 9. Rig 'dzin dMu tsha gyer med yab yum, 10. Yum chen mKha' 'gro 'Od ldan 'bar ma, 11. rNal 'byor chen po Mi shig rdo rje, 12. Zhu g-yas chen po bSod nams dbang grags, 13. Zhu g-yas sprul sku g-Yung drung dbang rgyal, 14. Zhu g-yas chen po bsTan 'dzin dbang rgyal, 15. Zhu btsun chen po bSod nams dbang rgyal, 16. Zhu g-yas rjes 'jug g-Yung drung bstan 'dzin, 17. dMu gshen chen po sKal bzang dar rgyas, 18. mTshungs med 'gran bral Nam mkha dbang grub, and 19. mKhas grub chen po Kun bzang tshul khrims. 112 This cycle is included in Vol.154 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo and also contains works that are associated with the rKyang sgrub form (pp.9–11), the Dran pa gsang sgrub (pp.33–60), etc. According to the gSol 'debs thugs rje sprin dpung (p.31), the collection was orally transmitted to Mi shig rdo rje by sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med through Sri pa'i rgyal mo. 113 Not located yet, although there is a text entitled Yab sras rkyang sgrub skor in Vol.154 of the brTen 'gyur (pp.9–11), which is attributed to Rin chen rgyal mtshan, who composed it in mThong grol ri khrod. As can be deduced from its presence in the same volume, the text is included in the collection of the Yab sras dril sgrub. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 109

— Tshe dbang yang zhun skor,115 — Drag gcod gnam lcags thog mda',116 — Tshe dbang thugs sgrub,117 — Rol pa bam chen rgyud gzhung skor,118 — rDzogs chen gser zhun,119 — Bla ma zhi drag gi sgrub skor,120 — Ge khod gsang this,121

114 See the Bla chen dran pa gsang sgrub 'phrul gyi me long, included in Vol.154 of the brTen 'gyur (pp.33–60). Mi shig rdo rje received it in oral transmission in Shel le rdzong drug (rTse drug). 115 This cycle is one of the most interesting in terms of rDzogs chen teachings attributed to the revelations of Mi shig rdo rje. It is an oral transmission (snyan brgyud), which is to be found in Vol.32 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. According to the Tshe dbang gsang ba yang zhun gyi brgyud rim (pp.173–77), the line of transmission for this cycle is: 1. Kun tu bzang po, 2. gShen lha 'od dkar, 3. gSang ba 'dus pa, and 4. Tshe dbang rig 'dzin. From the latter, two lineages branch out, with a male lineage (pho rgyud) and a female one (mo rgyud). The first one is as follows: 4. Tshe dbang rig 'dzin, 5. Dran pa nam mkha', 6. Padma 'byung gnas, 7. g-Yung drung rgyal po, 8. dBang grub smon gyi rgyal po, 9. g-Yung drung grags pa, 10. Dran pa ye shes, 11. Mu la ratna (Nam mkha' rin chen), Ratna pa tra, & Mu la thogs med, 12. Shel zhig mi shig rdo rje rtsal, 13. Khyung po dge bshes (g-Yung drung bstan 'dzin), and 14. Rus (=sKu) tsha Blo ldan snying po. The female lineage has the following members: 4. Tshe dbang rig 'dzin, 5. mKha' 'gro zhi ba mtsho, 6. 'Od ldan 'bar ma, 7. Ye shes mtsho rgyal, 8. Las grub Ye shes kyi mkha' 'gro, 9. Shel zhig g-Yung drung rgyal po. 116 Not located properly but see the rTsa rgyud drag gcod nyams su len thabs in Vol.127 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo (pp.859–66) as well as other works in the same volume (which is dedicated to the bDe gshegs dpa' bo bdun pa). This drag gcod cycle is apparently also known as the Drag gcod dpal bdun. 117 See the Tshe dbang gsang sgrub yid bzhin nor bu, included in Vol.154 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo (pp.61–87). This is an oral transmission from the Sky Dancers. For the Tshe dbang thugs sgrub, see also Vol.136 of the same collection, which contains the revelations of Padma rdo rje, who might be either Mi shig rdo rje himself or rather Sangs rgyas gling pa. This awaits further clarification. 118 Not located yet. 119 Not located yet. This cycle should not be confused with the rDzogs chen gser zhun or rDzogs chen gser gyi yang zhun (revealed by Mi shig rdo rje’s master, g-Yung drung Tshe dbang rgyal po), which is part of the Bon dgongs 'dus (or Bon g-yung drung dgongs 'dus) collection, which itself constitutes one of the fifteen subdivisions of the lTa ba sangs rgyas dgongs 'dus. See Achard, “bsTan gnyis gling pa (1480–1535) et la Révélation du Yang tig ye shes mthong grol”, pp.60, 66; and id., L’Or Raffiné de la Grande Perfection, Vol.I, pp.15–20. 120 Probably corresponding to Vols.62f. of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. 121 Not located yet, though there is a Ge khod gsang this kyi gtor zlog included in Vol.122 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, pp.155–60, attributed to sTong rgyung

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— Nyams yig che chung,122 — sNgags 'bum,123 — A dkar dgongs 'dus.124

Some other important works and cycles that are revealed by Mi shig rdo rje but which are not listed by Shar rdza rin po che are: — Padma thugs kyi rtsa rgyud,125 — gSas mkhar g-yung drung yongs rdzogs,126 — bDe gshegs dpa' bo bdun pa,127 and — Mi shig khro bo.128 mthu chen (p.160) and styled as the Ge khod 'khros (= khros) pa nag po'i thugs sgrub. The revelation is unsigned. 122 Not located yet. 123 Not located yet. 124 Apparently, this cycle has not surfaced yet. There is however a text entitled dGongs 'dus a dkar 'od kyi sgom sgrub nyams len (Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.86, pp.471–587) which was discovered in Kha ba dkar po by an unnamed gter ston described as a nges med khyung po bla ma (“an undetermined master from Khyung po”) who may well be Mi shig rdo rje. This requires more research. 125 Not listed in Shar rdza rin po che’s Treasury of Good Sayings, p.342. This is an oral transmission (snyan brgyud) that Mi shig rdo rje received from the ancient sage sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med. The cycle is also known as the Gu ru drag po'i rdo rje gur khang, see Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.62f. Extra works included in Vol.257 (pp.169–294, some of which are already in Vol.62) are exclusively centred on the practice of the Khyung. According to the proto-historical redaction of the texts, its authorship is attributed to Padmasambhava, who is said to have composed some of the works in Brag dmar yer pa (see Vol.257, p.279). An interesting line of transmission is given in Vol.62, p.401: 1. bon sku Kun tu bzang po, 2. gshen 'Chi med gtsug phud, 3. sprul sku Padma 'byung gnas, 4. Ye shes mtsho rgyal, 5. dus mtha'i rnal 'byor Mi shig rdo rje rtsal. It would thus appear that some texts were transmitted though Ye shes mtsho rgyal and others through sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med. Note that one of the names used by the gter ston is rNal 'byor Mi shig O rgyan gling pa (vol. 62, p.557) and that a large part of this corpus is constituted by a sub-cycle entitled dBal chen drag po rngam pa'i thugs rgyud (in Vol.63). 126 For the time being, I would identify this with the Mi shig khro bo cycle; see infra no.128. 127 See Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.127 and 128. Some of the works included in this collection were handed over to Mi shig rdo rje by Padmasambhava in oral transmission. Others were received from Dran pa nam mkha', sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med and some unnamed Sky Dancer. The two main Protectors of the cycle are sTag gdong dmar po and Brag btsan dmar po as can be seen in Vol.127 (pp.551 and 567). See also the long line of transmission of the dPa' bo bdun sgrub in Vol.128, pp.249–51. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 111

5-3. THE REVELATIONS OF SANGS RGYAS GLING PA It would take too long to list all of the works of Sangs rgyas gling pa, but the most important ones are: — gNas brten bcu drug gi cho ga,129 — gSang mchog rol pa'i rgyud,130 — Tshe sgrub g-yung drung gur khang,131 — sTag la bkra shis gter rdzong,132 — Tshe sgrub rdo rje go khrab,133

128 See the cycle by this name in Vol.71 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It contains an oral transmission of tantric works, which Mi shig rdo rje received from sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med. 129 The teachings associated with this cycle are included in Vol.263 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur (1st ed.) 130 This cycle is an oral transmission (snyan brgyud) which Sangs rgyas gling pa received in 1733 (correct me glang to chu glang), in Shel brag mngon dga'i rtse, from the Sky Dancer Zil gnon dbyings phyug ma. It contains some of the most detailed tantric and rDzogs chen instructions among the corpus revealed by this gter ston. Sangs rgyas gling pa received the extensive section of this cycle known under the name of Kun bzang bla med kyi yang thig (gi) rgyud from the same Sky Dancer, as well as from other ḍākinīs, in 1716 (?, me pho sprel, this sounds quite early to me) and he later started to transcribe it in Shel le rdzong drug (Ri bo rtse drug) in 1727 (me lug). The cycle of the gSang mchog rol pa'i rgyud is included in Vol.145 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. 131 This cycle (included in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.136) is centred on a long-life practice of Tshe dbang rig 'dzin and was orally transmitted to Sangs rgyas gling pa by the goddess Thugs rje kun grol; see Sangs rgyas gling pa, g-Yung drung gur khang (b)rgyud rim, p.77. The central work of the collection is the Tshe dbang rig 'dzin thugs kyi sgrub pa tshe sgrub g-yung drung gur khang, ib., pp.127–213. It was orally transmitted by Thugs rje kun grol to Padma g-yung drung (aka Sangs rgyas gling pa) in 1722 (chu pho stag) in Brag dkar rtse rdzong. 132 This cycle is included in Vol.3 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo and is a good example of an entirely New Bön set of texts (it is not used by Bönpos advocating g-Yung drung Bon though), which has a totally ‘standard’ lineage of transmission. This lineage is given in the bCud dril bkra shis gter rdzong gi rtsis rgya dang brgyud rim rnam dkar pad ma'i 'phreng ba, pp.2: 1. ye nyid kyi bon sku Kun tu bzang po, 2. longs sku bDe gshegs rigs lnga, 3. yum chen bZang za ring btsun, 4. gshen chen gSang ba 'dus pa, 5. 'Chi med rig 'dzin chen po (Dran pa nam mkha'). Then the teachings were entrusted to 6. Thugs rje byams ma, who handed them over to 7. Byang chub rdo rje rtsal (Sangs rgyas gling pa) in oral transmission (snyan brgyud). The next three masters in the line of transmission are also lineage holders and adepts who are not exclusively associated with New Bön: 8. Gru btsun g-Yung drung 'od zer, 9. bSod nams tshul rgyal (Tshul khrims rgyal mtshan), and 10. rGyal ba blo gros (op. cit., pp.2f.). 133 The standard name of this cycle is the 'Chi med mgon po tshe dpag med kyi sgrub pa and it is included in Vol.79 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur. The use of the rdo

112 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

— Bla ma dgongs 'dus,134 — bKa' thang kun snang gsal sgron,135 — Che mchog dran pa drag po,136 rje and the inclusion of mGon po tshe dpag med are obvious borrowings from Buddhism. Some of the works were discovered by Sangs rgyas gling pa in 1729 (sa mo bya) as Treasures (gter ma and thus transcribed from yellow scrolls, shog ser) hidden in the Glorious Cave (dPal phug) of Mi shig rdo rje in the hermitage of Padma 'bum gling in the Nam mkha' mdzod mountain range of Southern Tsha ba rong. Sangs rgyas gling pa later transcribed them in 1730 (lcags pho khyi), in bKra shis smin grol gling in rGya rong. See Las byang rdo rje go khrab kyi cha lag ma le phreng ba'i le'u, p.22 and in other colophons from this collection (p.34, etc.). There is an emphatic use of the word rdo rje throughout the cycle and in nearly all the titles included in this cycle. 134 This cycle is better known as the Bla ma rig 'dzin dgongs 'dus and is included in Vol.173 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It is a gter ma revelation that Sangs rgyas gling pa discovered in 1727 (me mo lug) in Seng ge rdzong (aka Seng ge g-yu rdzong), East of the famed sanctuary of Gyim shod shel brag rdzong drug (modern rTse drug). He kept the seals of secrecy for three years and eventually transcribed the scrolls in 1730 (lcags pho khyi), in Padma gsang sngags gling, a hermitage located in Tsha ba Padma 'bum gling (see Sangs gling, sGrub pa'i las byang zla dkar 'od kyi 'khor lo, p.101). Several extra works have been added to the original collection by further New Bön gter ston such as gSang sngags gling pa with his Las bzhi rgyun lnga'i sbyin sreg (pp.181–99), for instance. One of the most important texts of the cycle is the short but famous Rig 'dzin rtsa rgyud bee ro'i thugs thig, (pp.409–33) which Sangs rgyas gling pa revealed under the name of Padma g-yung drung dpa' bo rtsal. 135 This is a four-volume set included in the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.33–36. It contains the extended version of the life of Padmasambhava, in 141 chapters. The correct order of the volumes should be: 36, 33, 34, and 35. The text blithely uses specific Bön compounds like bon gyi sku (vol. 36, p.11) or bon dbyings (ib., p.35) in the middle of Buddhist names such as rDo rje sems dpa' and the names of the five Jinas (ib., p.13), etc. Other important enlightened Bön figures such as Tshad med 'od ldan, 'Phrul gshen snang ldan, Kun snang yangs khyab (= Kun snang khyab pa), Sangs po 'bum khri, 'Od dkar gnas 'dzin (a form of gShen lha 'od dkar), mKha' 'gying dkar po, gSang ba 'dus pa, sTag la me 'bar and others are also listed (ib., pp.61f.), which accentuates the heterogeneous character of this revelation. The long colophon in which Sangs rgyas gling pa discusses some key issues of the revealed literature concerning the life of Padmasambhava appears in Vol.35, on pp.833–59. 136 This cycle is included in Vols.106 and 107 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. Its standard title is Che mchog dran pa yang gsang drag po'i skor/rgyud and it is often abbreviated as the Dran pa yang gsang drag po, Dran pa yang gsang, or, in an even shorter form, as the Dran drag. The practices are centred on Dran pa nam mkha' and are very widespread, both in Eternal and New Bön cycles. Yongs 'dzin rin po che (bsTan 'dzin rnam dag) lists gter ma revelations associated with this personage, such as the Dran pa phyi sgrub, Nang sgrub, Dran pa gsang sgrub, Dran

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 113

— rTa mgrin ga'u dmar nag,137 — Don yod zhags pa'i skor,138 — Ma tri 'od dpag med,139 pa snying thig, Dran pa rnga gshang ma, and various supplementary works, as well as a cycle orally transmitted to Blo ldan snying po and entitled Dran pa yang gsang yid bzhin nor bu (dBu 'chad lo rgyus, p.5). He does not mention the present Sangs rgyas gling pa version in yang gsang form which is somehow quite diffused and still practiced in numerous Bön monasteries in Eastern Tibet. All those following the recent tradition of gSang sngags gling pa (who upholds most of the Sangs rgyas gling pa revelation) are quite accustomed to the ritual practices of the Dran pa yang gsang revealed by the third Blo ldan. 137 Also known as the Tshe dbang padma rab khros. This cycle is included in Vol.8 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It is a gter ma revelation made in 1730 (lcags pho khyi) in sTag gu brag dkar nor bu yang rtse and it was later transcribed in 1732 (chu byi). According to the dPe rtsis brgyud rim dang bcas pa (p.5 et seq.), the cycle has two lines of transmissions: a long one (ring brgyud) and a short one (nye brgyud). According to the first one (which actually includes the second, see p.14), the lineage is as follows: 1. Kun tu bzang po, 2. 'Chi med gtsug phud, 3. gSang ba 'dus pa, 4. dBal chen sTag la me 'bar, 5. Yongs su dag pa, 6. Mi lus bsam legs, 7. 'Phags pa Klu grub (Ye shes snying po), 8. Nam mkha' snang ba'i mdog can, 9. Dran pa nam mkha', 10. 'Od ldan 'bar ma, 11. Tshe dbang rig 'dzin, 12. Padma thod phreng. Both Tshe dbang rig 'dzin and Padma thod phreng are said to have practiced the cycle of rTa mgrin dbang drag 'bar ba and to have manifested themselves in their wrathful form, respectively that of Tshe dbang drag po dbang gi rgyal po, and that of Padma drag po 'jigs byed khros pa (ib., p.10). On this occasion, they oath- bound Ekajāti (who is designated as zhang zhung sngags kyi srung ma), as well as Nag po chen po (Mahākāla), both becoming the Protectors of the cycle. The teachings were then transmitted (it is unclear if the transmission is done by the Three Immortals or just one of them; there is an elliptic reference [on p.11] to a 'chi med rig 'dzin chen po which may point to either one of the three) to 13. Ye shes mtsho rgyal and 14. Vairocana who both hid the texts for the sake of future generations (p.12). Vairocana entrusted the cycle to Ekajāti and gShin rje nag po, and Sangs rgyas gling pa discovered it in 1730 (lcags pho khyi), as stated above. 138 This cycle is included in Vol.24 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It was discovered in 1730 (lcags pho khyi) in Khro chu'i brag in rGyal mo rong. With the exception of a few occasional words from Bön lexicon (like bon nyid, p.294; g-yung drung, p.358; bon nyid kyi dbyings, p.424, etc.), the cycle could really pass for a perfect Buddhist work without much changes—and preferably a rNying ma one, due to the presence of a few isolated rDzogs chen representations and due to the attribution of the redaction of some of the texts to Padmasambhava (see p.361). The story telling the origin of the cycle advocates the miraculous birth of Padmasambhava on a lotus (pp.427f.). The cycle is thus a fairly good example of an otherwise totally Buddhist gter ma work integrated in a Bön context. 139 Included in Vol.14 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, this cycle is also known as the Kun bzang 'od dpag med pa'i skor. Its root-text is the Rin po che rmad du byung ba yi ge'i snying po'i rgyud mchog pad ma dkar po (pp.481–569), which

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— Ghu ru zhi drag,140 — Tshe sgrub ye shes go cha,141 — bDud 'dul gsang ba'i sgrub pa,142 and — rTa mgrin yang snying.143

Shar rdza rin po che used for the composition of his commentary to the Longs sku'i smon lam (see Achard, Enlightened Rainbows, p.65). The cycle “... was revealed by Sangs rgyas gling pa (1705–35) in 1730 (lcags khyi, p.568) and transcribed in 1732 (chu byi) in rGya nag glang chen where Sangs rgyas gling pa was staying in the house of his donor, the local king bSod nam dbang drag (...). The rGyud mchog Padma dkar po itself (pp.481–569) was enunciated by gSang ba 'dus pa who gave it to the Knowledge-Holders of the Gods, Nāgas and Men (lha klu mi yi rig 'dzin, namely Yongs su dag pa, Ye shes sNying po and Mi lus bsam legs), as well as Nam mkha' snang ba mdog can. The latter gave the transmission to Dran pa nam mkha' and his sons ('Chi med dran pa yab sras) who gave it to Vairocana and sTang chen dMu tsha gyer med. The version of the text that we now have is said to have been fixed and hidden by Vairocana ...” (Enlightened Rainbows, p.65 n.237). 140 This cycle is to be identified with the bKa' gsang mkha' 'gro'i snyan rgyud gu ru'i thugs bcud and is included in Vols.66 and 67 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It is an oral transmission (snyan brgyud) which Sangs rgyas gling received from Thugs rje kun sgrol (in 1726–27, me rta and me lug) in Shel le rdzong drug (rTse drug) and would, for the most part, constitute a perfect rNying ma work, except for the use of bon sku, etc. 141 This cycle is part of the Thugs rje chen po 'khor lo sdom pa'i rgyud and constitutes the main section of this tantric cycle. It is included in Vol.209 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo and was discovered as a Treasure (gter) by Sangs rgyas gling pa in Pha wong padma can in 1732 (chu byi) and was later transcribed from the yellow scrolls in 1733 (chu glang), in bSam grub nor bu'i gling in Hor. The Great Compassionate One (Thugs rje chen po) is the primordial Buddha Kun tu bzang po (cf. inter alia pp.284, 296, etc.), identified with chos sku sNang ba mtha' yas (Amitābha). One should note the use of Buddhist terms, e.g. in the title of the sPros med chos sku zang thal ye shes dra ba (pp.271–81), and other expressions like zab chos thugs rje chen po gsang skor (p.279), etc. Sangs rgyas gling pa signs some of the works with different names, including by O rgyan byang chub snying po bde ba'i rdo rje rtsal (p.281). 142 This cycle is included in Vol.167 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It is an oral transmission which mKha' 'gro dkar mo mDangs ldan 'od 'phros gave to Sangs rgyas gling in the hermitage of dBen gnas mDzod nag lhun grub. Sangs rgyas gling pa signed the colophons under the names of Padma, Padma'i rje, Padma g-yung drung rje, 'Phags btsun Mi 'gyur g-yung drung bstan pa'i rgyal mtshan, etc. On page 199, he gives one of his secret names (gsang mtshan) as being Padma g-yung drung. Despite using typical Bön expressions such as bon sku, the cycle could be easily mistaken for a Buddhist (rNying ma) work. 143 The full title of this cycle is Che mchog rta mgrin yang snying 'dus pa. I have not been able to locate it in the collections available to me, but oral tradition that I had access to (in dGa' mal dgon pa) reports that it includes a rDzogs chen work,

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 115

5-4. THE LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS BY KUN GROL GRAGS PA Among the many works that were authored by Kun grol grags pa, I should like to mention:144 — Sangs rgyas bstan pa spyi yi 'byung khungs yid bzhin nor bu 'dod pa 'jo ba'i gter mdzod,145 — sKyes bu gsum gyi byang chub sgrub thabs legs bshad lam gyi rim pa'i khrid yig rnam bshad thar lam gsal byed,146 — brDa sprod bya ka ra 7a'i 'grel pa kun snang gsal ba'i sgron me,147 etc.

I have not yet been able to list all his treasure revelations and still await the publication of his gSung 'bum, for clarifying the authorship and nature of some of the following cycles. His most celebrated revealed works can be listed as follows: — mKha' 'gro dgongs 'dus,148 — dMar khrid dgongs pa yongs 'dus,149 entitled rDzogs chen klong gsal rab 'byams, together with a rDzogs chen klong gsal rab 'byams theg dgu'i geg sel. These were discovered in gNas chen drag po rdzong, in 1730 (lcags khyi). 144 I soon hope to deal with the details of his Collected Works, once I have access to the complete collection that is said to have been recently reprinted in Tibet. 145 This is a fascinating work, relating the history of Bön and Buddhism in Tibet. It is included in Vol.270 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, pp.197–552. 146 Included in Vol.95 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, pp.33–251. This work is a detailed commentary on the Byang chub sgrub thabs legs bshad lam gyi rim pa'i gzhung (ib., pp.1–14), an important lam rim composition by sKu mdun bSod nams g-yung drung, the eighth sMan ri Abbot, actually based on an earlier, famed work by Yar me ba. The commentary by Kun grol grags pa is not officially transmitted in sMan ri, but The sMan ri Slob dpon Phrin las nyi ma confirmed (Dzogchen Samten Ling, 2006) that it is studied by those practicing the Lam rim by the eighth sMan ri Abbot. 147 Included in Vol.187 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, pp.1–257. This is a commentary on the sum rtags but it actually covers the sum bcu pa, the rtags kyi 'jug pa, and the method for reading mantras correctly. 148 This cycle is included in Vol.43 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. It is variously known as the mKha' 'gro dgongs pa kun 'dus, the mKha' 'gro snying thig, the mKha' 'gro snying thig dgongs par rang grol, Ma rgyud mkha' 'gro dgongs 'dus, or by even longer titles, such as the Yang zab dmar khrid rdzogs pa che(n po) mkha' 'gro snying gi thig le, etc. Its short title is the gSang ba ye shes. Most of the texts were composed as early as 1738 (see the Nges don snying po, p.66). 149 Or dMar khrid dgongs pa kun 'dus. It is included in Vol.78 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo. Some works were apparently composed as early as 1730 (see the Phyag rgya chen po thar pa'i skas lam, p.287.4). This is an interesting example

116 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

— Zhi khro dgongs 'dus,150 — dMar mo mdzub tshugs,151 — rTsa rlung mkha' 'gro gsang mdzod,152 and — Ma mo rbod gtong.153

of a cycle combining instructions on Phyag rdzogs dbu gsum, namely Mahāmudrā, rDzogs chen and Madhyamaka, an approach that one shall find again a century later in the revelations of bDe chen gling pa (see Achard, Bon po Hidden Treasures, pp.19–21). 150 Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.69f. This is one of the numerous zhi khro cycles to be found in the Bön tradition. It is partially based on the earlier revelation associated with the oral transmission (snyan brgyud) received by sMon rgyal Dam pa rang grol. It is considered as one of the most authoritative cycles on zhi khro and as constituting the “Bön po Book of the Dead”. The first volume of the collection, for instance, includes the root-text of the Dam pa rang grol oral transmission known as the Zhi khro dgongs pa kun 'dus thos chog rang grol chen mo'i rgyud las snyan rgyud thos grol bar do 'phrang sgrol, pp.315–414. 151 Included in Vol.42 of the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, this cycle represents a condensed form of the dMar khrid dgongs pa yongs 'dus. According to the colophon of the root-text of the cycle (pp.3–64), it was written at the behest of g-Yung drung bDud 'dul rdo rje, who requested his master to compose a work on the main practice (dngos gzhi), as a necessary complement to the practice of the preliminaries as explained in the Lam rim commentary authored by Kun grol rin po che (see infra n.146). This root-text—actually untitled but known under the same name of Khrid yig dmar mo mdzub tshugs—was written by Kun grol in 1762 (chu pho rta), when he was 63 (62 according to our way of calculating). 152 On this cycle, see Achard “Kun grol grags pa and the revelation of the Secret Treasury of the Sky Dancers”, passim. 153 Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.46. Its complete name is the Ma mo rbod gtong snang srid zil gnon. Its lineage of transmission is given in the Ma mo sbod (=rbod) gtong snang srid zil non gyi rtsis rgya dang bla ma'i brgyud rim, pp.6f.): 1. Bon sku Kun tu bzang po (yab yum), 2. Longs sku gShen lha 'od dkar (yab yum), 3. 'Phrul gshen snang ldan (yab yum), 4. 'Chi med gtsug phud (yab yum), 5. gSang ba 'dus pa (yab yum), 6. sTag la me 'bar (yab yum), 7. Yongs su dag pa (yab yum), 8. Mi lus bsam legs (yab yum), 9. Ye shes snying po (yab yum), 10. sNang ba mdog ldan [=can] (yab yum), 11. Dran pa nam mkha' (yab yum), 12. Vairocana (who hid the cycle in dMu rdo in rGyal mo rong), 13. Las 'phro gling pa (a.k.a Kun grol rin poche, styled as an emanation of Dran pa nam mkha', p.7). According to the same work (p.7), it would appear that the whole cycle was completed in 1738 (sa rta). A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 117

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. WESTERN SOURCES Achard, Jean-Luc (2004), “bsTan gnyis gling pa (1480–1535) et la Révélation du Yang tig ye shes mthong grol”, Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines, No.5, CNRS, Paris, Avril 2004, pp.57–96. —— (2004), Bon po Hidden Treasures—A Catalogue of gTer ston bDe chen gling pa’s Collected Revelations, Brill’s Tibetan Studies Library, Vol.6, Brill, Leiden 2004. —— (2005), “Kun grol grags pa and the revelation of the Secret Treasury of the Sky Dancers on Channels and Winds—an inquiry into the development of the New Bon tradition in 18th century Tibet”, The Tibet Journal, Vol.XXX, No.3, 2005, pp.3–32. —— (2006), L’Or Raffiné de la Grande Perfection—Volume I—La pratique des Préliminaires, Khyung-Lung, Sumène 2006. —— (2008), Enlightened Rainbows—The Life and Works of Shardza Tashi Gyeltsen, Brill’s Tibetan Studies Library, Vol.18, Brill, Leiden 2008. —— (forthc.), The Collected Works of the Bon Treasure Revealer Byang chub rdo rje Sangs rgyas gling pa. Ani Jinpa (2004), The Great Image: The Life Story of Vairochana The Translator, Shambhala Publications, 2004. Blezer, Henk, “The Paradox of Bön Identity Discourse—Some Thoughts on the rMa Clan and on (b)sGrags pa bon lugs, gTer gsar, Bon gsar and g-Yung drung Bon”, included in the present volume. Blondeau, Anne-Marie (1985), “mKhyen brce'i dba] po: la biographie de Padmasambhava selon la tradition du bsGrags-pa bon, et ses sources”, in G. Gnoli & L. Lanciotti, ed., Orientalia Iosephi Tucci Memoriae Dicata, Serie Orientale Roma, Vol.LVI, pp.111–58, Roma 1985. —— (1988), “La controverse soulevée par l’inclusion de rituels bon-po dans le Rin-čhen gter-mjod. Note préliminaire”, in H. Uebach & J. Panglung, ed., Tibetan Studies, Proceedings of the 4th Seminar of the International Association of Tibetan Studies, pp.55–67, München 1988. —— (1990), “Identification de la tradition appelée bsGrags pa Bon lugs”, in T. Skorupski, ed., Indo-Tibetan Studies, Papers in Honour and Appreciation of Professor David L. Snellgrove’s Contribution to Indo- Tibetan Studies, pp.37–54, Tring 1990. Karmay, S.G. (1972), The Treasury of Good Sayings—A Tibetan History of Bon, London Oriental Series, Vol.26, London 1972. —— (1977), A Catalogue of Bonpo Publications, The Toyo Bunko, Tokyo 1977. —— (1988), The Great Perfection—A Philosophical and Meditative Teaching of Tibetan Buddhism, Brill, Leiden 1988. —— (2005), Feast of the Morning Light, The Eighteenth Century Wood- engravings of Shenrab’s Life-stories and the Bon Canon from Gyalrong, Bon Studies 9, Senri Ethnological Reports 57, National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka 2005. 118 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

Karmay, S.G & Nagano, Y. (2003) eds, A Survey of Bonpo Monasteries and Temples in Tibet and the Himalaya, Bon Studies 7, Senri Ethnological Reports 38, National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka 2003. Martin, Dan, Electronic version of the mDo 'dus, undated file, 85 pages. Martin, Dan (& al.) (2003), A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, Bon Studies 8, Senri Ethnological Reports 40, National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka 2003.

154 2. TIBETAN SOURCES

Kun grol grags pa (1700–?) — sKyes bu gsum gyi byang chub sgrub thabs legs bshad lam gyi rim pa'i khrid yig rnam bshad thar lam gsal byed, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.95, pp.33–251. — mKha' 'gro dgongs 'dus, in ib., Vol.43. — Thod rgal snang ba bzhi yi nyams len, in ib., Vol.42, pp.189–204. — brDa sprod bya ka ra Na'i 'grel pa kun snang gsal ba'i sgron me, in ib., Vol.187, pp.1–257. — Ma mo rbod gtong snang srid zil gnon, in ib., Vol.46. — Ma mo rbod gtong snang srid zil non gyi rtsis rgya dang bla ma'i brgyud rim, in ib., Vol.46, pp.5–7. — dMar khrid dgongs pa yongs 'dus, in ib. mo, Vol.78. — dMar mo mdzub tshugs, in ib., Vol.42. — Zhi khro dgongs 'dus, in ib., Vols.69–70. — Sangs rgyas bstan pa spyi yi 'byung khungs yid bzhin nor bu 'dod pa 'jo ba'i gter mdzod, in ib., Vol.270, pp.197–552.

Kun gsal snying po — rNam thar rab bsdus dri za'i pi wang, in Zhang bod chod dang rig gnas skor gyi legs bshad skya rengs gsar pa, Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2004, pp.134–9. — Bon chos dbyer med dgongs don gcig pa'i lo rgyus shel gyi me long, ib., pp.95–108. sKu mdun bSod nams g-yung drung Byang chub sgrub thabs legs bshad lam gyi rim pa'i gzhung, in ib., Vol.95, pp.1–14. sKyang sprul Nam mkha' rgyal mtshan & al. mKha' 'gro gsang gcod, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.64f.

154 All references to the Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo are to the first edition, unless stated otherwise. A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 119

Gyer mi nyid 'od, Rig 'dzin gyer mi nyi 'od kyi skyes rabs rnam thar yon tan thugs rje nyi ma, Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.200, pp.1–110.

'Go ba dge bshes bsTan 'dzin 'brug grags, Theg chen sangs rgyas g-yung drung bon gyi ngo sprod blo gsar sgo 'byed, Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1999. rNga ba 'jam me, “Lo chen bee ro tsa na'i skor la cung tsam dpyad pa“, in Bon sgo, No.9, pp.130–42.

Thogs med shes rab, “Zhang zhung sgo pa gyim shod shel le rgya skar gyi lo rgyus”, in Bon sgo, No.11, pp.51–6.

Dam pa rang grol Zhi khro dgongs pa kun 'dus thos chog rang grol chen mo'i rgyud las snyan rgyud thos grol bar do 'phrang sgrol, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.69, pp.315–414.

Bon zhig g-Yung drung gling pa Tshe dbang bod yul ma, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.261.

Blo ldan snying po (b. 1360) — sTag lha yang gsang bdag rdzogs kyi skor, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.40. — Nor bu bskang mdos: Rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha' yi rgyud las nor bu bskang mdos, in ib., Vol.214, pp.407–23. — dPal gsang ba 'dus pa don gyi rgyud, Bon Kanjur, 3rd ed., Chamdo, n.d., Vol.146; Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.172, pp.1–431. — dPon gsas rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha'i rgyud, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.214, pp.1–99. — sPrul sku blo ldan' snying po'i gsung 'bum, in ib., Vol.271. — Bon skyon spyi yi mnga' gsol, in Bon skyong sgrub thabs bskang gsol bcas, Vol.II, Dolanji, 1972, pp.221–34. — dBang rgyud rin chen phreng ba, Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.115, pp.213–75. — dBal gsas rtsod zlog zhi khro'i skor, in ib., Vols.50f. — rDzogs pa chen po nam mkha' spyi gcod gzhung cha lag, in ib., Vol.115. — gZi brjid, in Bon Kanjur, 3rd ed., Chamdo, n.d., Vols.14–25. — bZlas chog rin chen sgron ma 'khor ba dong sprug gi mdo, ib., Vol.60. — Rig pa khu byug rtsa ba'i rgyud, ib., Vol.155. — Rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha' yi rgyud, ib., Vol.158. 120 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

— Rig 'dzin 'dus pa thabs chen mkha' rgyud kyi gzhung, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.214. — gShed nag gi sgrub pa'i cha lag, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.21. — gShed dmar spyi 'dul bder gshegs 'dus pa'i rgyud rdzu 'phrul drwa ba, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.11. — gSang phur gyi skor: dBal phur khor bcu gsang sgrub, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.77. dBra khyung sKal bzang nor bu, “'Ol gling bkod pa rgyud don snying po”, in Bon sgo, No.11, pp.25–32. dBra ston bsKal bzang bstan pa'i rgyal mtshan (1897–1959) sPrul sku'i zhing mchog sham bha la 'od mo'i gling gi rtogs pa brjod pa, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.277, p.963–84.

Mi shig rdo rje — Khro bo dzwa dmar 'khyil ba, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.188. — Gu ru drag po'i rdo rje gur khang, in ib., Vols.62f. — Ge khod gsang this kyi gtor zlog, in ib., Vol.122, pp.155–60. — *dGongs 'dus a dkar 'od kyi sgom sgrub nyams len, in ib., Vol.86, pp.471–587. — Dran pa gsang sgrub, in ib., Vol.154, pp.33–60. — bDe gshegs dpa' bo bdun pa, in ib., Vols.127 and 128. — Padma thugs kyi rtsa rgyud, in ib., Vols.62f. — Bla chen dran pa gsang sgrub 'phrul gyi me long, in ib., Vol.154, pp.33–60. — Bla ma zhi drag gi sgrub skor, in ib., Vols.62f. — dBal chen drag po rngam pa'i thugs rgyud, in ib., Vol.63. — Mi shig khro bo, in ib., Vol.71. — rTsa rgyud drag gcod nyams su len thabs, in ib. Vol.127, pp.859–66. — Tshe dbang thugs sgrub, in ib., Vol.136. — Tshe dbang yang zhun skor, in ib., Vol.32. — Tshe dbang gsang sgrub yid bzhin nor bu, in ib., Vol.154, pp.61– 87. — Tshe dbang gsang ba yang zhun gyi brgyud rim, in ib., Vol.32, pp.173–77. — Yab sras rkyang sgrub skor, in ib., Vol.154, pp.9–11. — Yab sras dril sgrub, in ib., Vol.154. — gSol 'debs thugs rje sprin dpung, in ib., Vol.154, pp.29–31.

A FOURFOLD SET OF EMANATIONS 121

Yongs 'dzin Slob dpon bsTan 'dzin rnam dag — dBu chad lo rgyus, in sNyan rgyud rin po che nam mkha' 'phrul mdzod dran nges gnyis kyi gzhung cha lag dang bcas pa, Triten Norbutse Library, Kathmandu, 2004, pp.3–15. — Bon phyi nang gsang gsum gyi dbang gi brgyud rim, in sMan ri'i yongs 'dzin slob dpon bstan 'dzin rnam dag rin po che'i gsung 'bum, Vol.4, Triten Norbutse Library, Kathmandu, 2005, pp.31–71. — sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam thar ngag spros, ib., Vol.4, pp.111–25. — Untitled: Tibetan preface to the Rig 'dzin chen po stong rgyung mthu chen gyi sgrub skor, Vol.I, Dolanji, 1978, pp.1–8.

Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan (1859–1934) — bDe chen zhing gi smon gyi don gsal bar byed pa'i 'grel pa, in Shar rdza bka' bum, Vol.12, Chamdo, 1990, pp.1–178. — dByings rig rin po che'i mdzod, Vol.II, in ib., Vol.2.

Shar yul Phun tshogs tshe ring, Bod kyi bon dgon khag gi lo rgyus dang da lta'i gnas bab, Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2002.

Shes rab rgyal mtshan Zhi gcod lus sbyin bsdus pa, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.57, pp.325–36. gShen gsas lha rje Drung mu gcod chen Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.31.

Sangs rgyas gling pa (1705–35) — bKa' thang kun snang gsal sgron, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vols.33–6 — bKa' gsang mkha' 'gro'i snyan rgyud gu ru'i thugs bcud, in ib., Vols.66f. — Ghu ru zhi drag, in ib., Vols.66f. — sGrub pa'i las byang zla dkar 'od kyi 'khor lo, in ib., Vol.173, pp.7–101. — bCud dril bkra shis gter rdzong gi rtsis rgya dang brgyud rim rnam dkar pad ma'i 'phreng ba, in ib., Vol.3. pp.1–3. — Che mchog dran pa drag po, in ib., Vols.106f. — 'Chi med mgon po tshe dpag med kyi sgrub pa, in ib., Vol.79. — rTa mgrin ga'u dmar nag, in ib., Vol.8. — sTag la bkra shis gter rdzong/rdzogs, in ib., Vol.3. — Thugs rje chen po 'khor lo sdom pa'i rgyud, in ib., Vol.209. — Don yod zhags pa'i skor, in ib., Vol.24. — bDud 'dul gsang ba'i sgrub pa, in ib., Vol.167. — gNas brten bcu drug gi cho ga, in ib., Vol.263. 122 JEAN-LUC ACHARD

— dPe rtsis brgyud rim dang bcas pa, in ib., Vol.7, pp.1–15. — Bla ma dgongs 'dus/ Bla ma rig 'dzin dgongs 'dus, in ib., Vol.173. — Ma tri 'od dpag med, in ib., Vol.14. — Tshe sgrub rdo rje go khrab, in ib., Vol.79. — Tshe sgrub ye shes go cha, in ib., Vol.209. — Tshe sgrub g-yung drung gur khang, in ib., Vol.136. — Tshe dbang padma rab khros, in ib., Vol.8 — Tshe dbang rig 'dzin thugs kyi sgrub pa tshe sgrub g-yung drung gur khang, in ib., Vol.136, pp.127–213. — g-Yung drung gur khang (b)rgyud rim, pp.75–7. — Rig 'dzin rtsa rgyud bee ro'i thugs thig, in ib., Vol.173, pp.409–33. — Rin po che rmad du byung ba yi ge'i snying po'i rgyud mchog pad ma dkar po, in ib., Vol.14, pp.481–569. — Las byang rdo rje go khrab kyi cha lag ma le phreng ba'i le'u, in ib., Vol.79, pp.3–22. — gSang mchog rol pa'i rgyud, in ib., Vol.145. gSang sngags grags pa Khro bo'i bsgrub pa'i lag len: gSas mkhar rin po che spyi spungs rtsod pa bzlog pa'i khro bo'i bsgrub pa'i lag len bsdus don nyams su len thabs dwangs shel me long, in Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, Vol.50, pp.241–89. gSang sngags gling pa (b. 1864) — Dran pa'i bka' thang: rGyal kun spyi gzugs dran pa nam mkha' rje'i/ rnam thar g-yung drung gsang ba'i mdzod chen, Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, 1st ed., Vols.274, 291, 293, 294, 295, 296, 297 & 298. — Las bzhi rgyun lnga'i sbyin sreg, in ib., Vol.173, pp.181–99.

Anonymous — rDzogs pa chen po zhang zhung snyan rgyud las gcig rgyud 'od gsal bdun skor, in sNyan rgyud nam mkha' 'phrul mdzod dang zhang zhung snyan rgyud skor, Delhi, 1972, pp.715–26.

THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE SOME THOUGHTS ON THE RMA CLAN AND THE MANNER OF BSGRAGS PA BON, AND ON ‘ETERNAL’ BÖN, NEW TREASURES, AND NEW BÖN

HENK BLEZER (LEIDEN UNIVERSITY)

INTRODUCTION

For many the name Tibet will evoke colourful imagery of Tibetan Buddhist culture set in a vast and inaccessible high-altitude habitat. Partly due to the exile predicament of Tibetans, a wider audience now has heard of His Holiness the Dalai Lama—that most famous spokesman for ‘the Tibetan cause’ and an engaging ambassador of Tibetan Buddhism and culture. It is less well-known that ethnic Tibet also harbours minority cultures, such as Bön, a significant minority religion in Tibet. Still, a casual observer might easily mistake Bön for a Tibetan Buddhist sect.1 Bönpos, the adherents of Bön, will of course beg to differ. For about a millennium, they have developed distinct and interesting subaltern identity discourses and by now entertain a veritable ocean of stories on what sets them apart from their more well-known Buddhist compatriots, who have dominated the Tibetan cultural scene for most of that time. Systematic research within the Three Pillars of Bön research program on the main ‘pillars’ of Bön identity2 is gradually opening up new perspectives from which to understand Bön as it emerges at the turn of the first millennium AD. Particularly, work on visualisations of a heartland of Bön and its sacred landmarks,3 and reflection

1 See Govinda (1966:220ff). 2 ‘The Three Pillars of Bön’: Doctrine, ‘Location’ & Founder—Historiographi- cal Strategies and their Contexts in Bön Religious Historical Literature, funded by NWO Vidi (Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research) scheme of subsidies for innovative research, Leiden 2005–2010. 3 Such as the fabled ‘Silver Castle’; Blezer 2011b, Creation of a Myth. 124 HENK BLEZER on its embedding in narratives on a founder of Bön, gShen rab mi bo,4 yield very surprising insights into the dynamics of still on-going negotiations on Bön identity, which moreover bear comparison to other cultural contexts—hence this volume. These narratives pertain to various factions in the emerging Bön scene. I will specifically deal with the literary traces of one important group, the rMa clan, which keeps surfacing all along my quest for old story paradigms and narremes that are relevant to early Bön identity. Elsewhere, I presented the earliest evidence for Bön as it emerges during the early phyi dar, the second diffusion of Buddhism in Tibet, 10th–11th c. AD.5 Here, I discuss slightly later times and particularly engage that nebulous (b)sGrags pa bon lugs, Manner of ‘bsGrags pa Bon’, and, in bird’s eye view, sketch its relation to the early rMa ston teaching lineage. These are topics that Anne-Marie Blondeau has written most extensively and incisively about.6 The focus on rMa folks will move my analyses of the historiography of emerging Bön still further away from both religious historical and from prevalent academic sensibilities. It may eventually even contribute to a Gestalt switch in our perceptions of what Bön once was and still is.

FAR FLUNG PLACES AND WESTERN ORIGINS: 'OL MO LUNG RING, ‘TA ZIG’, & ZHANG ZHUNG

Bönpos project their origins into far western Tibetan regions called Zhang zhung, and ultimately beyond that, even further west, into 'Ol mo lung ring and Ta zig (cf. Tajikistan and wider ancient Persia). Due to a lack of data it is difficult to sift fact from fiction. According to Tibetan and perhaps also Chinese historical sources, Zhang zhung was a powerful kingdom in larger western Tibet, which in more recent accounts even includes parts of present-day India and Nepal. It allegedly had its own king, or even lineages of kings, Zhang zhung languages and ‘Bön’ religion. It is said to have existed independent from the ‘Central Tibetan’ Yar lung dynasty, until the 7th–8th c. AD.

4 See Blezer 2008a, RET 15. 5 E.g., Blezer 2011b, Creation of a Myth; Lecture SOAS March 2007 (see Blezer 2008a, addendum 2009); and lecture at the Oriental Institute, Oxford, March 2008. 6 But see also Karmay, “The Origin Myths of the First King of Tibet as Revealed in the Can lnga”, in Karmay (1998:282–309). THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 125

In previous work, I have argued that tropes of far-western origins of Bön, in regions such as Zhang zhung and Ta zig, quite surprisingly, only become thematic relatively late in Bön identity discourse. In fact, the earliest self-consciously Bön narratives, in the mDo 'dus7 and the Klu ‘bum8 and other early sources from the turn of the first millennium, by and large ignore these two crucial geographical entities, both of which have become so intricately involved with later Bön identity. At the same time, the earliest traceable narrative elements for a founder and a heartland of Bön, which later identity discourse engages, curiously, all seem to imply locations more centrally in Tibet, at least for the origins of the narratives that these elements hail from, if not for their referents. With a bit of luck, we may be able to trace the earliest occurrences of such elements back to their most original contexts and there they may even imply early topographical realities. But we should always keep in mind that the relevance of those early identifications for later self-consciously Bön narratives, into which they are recycled, may be limited. In any case, these remote origins should not detain us here further.

A LOOK AT THE MIRROR OF HISTORY

We need not rest our case after analysis and deconstruction of presumed western origins of Bön and its founder. In fact, I propose to mould insights into emerging Bön that are forthcoming based on our search for a heartland and founder of Bön, and the important role of figures with rMa names, into a systematic methodological point of departure, and pursue my preliminary conclusions, as working hypotheses, further in subsequent centuries of the inceptive period of Bön. It is our recurrent experience that Bön antecedents, in early, self- conscious, religious historical narratives, appear construed or emerge (if we want to avoid the suggestion of conscious agency). Consider- ing the fact that in such emerging narratives, expression of particular

7 The short ‘hagiography’ of the founder of Bön, which developed the first centuries of the second millennium AD or the turn of the first, at the earliest; for the dating see Blezer 2010, William of Ockham. 8 The ‘Hundred Thousand’ verses on nāgas (snake deities). Partly, these may be contemporaneous (starting 10th c. AD?) and partly perhaps also later: the collection may have developed over some time. 126 HENK BLEZER structures and potentials for meaning usually prevail over historical and geographical fact, it seems commendable to refocus for our analyses in a systematic manner from the narrated context of religious historical narratives to the history of the narration itself. I propose to look at the ‘mirror’ of history, rather than, as usual, in it.

PEOPLE—EARLIER ORIGINS: GSHEN & DMU VERSUS RMA CLANS

Besides western origins, narrative tropes in Bön identity discourse also involve (and cultivate) the memory of important and supposedly ancient Bönpo clans; most notably, of course, those well-known and thoroughly ‘Bön-sounding’ gShen and dMu families (Lhagyal 2000). These are clan names that are directly related to the (story) character of the founder: sTon pa gShen rab(s) m(y)i bo, who is supposed to be of gShen and dMu stock (see, e.g., mDo 'dus, chapter VI). Elsewhere (Six Marriages, in RET 15), I show that the gShen rab(s) figure as it is relevant to later Bön has its most immediately verifiable origins in narrative constructs and not in any other historical realities (cf. forthcoming Ph.D. thesis by Kalsang Norbu). The alleged centrality of the mentioned gShen-related clans in pre- tenth-century periods, like the projections of occidental origins for Bön, may equally turn out to be a later ideological construct, imposed upon sparsely surviving historical data. With the choice for a gShen rab(s) founder—particularly telling if rabs would indeed have to be read as lineage—obviously, one also invites the whole gShen clan to a prominent place at the table. But, in apparent contradiction to the ideologically narrated sociological centre of the dMu or gShen clan of the founder, in work on the heartland of Bön, one cannot help but notice that the earliest extant non-Buddhist Dunhuang narratives that are relevant to bon and gshen figures and that demonstrably have fed into early Bön discourse, instead often involve a cluster of rMa names at the central nexus of their own creation. Here too, these names, eventually, could perhaps be traced to real-life (rather than fictional) people, living some time before the stories were recorded (probably relatively late), in Dunhuang texts; but, for the reasons stated before, pursuing that will not be my main concern. Instead, I will try to put a handle on some non-Buddhist interest groups that promoted Bön at the beginning of the phyi dar (10th–11th c. AD). THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 127

As a working hypothesis, I should therefore like to propose a shift in research focus from the ideal-typical gShen and dMu tropes of ‘pure’ but maybe fictive Bön identity that religious traditions proffer to perhaps more convincingly historical realities of the ubiquitous prominence of rMa clan names in connection with early, self-consciously non-Buddhist or Bön interest groups.

CONTRADICTIO IN TERMINUS: ‘BRANDING’ ECLECTIC BÖN

Blondeau has shown that phyi dar non-Buddhist interest groups with a rMa name clearly show ‘ambivalent’ (term as used by Blondeau), somewhat eclectic or, if you wish, ‘syncretistic’ tendencies. I am well aware that ‘syncretism’ is a problematic term, perhaps better to be avoided, but more PC options that evoke similar dynamics of cultural construction or emergence presently are simply lacking. I will continue to use it on a scare-quote basis. I therefore also prefer to use “syncretistic” instead of “syncretic/syncretist”: I take the liberty to define that adjusted term as I go along. In any case, establishing substantial ‘syncretistic’ tendencies in the phyi dar, so at the very beginning of the formation of Bön as we know it, may induce a Gestalt switch in its own right, a new perspective which forces us to reconsider the historical and historiographical relationship between much-used but hitherto little-examined systematic markers of identity in Bön historiography: so-called g-Yung drung bon or ‘Eternal Bön’, and more ambivalent, somewhat eclectic Bön-Buddhist trends. Earlier, similar trends are also already distinguished as so-called gTer gsar, or ‘New Treasure’ movements9 (‘treasure traditions’ are involved in the revelation of supposedly concealed materials, often texts). Later, these trends were labelled Bon gsar or ‘New Bön’.10 With the wisdom of hindsight, these ideologically charged names may merely be convenient, inherently un- stable, situational, and not necessarily consistent labels that are nowadays—and perhaps always were—mainly produced and redefined

9 At least since the 14/15th c. AD: e.g., sPa btsun bsTan rgyal dpal bzang po’s bsTan pa'i rnam bshad. 10 Starting roughly in the 18th c. AD, it coincides with or narrowly precedes the rise of the Ris med or impartial movement, mainly from within the Buddhist fold, notably the ‘Old Sect’ or rNying ma pa; cf. Gene Smith (2001). 128 HENK BLEZER on demand, at different points in time, when Bön traditions are or were in the process of formulating and restating their identity. Obviously, when Bönpos (re)define their identity, they at the same time also (re)define the ever shifting internal relevant divide between what is considered pure and authentic g-Yung drung bon and what is considered as ambivalent and deviating ‘New Treasure’, or later also ‘New Bön’; we will come back to that later. For a lucid discussion of the New Bön, see Jean-Luc Achard in this volume.

A PARADOX IN BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE?

From a thoroughly Buddhist early phyi dar matrix and possibly tantric antecedents from the preceding intermediate period (‘bar dar’), we see Bön emerge as a sustained discourse of ‘otherness’, voiced by self-consciously non-Buddhist interest groups vis-à-vis groups that are at least more explicitly Buddhist. “At least”, because Bön also appears a product of several centuries of experience with the earlier spread of Buddhism (snga dar), starting around the 7th c. AD; the intermediate period (‘bar dar’); and maybe even with pre- snga dar and—perhaps—Central Asian varieties of Buddhism. This holds true to such a degree in fact, that it would even be difficult to deny Bönpos their rightful heritage of snga dar and possibly preceding varieties of buddhisms (see the early theses on this topic by Snellgrove and Hoffmann). As Bön identity gradually takes shape in phyi dar Buddhist Tibet, we also discern a truly fascinating shadow play of often paradoxical internal and external Bönpo projections of their own varieties of ‘heterodoxy’. Bön, curiously, attempts to give birth to its own, ever shifting, independent, ideological centre by distancing itself from ad hoc-defined more ambivalent internal Bön ‘others’. As Bön defines its fundamentally ‘subaltern self’—which appears heterodox vis-à- vis Buddhism but central vis-à-vis itself—it gains momentum of ‘orthodoxy’ by splitting off ‘heterodox’ self-images. Like Baron von Münchhausen, Bönpos, by the rhetoric of their identity discourse, in their stories, accomplish the amazing feat of pulling themselves up by their own hair, out of the quicksand of eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ subaltern identity politics. Eventually, from this anti-syncretistic manoeuvre, some factions emerge spotlessly pure, in the shining attire of g-Yung drung bon ‘orthodoxy’. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 129

Bön, as a phyi dar alternative to Buddhism, insofar as it at least refers to a pre-Buddhist past, may appear a somewhat eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ movement—but then, obviously, we would have to redefine ‘syncretism’ according to local circumstance. To begin with, the historicity of the antecedents of Bön, which receive or ‘syncretise’ buddhisms, is problematic. Some tibetologists, such as Snellgrove and Kvaerne, have indeed cautiously preferred to use the qualification ‘heterodox’, in the sense implied above (but of course without the usual strong Catholic connotation). There certainly is something to recommend that doxological term, but one may doubt whether ‘religious doctrine’ really is the relevant divide that most broadly informs the dynamics of Bön identity discourse. This alternate, eclectic identity may have been a defining feature of Bön from its very inception. But, over the centuries, Bönpos managed to create a semblance of being carved, or rather reformed, out of a solid piece of Bön of ancient pedigree: pure, yet reformed, g-Yung drung bon. This they accomplish by projecting outward ambivalent Bönpo others and dis-identifying from those groups, which court Buddhist identity too overtly. Those internal ‘other’ Bönpo eclectics are branded ‘New’ (read: less old or authentic) innovators; they very much look like scapegoats from within the Bön fold who openly transgress the unwritten code of Bön ‘otherness’. Yet, paradoxically, those more openly eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ groups do not go about their Bön business fundamentally differently from the way that Bönpos have been doing all along, ever since their earliest historical records!

ANNE-MARIE BLONDEAU ON BSGRAGS PA BON

For ambivalent tendencies in Bön we have to turn to Anne-Marie Blondeau’s work, sustained for many decades, on Padmasambhava legends (see bibliography). Perhaps early Bön eclectic tendencies were—at least since the 14th c. AD—indeed called gTer gsar by Bönpos and some of that may, as she argues, by Buddhists have been called ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’. She speculates about the possible meaning and implication of the term ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’, as it appears, inter alia, in the well-known triad: 130 HENK BLEZER

1. bsgrags pa bon lugs (Manner of ‘bsGrags pa Bon’), 2. gsang ba chos lugs (Secret Manner of the Dharma or Buddhism), 3. yang gsang mu stegs lugs (Ultra Secret Manner of Tīrthika-s or ‘Heretics’11). Blondeau asks whether we may have to postulate a separate (b)sgrags pa-genre of texts12 and suggests that bsgrags byang thus might be read as a systematic technical term,13 in an analogous and perhaps even complementary way to the term kha byang in gter ma literature (1990:42).14 She convincingly relates bsGrags pa gling grags texts to the historical rMa ston lineage and associated ambivalent treasure finders (gter ston). This is all the more interesting since the bsgrags pa identifier in some titles of the bsGrags pa gling grags historical texts is not easily explained consistently otherwise. This chapter therefore is also offered as a humble tribute to Blondeau’s many years of outstanding scholarly achievement. Establishing a valid historical link between ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ and the bsGrags pa gling grags literature is a major prong of Blondeau’s (1990) argument. This seminal article deserves to be read together with earlier work (1985) on mKhyen brtse dbang po (1820– 92). Her arguments and speculations on ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ were in fact born out of the question why mKhyen brtse dbang po chose to style his Bön biography of Padmasambhava bon lugs ltar bstan pa. Blondeau identifies several ambivalent themes in that supposed (bsGrags pa) bon lugs tradition:

11 A translation term inherited from Indian Buddhists, designating non-Buddhist groups in India. 12 Blondeau (1985 & 1990); references in 1990:37, on the bKa' thang. 13 There might thus be systematic complementarities between the Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang, a later, 14th c. AD historical source that heavily depends on the Gling grags cluster, and the *Srid pa rgyud kyi (b)sgrag(s) byang. A *Srid pa rgyud kyi sgrag (sic!) byang chen mo, supposedly also a gter ma discovered by Gyer thogs med (14th c. AD), is indeed mentioned in the Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang (see p.498.4 of the bsGrags byang edition in the Bön bKa' brten ‘III’). But, as far as I am aware, a sGrag byang chen mo presently is not extant. 14 These are technical terms. The kha byang is a lists pertaining to gter ma-s found; gter ma are presumably concealed and later recovered objects, more often than not religious texts. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 131

1. Ambivalent tendencies, epitomised by the construct 'chi med yab sras gsum.15 2. A different take on the origins of gNya' khri btsan po, the mythic first Tibetan Emperor (descent from the srid pa'i lha, gods of existence, rather than from Indian royalty, as in Buddhism). This really needs to be looked into together with the former, as these stories may come from the same workshop.16 3. The ubiquitous presence, in the immediate environment of these narrative constructs, of rMa family teachers and their students. Blondeau (1990) identifies the earliest Buddhist references to a ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ in writings attributed to Gu ru chos dbang and Nyang ral Nyi ma 'od zer (12th c. AD), several centuries earlier than those known from the bKa' thang sde lnga (14th c. AD). This already puts us back into the beginning centuries of the phyi dar! Blondeau then evaluates affirmatively Hoffmann’s tentative identification of the term bsgrags pa in that presumably Buddhist classification ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ as a reference to a text that is briefly known as bsGrags byang (by its margin title). Both thus select the first element in the title bsGrags pa (rin chen) gling grags instead of focusing on the last element: grags, “famous, well known, or popular”, as do Tucci (1949) and Haarh (1969). Among two other versions, she tentatively identifies the bsGrags byang as the Oslo MS of the bsGrags pa gling grags (p.42). She locates the supposed ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’-marker of divine descent of gNya' khri btsan po in this cluster of texts and manages to connect that convincingly to the rMa ston lineage. Please note that those Gling grags narratives certainly are not marginal and eccentric oddities in the Bön canon; they are in fact of crucial importance and rank among the oldest Bön historical sources and inform many important Bön historical works. However tentative or speculative, considerable weight of evidence has been gathered. It is evident throughout Blondeau’s analyses that there are crucial and clear indicators of ambivalence, eclecticism, or, if one prefers: of ‘syncretism’. This is particularly evident in her

15 I.e., the Immortal Trio: father, Dran pa nam mkha', and sons, Tshe dbang rig 'dzin and Padma mthong grol—i.e., Padmasambhava, the Buddhist culture hero of the rNying ma pa or Old Sect. 16 This includes also different takes on the stories of lHa tho tho ri gnyan btsan, etc. 132 HENK BLEZER research thread on so-called ambivalent treasure discoverers (gter ston). What is even more striking, perhaps, is the real possibility of an early date for those somewhat eclectic beginnings: perhaps even at the beginning of the 12th c. AD or possibly earlier still?17 Exactly how far it goes back and how important for the early formation of Bön it is, remains to be seen. Also the scope and ubiquity of early Bön ‘syncretism’ is surprising perhaps. It even touches entirely unsuspected individuals, such as 'A zha 'Gro mgon Blo gros rgyal mtshan (1198–1263)—whose writings have been included in the sMan ri yig cha and who is now generally regarded as a firm pillar of sMan ri orthodoxy—and also various other famous figures from the 'Bru and sPa families. The bsGrags pa lugs—if there ever was one— permeates many and perhaps even most quarters of otherwise ‘unsuspected’ Bönpo lineages and literature. This makes one really wonder about the actual doctrinal constitution of emerging Bön.

WORKING HYPOTHESES

Inspired by Blondeau’s work and in an attempt to continue some of her more speculative ‘conclusions’, I here formulate a number of working hypotheses:

17 Transmission list, adapted from Blondeau (Annuaire 1982f:129f): starting with: Gyer mi nyi 'od, who was born in 1108 and considered himself an incarnation of the equally ambivalent Bön-Buddhist Vairocana, and claimed oral transmission form Dran pa nam mkha' (for further reference, see Achard, in this volume, p.82): rMa ston srid 'dzin, who was born in 1092 AD; continuing through the latter’s son: rMa ston lcam me (12th c. AD?) and again through the latter’s son: rMa ston shes rab seng ge, who may have lived at around the 12th c. AD (see Karmay 1977) and who discovered prophecies of Dran pa nam mkha' and Vairocana (also a well known ambivalent figure, at least in legends), but also biographies of Dran pa nam mkha' having Padmasambhava as a son: the mentioned 'chi med yab sras gsum theme; and again through the latter’s disciple: dByil ston dPon gsas Khyung rgod rtsal, who, according to mKhan chen nyi ma bstan 'dzin’s 19th c. AD bsTan rtsis (Kvaerne 1971) was born in 1175; he discovered Buddhist and Bön texts, inter alia, a biography of Dran pa nam mkha' and Padmasambhava. In this lineage we also find: 'A zha Blo gros rgyal mtshan (bsTan rtsis: 1198– 1263) and Khos po Blo gros thogs med, who discovered the said Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang in 1310 (bsTan rtsis), which, as said, is informed by bsGrags byang narratives. These men presently are considered firm pillars of Bön ‘orthodoxy’. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 133

1 a) There is an early, somewhat eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ Bön literature (starting the early 12th c. AD or before) that tradition usually attributes to ambivalent figures or culture types, such as Dran pa'i nam mkha' and Tshe dbang rig 'dzin. b) Please note that this thesis may be reversed. Texts featuring names of such ‘ambivalent’ figures are likely to pertain to such eclectic traditions. c) These texts typically (but not always) contain references to one or more special, ‘deviating’ narratives, such as those on the 'chi med yab sras gsum (the Immortal Trio, father & sons) or the divine origins of the mythic first emperor, gNya' khri btsan po. d) The antecedents for those narrative materials (and their early ritual contexts) may be older, e.g., the gNya' khri btsan po myth of divine descent is already attested in Dunhuang PT1286:30ff. e) Careful comparison of narratives of that ilk, preferably in relation to historical transmission lineages, will yield important information on the history of Bön ideas and texts, and bear significantly on the earliest history of Bön as we know it now. 2 During the first centuries of the second millennium AD, these somewhat eccentric narrative traditions passed into literary form at the hands of the rMa clan and were transmitted through dByil ston Khyung rgod rtsal and other ambivalent gter ston. 3 The rMa gter ston group may be connected to the rMa cluster of names of Dunhuang sources, which sits at the earliest discernible narrated centre of a founder & heartland of Bön.18 4 a) From the 12th century onward, Buddhists such as Gu ru chos dbang and Nyang ral nyi ma 'od zer, but also O rgyan gling of the bKa' thang literature pa or earlier gter ston, have identified this tradition as: ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’. b) At least since the 14th c. AD (sPa bstun, n.9, above), Bönpos call such ambivalent somewhat eclectic tendencies gTer gsar. c) The need to characterise internal others as gTer gsar, and one- self implicitly as g-Yung drung bon, may relate to the rise of importance of monastic institutions, their curricula, and canonisa- tion in Tibet, at and shortly before the 14th c. AD.

18 See Blezer on rma in ‘Location’ (forthc.), in the Emerging Religions companion volume (forthc.), and Blezer 2011a, Myi yul skyi mthing. 134 HENK BLEZER

d) Cf. also the rise of eclectic Bon gsar trends, starting later, in the 18th c. AD. 5 a) The name for ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ derives from the (b)sGrags byang, i.e., the Bon chos dar nub gyi lo rgyus grags pa rin chen gling grags. b) The (b)sGrags byang has informed most other Bön historical texts, e.g., the Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang, the Gling bzhi bstan pa'i 'byung khungs, etc. 6 a) In Bön tradition, Dran pa'i nam mkha' is a fictive figure, who is indicative of an eclectic type of ambivalence and his character is clearly calqued on the tantric Padmasambhava type (the name perhaps even derives from the latter’s entourage). b) His presence reveals early exchanges with rNying ma discourse, their Padmasambhava traditions, and the connected gter ma developments. c) In fact, the rise to prominence of Dran pa'i nam mkha' in Bön may be directly linked to the emergence of Bön as a somewhat eclectic, ‘syncretistic’ movement. 7 The Buddhist Padmasambhava and the Bön 'chi med yab sras gsum together with the Buddha legend have at least formatted, if not sparked off, the expanded ‘sTon pa’ gShen rab narratives, resulting in an extended period of exchange, assimilation and adjustment of widely diverse narratives, starting from Dunhuang and Klu 'bum-type basic paradigms (see Blezer 2008a, RET 15). 8 Possibly eclectic tendencies of bsGrags pa-type movements likewise may have formatted, or even have sparked off, the very emergence of a self-conscious Bön tradition at the beginning of the second millennium AD. What we now know as Bön may find its first organised origins precisely in the early movements that, with hindsight and in view of a perhaps merely ideological claim to purity, might be labelled as ambivalent, eclectic, assimilative or ‘syncretistic’ (but the latter, to some no doubt, must appear as a stale spectre from a distant anthropological past). 9 g-Yung drung bon therefore may be a mostly ideological and rhetorical entity, an effort to divorce Bön from its more evident eclectic and ‘syncretistic’ origins. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 135

These hypotheses will be tested in future work on Bön sources that, in various ways, involve Dran pa'i nam mkha', Tshe dbang rig 'dzin, the Padmasambhava-type, and of course, that intriguing rMa group and its later ambivalent gter ma lineage and their deviating origin narratives. This is not feasible within the limited framework of this article. We also need to look further into the literary production and custody of the rMa clan and see what texts and transmissions they are connected to. As we shall see below, the fact that the evidence for a central Tibetan location of a Bön heartland (avant la lettre) called sKyi mthing also hinges on that intriguing rma/smra/sma cluster of names can hardly be coincidental.

BÖN SMRA/RMA/SMA ANCESTRY AND RMA FAMILY ECLECTICISM

Elsewhere, I have shown that the sMra/rMa/sMa name appears at the core of the earliest traceable developments of gShen rabs narratives in Dunhuang sources and of a loose cluster of the earliest narratives on a heartland of Bön (Blezer 2011a, Myi yul skyi mthing). Blondeau has shown that a rMa name also is closely connected with early and central Bön historical identity narratives in the Gling grags cluster of texts. These texts, as said, are somewhat ambivalent and eclectic and clearly and consciously negotiate Buddhist heritage of Bön. Very revealing in this regard is the section on the gTsug lag srid pa'i bu bzhi: dPyad bu khri shes, gTo bu 'bum gsangs, Ha shang Kong tse, but also Shakya thub pa: the Buddha (Dolanji MS, p.34ff.), an incarnation of Dam pa tog dkar. Chös is clearly portrayed as beneficial and in any case as an acceptable form, a transformation in fact, of Bön. This is true to a degree that the conclusion of that section states that nobody can fault either Bön or Chös, because Bön and Chös are not separate, they are in fact one in essence or meaning; they simply are two entirely acceptable parts of the doctrine of gShen rabs, one on the rise (Chös, Buddhism), one on the decline (Bön).19

19 The Dolanji MS by Khedup Gyatso, p.44.1: ... ([the preceding part features a long list of teachings that purportedly were transformed from Bön into chos— according to a Nakchu MS this was done by 'Gu ru (Padmasambhava) 'Bho te sa ta (Bodhisattva); this section ends with] ... shes rab [emend: gshen rab] kyi bstan pa de nyid bskyang / gcig stong yang gcig dar ba'i tshul gyis 'gro ba 'dren no/) dus phyi ma la lan cig tsam na/ gang zag la la zhig na re/ g-yung drung bon gyi bstan pa 'di

136 HENK BLEZER

This passage may help to illustrate the eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ sensibilities that the rMa family operates from. A resounding name from the rMa clan, rMa ston srid 'dzin (born 1092 AD), whom we find at the very head of the phyi dar rMa ston lineage (he was a direct disciple of Gyer mi nyi 'od, born in 1108), also appears associated with another major prop of Bön identity, the Srid pa'i mdzod phug, the most authoritative incorporation of Bud- dhist Abhidharma into Bön. The rMa group, once again, appears at the hub of Bönpo efforts to accommodate and define themselves vis- à-vis Buddhism, at the beginning of the second millennium AD. I do not intend that in an exclusive way of course, to the detriment of other looming figures and clans, such as, gShen chen klu dga' (see Martin 1994), who claims gShen heritage, I merely wish to point out that rMa folks were at the heart of eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ realities of Bön, even spinning that vision into the first, and later widely accepted, Bön historical narratives; narratives that cannot be ignored, not even by the staunchest of critics of so-called gSar bon.

BÖN: A SUBALTERN TRADITION OF ‘OTHERNESS’?

Following these leads, we should seriously consider that eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ traditions such as transmitted and cultivated in the rMa family are much closer to the doctrinal and cultural centre of arising Bön than generally has been assumed. rMa groups may thus be caus- ally related to early recorded traces of organised Bön (or Bön that was organising itself). Early self-consciously Bön narratives may moreover draw from older rMa, sMa, and sMra family narratives, as they presently still are reflected in Dunhuang sources. In the positioning and religious-political tug of war of following centuries about what is perceived as Buddhism and (g-Yung drung) Bon, rMa groups may gradually have been relegated to a ‘syncretistic’ margin, while ideologically more pure-sounding gShen and dMu names and mi bden te log pa'o zhes zer ba la/ la la na re dam pa chos kyi bstan pa 'di mi bden de log pa'o zhes zer ba 'byung ste/ bon chos so so ma yin don la gcig shes kun bsdebs pa bdud kyis bslus pa'i rigs can te/ don du bstan pa'i bu bzhi yang / don dam par ma 'dres par spyad pas/ yang dag pa'i don la byang chub pa'o/ (de yang ston pa gshen rab kyi bstan pa 'di gang tsam du gnas na/ lnga brgya phrag bco brgyad du gnas na/ ... [continuing on the duration of the doctrine]). THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 137 the concomitant clans—or those who claimed these names for their pedigree and interests—including tropes on far western origins, were promoted instead. We should consider this shift in light of the specific historiographical configuration of Bön, which appears a discourse of subaltern and respectably ancient ‘otherness’. Perhaps, over time, this position even constitutes a major constant in Bön discourse, one which proves more durable than any of its more contingent, change- able, relatively specific doctrines. Narratives change, but the narrated position of ‘otherness’ remains. To clarify this, a few more words on the consequences of possibly early Bön eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ tendencies for Bön identity discourse:

20 ‘OLD’ & ‘NEW’ STYLES OF IDENTITY DISCOURSE: ‘NATIVISM’?

In the early phyi dar, reformed gSar ma pa-s or ‘neo-Buddhists’ and their powerful supporters set the agendas with their refurbished ‘authentic origins in sacred India’ rhetoric. We should not lose sight of the fact that emerging narratives of the gSar ma and rNying ma (or Old Sect—who are only retrospectively so called but in fact arise later, be it based on pre-existing lineages etc. of tantric practitioners, reactively to gSar ma), but also Bön identity narratives develop roughly simultaneously, in an environment in which prevailing gSar ma factions are claiming their stakes. Both rNying ma pa-s and Bon po-s, each in their own way, demonstrably are reactive to gSar ma agendas and each display their own mix of emulation, differentiation and polarisation. Both rNying ma pa-s and Bon po-s in their identity discourse, in a ‘nativist’ bid, strategically refer to earlier antecedents: rNying ma: “we are the true inheritors of early diffusion or snga dar Buddhism” and Bön: “only we are the true custodians of indigenous Tibetan culture”. While snga dar Buddhist inheritance in the self- descriptions of phyi dar Bönpos, obviously, remains underexposed (if not anathema), otherwise this legacy is in many ways obvious for Bön as well: such as in Bön monasticism and its largely fictitious early 'dul ba (vinaya) lineages.

20 I am greatly indebted to Rob Mayer for discussing the section on snga dar and phyi dar Buddhism in light of his work on continuities of rNying ma and possibly Bön materials from the intermediate period, here conveniently styled ‘bar dar’. 138 HENK BLEZER

We should of course also question the facile manner in which so much of imperial Tibetan culture is swept under the convenient rug of ‘Buddhism’. This is a left-over or artefact from post-imperial, phyi dar Buddhist historical sensibilities, also echoing in academia. But at this point even the very nature and content of imperial period ‘buddhisms’ and culture may still need clarification. There is a tenacious tendency in both traditional and academic history writing to view earlier periods from phyi dar Buddhist historiographical sensibilities and systematically to neglect underlying agendas: such as, mainly, retrospectively to construct a grand success story of Bud- dhist origins and to hypostasise implied indigenous opposition, including a convenient monolithic opponent, Bön. When projecting Buddhist identity, co-emergent with that project, a non-Buddhist alter or ‘other’ is created as well. Later Bön was an obvious choice and in due course this antagonism was anachronistically projected back into the imperial period, nunc pro tunc (cf. now Walter 2009). We should keep in mind that the oldest imperial-period Buddhist historical sources, such as for instance reflected in the bSam yas inscription (in the form in which it is preserved in the mid-16th- century mKhas pa'i dga' ston) are conspicuously silent about that Bön ‘other’, which later sources would like to make us belief was such a formidable opponent and such a terrible nuisance to early Buddhists in Tibet—most telling indeed.21 Imperial period Bön looks like a later historiographical construct that therefore cannot but be conspicuously absent from roughly contemporaneous sources. In the imperial period, Buddhism and perhaps what later fed into Bön seems to have been part of a craquelé of variously configured and identity-wise probably relatively undifferentiated Buddhist—and with hindsight perhaps also some not so Buddhist—religious sub- discourses, which were less dichotomised and more inclusive than they later, starting in phyi dar Tibet, were imagined to have been. The phyi dar was a time when the first sects started to arise, compete

21 Beckwith, in PIATS 2006: “The Old Tibetan sources that clearly refer to non- Buddhist people or beliefs—e.g., the full-text version of the bSam yas inscription proclaiming the official support of Buddhism, which is preserved in the Mkhas pa’i dga’ ston—mention myi chos, literally ‘folk religion’, but Bön is conspicuous by complete absence. It is also not mentioned in connection with the Rebellion of 755, where in late (phyi dar) histories a Bön-chos conflict is said to have been the issue (see Beckwith 1983)”. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 139 and spin their increasingly distinctive identity discourses. Bön was just another one of those arising sects in that phyi dar Buddhist- dominated milieu, a self-conscious alternative to new gSar ma and newly formatted ‘old’ or rNying ma styles of Buddhism (but, again, probably based on various pre-existing tantric lineage identities). I therefore hesitate to refer to Bönpo (or Buddhist) snga dar inheritance, and clearly not only because reference to Bön in that period is problematic (to say the least), but also because the category ‘Buddhist’ in that period is highly problematic. It is easy to fall prey to facile dichotomies. For instance, in imperial period habitats, someone from a non-Buddhist environment desiring the occupational niche of a monk probably would become a Buddhist monk: with emphasis on “monk” rather than on “Buddhist”. Thus, monasticism, in the early period, may very much have been a shared phenomenon. Whoever desired to become a monk would do so in Buddhist tradition; whether he came from a Buddhist family or not. Later, self- consciously non-Buddhist interest groups—say: early Bönpos— therefore rightfully viewed parts of the early phases of Tibetan monasticism as their own heritage. Problems only started arising when this shared heritage eventually had to be rephrased in terms of ab origino separate Bön identity. The rest is history: nunc pro tunc invented Bön 'dul ba lineages, which lavishly copy names and narratives from Buddhist discourse and dissimilate those into hardly credible separate lineages (see Kalsang Norbu 2011a). Bönpos, eager to stand apart, chose to put their wagers on the fictional horse of an earlier diffusion of Bön, which ended with Gri gum btsan po’s presumed first persecution, and on an obscure ritual specialist called gShen rabs, rather than acknowledge in a straightforward manner that they are legitimate heirs of early Tibetan Buddhist traditions as well as of other Tibetan cultural strata (as are still reflected in Bön literatures and some non-Buddhist Dun- huang sources). That ‘first persecution’ clearly is cloned on narratives on a persecution (also merely presumed) during Khri Srong lde'u btsan’s reign.22 It is a persecution of Bön self-consciously visualised earlier, which, in obvious one-upmanship, eventually mimics the end of the Buddhist snga dar and boasts a much earlier

22 See Karmay (1972:xxxiii, and Blondeau) for deconstruction of the latter. 140 HENK BLEZER

Bön snga dar. In that manoeuvre, phyi dar Bönpos unwittingly fore- sake more credible claims to snga dar (or ‘bar dar’) (Buddhist) monastic heritage and initiated a paradoxical identity discourse.

BÖN AND PRE-SNGA DAR CENTRAL ASIAN BUDDHISM

Elsewhere,23 I engaged the historiography of Bön origin narratives. The resulting doubts regarding the historicity of genuinely ancient occidental origins for Bön also put the rather plausible-looking ‘Snellgrove heterodox Buddhism variety of Bön history of ideas’ in a different light.24 Snellgrove, to my knowledge, was the first to publicise in a clear and articulate manner the thesis that Bön might be a pre-snga dar, more or less ‘self-forgotten’ form of Central Asian Buddhism, and thus have crypto-Buddhist origins. Dan Martin (1991, 1994 & 2001) and Beckwith (2007) both follow his thesis to some extent, each with modifications. Disregarding all the varying interpretations, this may indeed appear a plausible working hypothesis. On closer examination, however, it is predicated on a specific historiographical approach to Bön that may be dated. The hypothesis is based on the assumption that later Bön and Buddhist religious historical narratives, while perhaps not literally true, still, to a significant degree must refer to historical and geographical realities; as if they were failed histories. But, as works of historical fiction, religious histories fundamentally are composed of narratives in which the conveyance of facts is subordinated to the expression of particular structures and potentials for meaning. Already in earlier work on the history of doctrinal ideas (Blezer 2011c, The Bon of Bon), but increasingly so during the Three Pillars program, I couldn’t help but notice that Bön and Buddhist religious historical sources to a much more significant degree than I had expected are self-referential, more than that they actually refer to realities out there in space and time. By “self-referential”, I mean that references are to be understood mainly from the discourse, interest groups, and time and place that the texts are written from; in

23 See Blezer on rma in ‘Location’ (forthc.), in the Emerging Religions companion volume (forthc.), and Blezer 2011a, Myi yul skyi mthing. 24 See Snellgrove (1967:15) and more elaborately (1987), p.390f. and 399ff. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 141 the case of emerging Bön from ‘subaltern’, early phyi dar sensibilities, reactive to Buddhism. The master narratives that meet us in later sources on earlier periods are best understood from the dialogues of their native milieus of the 10th–11th century AD onward. They are self-consciously construed from bits and pieces of ‘knowledge of earlier periods’ that partly may have migrated in collective memory and partly may also have been (re)invented, and that, in their (new) narrative configurations, first and foremost pertain to that same early phyi dar period and not to the earlier periods they purport to refer to. This is significant for appreciating the next argument. On many occasions this approach or these starting hypotheses and assumptions may produce a Gestalt switch, which makes certain old ‘issues’ suddenly appear less relevant. My main proposition for adjustment here is that for understanding emerging Bön, it is not necessary to posit the historiographical assumptions that Snellgrove (and also Martin and Beckwith) implicitly do and to keep making allowances for a carry-over of possibly early imperial or even older antecedents that locate the centre of gravity (or of relevance even) of Bön—geographically, doctrinally etc.— outside the actual place and period of formation of Bön. Snellgrove, Martin and Beckwith, each in their own way, have wisely abandoned as groundless the old traditionalist master narrative of a straightforward continuity of Bön from the imperial period, but they still look for possible earlier antecedents that set Bön apart from the main arising Buddhist sects. If one feels inclined to accept, as they all do in some way or other, that Bön essentially is conversant with (a universalist variety of) Buddhism and if one is willing to consider that it perhaps is ‘old’—maybe not as old as claimed but nonetheless older than Buddhism in Tibet—then it is tempting indeed to conclude that Bön must be a different and preferably also earlier kind of Buddhism, so an early, heterodox variety Buddhism. That is why theses of that ilk sound so plausible. I nonetheless harbour doubts, for the very simple reason that the early material that I study and its history of ideas do not force me to posit that extra assumption. In fact, even though it may sound plausible, I have not encountered any data yet that would help me argue for or against such a thesis. Instead, I choose to refocus more radically to the period of the actual historical origins of Bön, the early phyi dar (or shortly before), for which we do have sources. 142 HENK BLEZER

There it appears as one of the many sects that arise, but one that arises reactively to gSar ma successes and therefore, contrary to its master narratives, even appears relatively late on the scene. Quite similar cultural dynamics are observable in the formation of the rNying ma pa-s, as self-conscious religious groups, which, in spite of their name and claims, as an overarching, organised group, also arise reactively to and later than the first organised gSar ma pa-s (probably from pre-existing tantric identities in the period between the snga dar and phyi dar, say: the intermediate period or ‘bar dar’). At that relatively late point in time (i.e., the early phyi dar) one would be hard-pressed to establish whether the Bön variety of Tibetan religious culture would be more significantly of snga dar or of pre-snga dar (say: Central Asian) signature. Phyi dar Bön moreover is largely Buddhist in outlook, so why speak about ‘syncretism’ at all; at best it is ‘syncretism’ with hindsight. Without access to relevant early sources, how could one tell? Insistence on earlier antecedents has yielded interesting hypotheses that inherently cannot be tested, at best. What we can look into, is how Bön’s emergence is reflected in early sources and how it was formatted in the early Buddhist phyi dar (with possible roots in the intermediate period). We are in the fortunate position that we can still trace that emerging dialogue from roughly contemporaneous Bön and Buddhist sources.

THE MIMICRY OF THE YOUNGER OLD ONES

The overall historical timeframe for the development of Bön in Tibet and the clear alignment that Bön historical constructs show with the rhetoric of legitimisation of religious authority in competing gSar ma Buddhist narrativisations on and from the early phyi dar, implicitly gives away the time of invention of Bön origins. Closely linked with the second diffusion of Buddhism in Tibet (starting 10th–11th c. AD), an internal Buddhist apologetic discourse develops that is concerned with authentic Indian origins for the newly imported teachings. Indian origins soon become thematic, distinguishing renewed import of Indian Buddhism from what was left over from earlier spread of Buddhism into Tibet (7th–9th c. AD) and, more in particular, form a relevant divide with what had developed in Tibet during the absence of imperial control, after the collapse of the empire in the mid-ninth century, the mentioned intermediate period or ‘bar dar’. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 143

Arising ‘new’ Buddhist sects stood apart from the ‘old ones’25— which, as said, as ‘old ones’ were equally new or in fact even newer to arise, be it probably from a matrix of ‘bar dar’ tantric lineages. Authentic Indian origins are ‘proven’ by transliterated Sanskrit titles supposedly ‘retained’ in Tibetan translations as a seal of authenticity. As a result of this collective fixation of Tibetan neo-Buddhists on Indian origins, the custom of adding Sanskrit titles, also for indigenous Tibetan writing, continues to this very day. Bön narratives are construed in parallel manner but are more difficult to trace in historical fact. Bön teachings are said to have entered mostly through western quarters, via Zhang zhung, and are often said to have been translated from Zhang zhung language(s). All this supposedly is also ‘still’ visible in Zhang zhung source-titles of Bön texts, but also in a bilingual text (mDzod phug), glossaries, ritual utterances, etc., which usually are not translated, just like in Buddhist texts dhāra7ī-s and mantra-s in Sanskrit are merely transliterated. Different from Buddhist narratives, however, is the timeframe. In the case of Zhang zhung, as with the construction of a Bön snga dar, dates reach further back in time, self-consciously going beyond Buddhist origins. The historicity of Bön referents remains obscure, however. This indicates that these Bön narratives emerged reactively, as a response to Buddhist discourse, mimicing Buddhist early second diffusion rhetoric. Thus they carry the unmistakable imprint of the intellectual milieu of the phyi dar. The mimicry is pushed to the point of internal contradiction. The parallel derivation of Bön from ultimately non-Tibetan regions west of Zhang zhung, appears side by side with rhetoric of indigenous origins: they are more indigenous ... There is a close proximity in paradigm of identity narratives for the two groups that claim to be older than the gSar ma pa-s: the rNying ma or Old Sect and Bön. Both reveal a comparable appropriation and reinvention of earlier origins. Also otherwise the similarities between these two groups are very obvious and too numerous to list: e.g., the great importance of the legendary Padmasambhava and Dran pa nam mkha'-type of charismatic and powerful tantric masters; the crucial importance of gter ma-style literary production and

25 Hence also the rationale of the Buddhist variety of the gNya' khri btsan po myth: this version weaves derivation from Indian royalty into the narrative. 144 HENK BLEZER legitimisation for establishing a distinctive canon; the overarching philosophical apex of Great Perfection literature and its primordially ‘self-liberated’ (rang grol) rhetoric; prominent expertise on death ritual; etc. rNying ma pa-s and Bönpos thus resemble each other more than any of the gSar ma pa-s (or, perhaps, than some gSar ma pa-s resemble each other); that should issue a sharp wake-up call. Bönpo identity narratives evidently start in the early phyi dar (or possibly, like the rNying ma, partially, already earlier) and develop in a force field of two other major clusters of founding narratives. First and foremost gSar ma Buddha legends, for example as narrated in the Lalitavistara: a major pillar of Buddhist identity; but also narratives on the two main transmissions of Buddhism to Tibet (snga dar and phyi dar, so often invoked here); and narratives on Tibet’s golden age of the ‘religious’ Emperors. Much of those also legitimise the growing Tibetan canon of translated texts and all of this is clearly viewed through early phyi dar sensibilities. Another major strand is the rNying ma cluster of Padmasambhava legends. Their alternative or second Buddha plays a crucial role in legitimising their claimed snga dar heritage and its indigenous accretions, and particularly their extensive gter ma-based canons. He also helps tie all this into the prestige of Tibet’s golden age, as a different complement to a major prong of gSar ma narratives. Typologically, Bön identity strategies appear a variant of the rNying ma ones: another, self-consciously more indigenous and older, alternative to gSar ma rhetoric; it shows many similar features in the way it positions its founder, for Bön not just a second Buddha, but—as Dan Martin on several occasions aptly put it—wielding the rhetoric evocative of a ‘Universal Buddha’, and ... he is older, much older! Bön engages a very similar strategy for authenticating a late canon mainly based on gter ma revelations—but (probably rightfully) claims to have those earlier. Bön also reveals quite comparable realities on the ground: it occupies and competes in very similar social-religious niches. And, both these old, ‘nativist’ strategies of legitimisation are clearly reactive to gSar ma rhetoric. Legends of the Bön founder developed in mutual exchange with developing Padmasambhava legends. Reference to the latter already occurs in Dunhuang sources and in an early biography by Nyang ral nyi ma 'od zer (1124/36–1192/1204). The intertextuality with the gZer myig, the medium length hagiography of sTon pa gShen rab, mainly is with relatively late bKa' thang literature on Padmasambhva THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 145

(discovered by O rgyan gling pa, in the 14th c. AD); with the bKa' thang apparently being on the receiving end.26 While the gZer myig seems to be conversant with (and to inform) the Padmasambhava strand, the mDo 'dus, the shorter ‘hagiography’ of the founder of Bön—generally presumed to be older than the gZer myig—relies heavily on Buddha narratives such as from a Lalita- vistara-like text (see Kalsang Norbu, Ph.D. thesis). If the mDo 'dus mainly engages topics central to gSar ma discourse (Buddha legends) and the gZer myig resonates better with later rNying ma discourse, a very interesting divergence becomes visible: while early Bön and rNying ma discourses were mainly reactive to those of the gSar ma pa-s, later, more developed Bön discourses instead seems to have been more exclusively oriented toward rNying ma sensibilities and vice versa. Shared Bön and rNying ma legitimisation strategies, particularly where they are both geared toward authentication of gter ma traditions an indigenous production, may have tied their narrative fates closely together with the Padmasambhava paradigm. Based on this survey, one may even surmise that, since the early phyi dar, the markets or niches for old and new Tibetan buddhisms may slowly have drifted apart. In view of developing gSar ma sensibilities and polemics, the specifically urgent need for Bön gter ma legitimisation strategies may perhaps also have been more prominent at the time of composition of the gZer myig than in the early phyi dar, which, most likely, was the period of the early formation of the mDo 'dus. This also supports their present relative chronology (see Blezer 2010, William of Ockham, and Kalsang Norbu 2011b). Later, phyi dar sTon pa gshen rab narratives are primarily grafted on brief narratives on a (Pha) gShen rab(s) (kyi) myi bo that we find reflected in Dunhuang texts (Blezer 2008a, RET 15) and combine those, eclectically, with the greatest hits from gSar ma Buddha legends, from a Lalitavistara-like, translated text, and with rNying ma pa Padmasambhava legends. Thus they incorporate major themes from the main identity narratives around, so: both budding rNying ma and gSar ma!—but not to the same degree in all texts—and in the approximate form that these competing narratives and legitimating strategies had at the time. The narratives are grafted on conveniently

26 Blondeau 1971; but cf. Hoffmann 1956. 146 HENK BLEZER vague names and narremes from earlier periods, such as the priestly gShen rab(s) figure, but also many other non-Buddhist-sounding names were recycled from then extant narrative traditions (as still reflected in Dunhuang sources), in truly fascinating manner. We already saw that early histories of Bön involve Dran pa nam mkha' in a prominent role, similar to the crucial nexus of Padma- sambhava in rNying ma narratives. From the very start, Dran pa nam mkha' more clearly and more exclusively appears a story character, which may pertain specifically to narratives that reveal a somewhat eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ milieu, a bit like that other famous, but more likely historical, rDzogs chen champion, Vairocana, who is equally ambivalent in character. Early Bön historiography put a conveniently different spin on the Khri Srong lde'u btsan, Bodhisattva aka Śāntarakṣita, and Padma- sambhava cluster of narratives and on other, related story elements as well, which demonstrably appear spun from a somewhat differently strung appearance in the sBa bzhed or a similar text.27 Constructions of that ilk may be the privileged domain of the elusive ‘bsGrags pa bon lugs’ and of that rMa group of gter ston or treasure revealers. This forces us to reconsider received wisdom about ‘pure’ Bön origins. g-Yung drung bon may be an a-historical ideological stance of later Bön factions, which they customarily put on when they engage in identity politics, for concealing evident eclectic realities.

27 sBa bzhed, Stein 1961 (14th c. AD MS), 20.8ff: gsal snang gi mang yul du phyin tsa nab ho dhi sa tvas/ 'dzam bu gling na mthu' che ba'i dge long padma sambha va dang / lha khang rtsig pa'i phya [phyva] mkhan dang! gsum rtogs nas 'dug- /der mang yul nas rdzing bcas nas chu klung la spyan drangs te/. But cf. dBa' bzhed, Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000 (>11th c. AD), 11r.1: bo dhi sa tvas pad ma sa bha ba bod yul du spyan drangs nas bzhes pa dang / bsam yas rmang rtsig pa dang lce ti sgo mangs rtsig pa'i phya [phyva] mkhan gsas snang gis rlungs la drangs nas gshegs par gsol ba dang /. I have no access to Gonpo Gyaltsen’s version (Beijing 1980, 12th c. AD?). For an incorporation of this narreme into later Padmasambhava hagiography see Ngawang Zangpo, Guru Rinpoché, Ithaca 2002:167: “Ba Sal-nong then went to Nepal to invite both masters [Bodhisattva and Padmasambhava]. At this point, The Testament of Ba records, ‘Three persons—Acharya Bodhisattva, Master Padmasambhava, and a capable temple-builder—had already prepared for their journey to Tibet. ...’”, on Taranatha’s professed preference for the sBa bzhed, cf. p.165f. Cf. also the narreme that Padmasambhava is already prepared and meets the invitation party on the way. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 147

G-YUNG DRUNG BON: TOUCHING STONE AND VANISHING POINT ON THE BÖN CANVAS

As discussed elsewhere,28 Bön identity is epitomised by the phrase g-yung drung bon, a term that has been in use since the earliest self- consciously Bön literature, such as the mentioned mDo 'dus and Klu 'bum. I will rephrase some relevant conclusions. The term g-yung drung already appears in eighth-century Tibetan inscriptions and early Buddhist translations. There g-yung drung signifies “eternal”, also in the sense of a permanent state of release, a nirvanic category, in a Buddhist context. Dunhuang sources confirm this usage. g-Yung drung in the mDo 'dus and Klu 'bum also mainly invokes the old sense of an exalted, if not transcendent state or realm. When Bön is distinguished from ‘Old’ and ‘unreformed’ Bön, such as it may still be preserved in Bön literature on lower vehicles, Bönpos retain a memory of early phyi dar Bön identity discourse. It is likely that the term g-yung drung bon in early Bön discourse was originally coined precisely to set it apart from this-worldly goals and apotropaic rites, later subsumed under ‘unreformed’ Bön. g-Yung drung bon sets itself apart as a reformed, nirvanic variety of Bön, which instead strives toward (a state of) release or liberation, characterised as g-yung drung. Needless to say, these goals accord well with phyi dar Buddhist sensibilities, distancing themselves from some non-monastic and apotropaic (‘bar dar’) practices. But it is significant that phyi dar Bönpos elected an old Buddhist translation term and one so obviously suggestive of much reviled eternalism (and probably for that very reason disabused in Tibetan Buddhist translations). In early contexts of use we therefore may have to translate g-Yung drung bon as ‘Nirvanic Bön’ and not ‘Eternal Bön’. Considering how Bön identity discourse deals with the inner constitution of bon ‘orthodoxy’, we have reason to believe that particularly later sectarian reference to g-Yung drung bon—as opposed to Bon gsar or gTer gsar (or, on the other end of the identity-scale: ‘Old Bön’)—is largely pious fiction, a vanishing point from which ab origino ambivalent traditions are redrawn as eternal and ‘pure’ g-Yung drung bon. The first historical formulations of Bön demon-

28 See Blezer 2008a, RET 15, pp.434–8 and 458–465. 148 HENK BLEZER strably emerge from a fundamentally eclectic environment and are conversant with Buddhism. Internally, all the rhetoric on g-Yung drung bon may therefore simply be a claim to authority, lodged for situational reasons, by factions with hegemonic ambitions or with an axe to grind. This definitely is a dialogic process, which means we should take into account the ‘other’ as an active and independent agent. Indeed, hypostasising g-Yung drung bon, while relaying the claimant to the centre of the ma78ala, at the same time provides a convenient and perhaps also necessary answer to the success of organised variants of so-called Bon gsar that, starting approximately the 18th century AD, began to stand out ever more conspicuously, especially in Eastern Tibetan regions. As is well known, these eastern regions were groaning at the time under increasing dGe lugs pa proselytising pressures. Probably for this reason, Bon gsar trends also resonate well with eclectic and revivalist Ris med traditions, which mainly issued forth from the rNying ma fold. Later Bon gsar explicitly claims continuity with earlier eclectic— bsGrags pa-type?—traditions, such as were transmitted by the rMa clan and that later were considered ambivalent. Nowadays, when those who feel responsible for safe-guarding g-Yung drung bon purity refer to ‘Pure, orthodox g-Yung drung bon’ as opposed to ‘deviating, heterodox Bon gsar’, if anything, they may invoke a mere abstraction, a fictive and a-historical reference point, rather than a concrete and well-defined body of literature and cultural practices, free from admixtures. Perhaps this viewpoint also necessarily ‘emerges’ when formulating a separate identity in a fundamentally ambivalent environment. This may have relevance beyond the particular case of Bön.

G-YUNG DRUNG BON & EARLY AMBIVALENT BÖN

In this discourse, proclaiming pure Bön identity perhaps even simply boils down to lodging a claim of entitlement or owning the privilege of defining what is heterodox and orthodox in a particular environment, and of course the implied claim to exclusive representation: (only) my/our tradition, canon, or reading is pure Bön. Recent strategic Bönpo manoeuvres toward establishing a g-Yung drung bon orthodoxy, in some ways, seem comparable to the earliest Bön identity concerns, as they were voiced at the turn of the first THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 149 millennium, when certain interest groups fixed their ideological reference points not within the Buddhist ma78ala but in ‘pre- Buddhist’ or ‘Old Bön’ antecedents, believed to be more original or native to Tibet. Yet, as far as our present sources go, by then, so- called antecedents of Bön may only have been partly and incom- pletely remembered and partly may also simply have been invented. Eventually, ‘Old Pre-Buddhist Bön’ became thematised and sub- sequently also cultivated as a narrative prop in early g-Yung drung bon identity discourse. This allowed Bönpos to redefine their phyi dar alternative to Buddhism in two ways: first as radically different from Buddhism and secondly as an improved, reformed, yet still authentic version of what ‘Old Bön’ of the imperial period and before, later, starting the early phyi dar (or shortly before), was presumed or imagined to be like. Old habits die hard. Both Old and g-Yung drung bon appear abstractions and virtual reference points in Bön identity discourse, and, compared to earlier, more ambivalent but also more real facts on the ground, g-Yung drung bon appears to be the more recent invention—and when comparing those nebulous, presumed, non-Buddhist antecedents, perhaps, likewise. ‘Pure g-Yung drung bon’ thus mainly emerges as an idealised reference point in internal identity dialogues of Bönpos of later ages: indeed, a vanishing point and an evanescent image of perfection, out of space and time, visualised whenever necessary or convenient. ‘Old Bön’, on the other hand, appears a point of reference in external identity dialogues of early Bönpos: indeed, another vanishing point on the tableau of Bön, an evocative and evanescent image of imper- fection. g-Yung drung bon and Old Bön may thus be mere figments in the imagination of Bön claimants. They may never have existed in their rhetorically pure forms and mainly be artefacts of identity discourse: instantly emerging when within the Bön fold, polemically, an ‘other’ is labelled Bon gsar and, by implication, as ambivalent— or is labelled as an external other: in this case Buddhism. It is not only thinkable, but with hindsight even plausible, that what we now know as organised Bön from its very beginning was largely shaped and informed by eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ tendencies. Maybe Bön is best characterised as, au fond, a ‘nativist’ (now used in the sense of self-consciously more original to ‘Tibet’) early phyi dar variant of, or alternative to, Buddhism (including its homegrown ‘bar dar’ varieties, which also fed into later rNying ma pa folds). 150 HENK BLEZER

This situation is not unlike the way in which early Islam arises as a ‘nativist’ Arabic counter movement in the Hijaz, precisely from within the Abrahamic (Jewish and Christian) fold, or Shintō develops and is constituted by the dominant presence of Buddhism in Japan: Bön develops as a locally inspired, ‘nativist’ alternative in Tibet to increasingly dominant varieties of newly introduced Buddhist culture that were perceived as xenotic. A major challenge lying ahead is to uncover which various axes these early Bönpo lobbyists had to grind; but that I must leave for future work and publication.

IT’S TURTLES ALL THE WAY DOWN!

In view of the temporal framework of emerging Bön sketched here, we should consider that the earliest eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ trends— ‘bsGrags pa’ traditions perhaps—time-wise, are not that far removed from the early formation of gShen rab narratives in the Klu 'bum, mDo 'dus, gZer myig etc., in their later, self-consciously Bön ‘sTon pa’ form (Blezer 2008a); they may overlap to a significant degree. Could an ambivalent ‘bsGrags pa environment’, as we find among the rMa clan, or in any case the wider rMa gter ston environment with its Dran pa nam mkha' and Padmasambhava-based gter ma- oriented vectors of narrative etc., eventually even have sparked off and formatted that earliest self-consciously Bön paradigm shift, away from a simple and amorphous gShen rab(s) (kyi) myi bo-story paradigm, as we still know it from Dunhuang sources, into the self- consciously Bön, perhaps “'Byung khungs kyi mdo”-type of sTon pa gshen rab format, as we find in the mDo 'dus or gZer myig (see Blezer 2008a, RET, 15, and 2010, William of Ockham)? We may therefore have to adjust our frame of reference: so-called eclectic or syncretistic tendencies in Bön may not be the relatively recent fringe phenomena or ‘deviations’ from a well-described and established g-Yung drung bon ‘orthodoxy’ that they are sometimes portrayed to be. On the contrary, these tendencies may lie at the very heart and origin of what Bön is and ever was, when it first appeared as an organised system, conversant with ‘arising’ Buddhist identities (including various tantric continuities from the intermediate period— as of yet ill-charted). Movements such as, perhaps, that perceived bsGrags pa tradition of the rMa clan, may be much closer to the reality of what Bön historically was and in fact still is. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 151

The g-Yung drung bon ideal-type may in fact have been preached from high seats in monastic institutions and their strategic outposts, in order to protect the vested interests of orthodoxy, by exercising monastic hermeneutical and exegetical prerogatives. Viewed from another, emic angle: g-Yung drung bon may be a secret weapon that is taken out of the closet on contentious or official occasions and put on display in the monastery showcase, as a deterrent and an ideal son in law, in ordet to bring new and possibly dissentious developments at the fringes (such as, presently, ‘Western’ Bön groups), back to the centre of the monastic ma78ala, geared toward subduing or aborting unwanted, divisive elements. What else could that ideal type consist of, if not of a bid for power and control by established interest groups? Would it be defined by any extant corpus of texts, such as the Zhang zhung snyan (b)rgyud, the Ma rgyud, the Me ri cycles, Dur chog-like rites, or the Klu 'bum perhaps? Textually, it seems to be defined conveniently vaguely by all and none of those collections in particular—which, with hindsight, in the course of history all were canonised all the same. But as always, the devil is in the details, for could any significant portion of Bönpo scholars agree on what constitutes a ‘pure Bön canon’? The best I have seen Bönpos come up with is eternal (g-yung drung) disagreement about an old guy’s library choice; read: his particular bid for orthodoxy and control. Usually one will be referred to mKhan chen nyi ma bstan 'dzin’s hand-list of texts: the Bönpo Gene Smith of nineteenth century Tibet. I vividly remember observations by the present sMan ri Abbot, Lung rtogs bstan pa'i nyi ma Rin po che, on the occasion of never ending complaints by Yongs 'dzin Rin po che, the former head teacher of Menri, about all the ‘Bon gsar material’ that, regrettably, was included in the new, commercially produced edition of the Bön canon. Fictively addressing Yongs 'dzin Rin po che, the abbot observed, rather humorously I might add: “Now, you tell me which volumes are ‘Bon gsar’ and I will take them out for you, just tell me how many we have to take out: five, fifty, one hundred and fifty?”; and, addressing me, again: “Who will decide that, who can tell?!”. Meanwhile, the abbot himself, as Throne-holder of sMan ri, bears responsibility for maintaining the integrity of Bön, and feels obliged and inspired to follow the sMan ri bid for canonical orthodoxy: 152 HENK BLEZER mKhan chen nyi ma bstan 'dzin’s arrangement (read: hand-list) of the Bon bka' gyur. His Geshes are working on reorganising that latest, commercially produced edition of the canon accordingly, and separating that from a Bon gsar arrangement following Kun grol grags pa’s hand-list (on which latter they soon have had to give up; it simply turned out to be too complicated).

CONCLUSIONS

This Gestalt switch and new perspective on Bön as fundamentally ambivalent in an eclectic way we certainly owe to Blondeau’s work and to her reflection on possible ‘bsGrags pa’ Bon traditions. She managed to break the spell of g-Yung drung bon orthodoxy, such as cast by the venerable Yongs 'dzin Rin po che and other defenders of a normative Bön. True, we are talking ordinary magic here, but a spell powerful enough to keep also academia spell-bound for an extraordinarily long time. If only people with sufficient traditional or academic clout refer to g-Yung drung bon often enough, eventually, one may be suffer the illusion, and be tricked into believing that at least something implied by all that ‘eternal’ rhetoric, really exists, or did exist, somewhere out there, some time. By way of preliminary conclusions, I should like to connect the dots and relate our present analyses to the main academic exercise of this edited volume, a reflection on the framing of discourse and the special case of ‘nativism’, and characterise ‘nativistic’ Bön: • Bön as an alternative to phyi dar Buddhism (and possibly also further involved in ‘bar dar’ rNying ma pa antecedents—this part definitely needs more work), in its subaltern Tibetan niches, typically reacts to and emulates (dominant) Buddhist culture. • From its very inception, Bön therefore manifests as an eclectic or ‘syncretistic’ ‘other’ of Buddhism, vying, with comparable strategies, for similar resources. • Dominant Tibetan Buddhist cultural presence is generally perceived, and also consciously construed, as ‘foreign’ to Tibet. • Conquering and cultivating its subaltern niche, Bön consequently construes its alternative identities polemically as ‘non-foreign’, or at least as ‘less foreign’. • Bön is thus constitutionally disposed toward ‘nativistic’ identity strategies. THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 153

• In those subaltern sociological niches, Bön discourses have assumed both ‘syncretistic’ and ‘nativistic’ tendencies. • Bön pushes its emulation of Buddhist rhetoric even to the point of internal contradiction, when, in mimicry of Buddhism tropes of more prestigious non-Tibetan origins, it too traces its native roots to prestigious, foreign, western cultural influences—be they d earlier than imported Buddhist culture ... • As Bön develops its position of ‘otherness’ vis-à-vis a new, foreign, dominant cultural presence into its own identity discourses—‘old’, ‘new’ & ‘eternal’—it irrevocably heads for anti- syncretism: after all, in Tibet, some are more ‘other’ than others. • Anti-syncretism thus seems a necessary step in the development of Bön identity discourse. The coincidence of self-conscious ‘nativism’ and anti-syncretism, incidentally, may be a phenomenon of much wider impact that deserves more systematic study, and reveal a fundamental causal relation. • Surprisingly many contradictions are apparent in Bön identity discourses: o Bön asserts being ‘native’ to Tibet, but at the same time claims ultimately foreign origins, from far western regions and beyond; o Bön looks to the west, but the earliest narratives of its origins instead seem to have been first conceived more centrally in Tibet; o Bön’s ideologically most central clans, gShen and dMu, in their identity narratives may first have been promulgated by other family groups, such as the rMa. o Bön, nunc pro tunc, claims to be older than Buddhism in Tibet, but historiographically appears later; likewise the narratives on their presumably early origins; o Bönpos claim to differ from Buddhism, but appear very much alike. These and other internal contradictions clearly point to the ad hoc dialogic character of Bön religious historical identity narratives, which, as said, fundamentally prioritise structures and potentials for meaning over historical fact. This, too, may be an observation of wider relevance that begs comparisons, to which this volume hopes to make a modest contribution. 154 HENK BLEZER

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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—— (forthc.), The Three Pillars of Bon: Doctrine, ‘Location’ & Founder, Volume I: Doctrine, Part I: Antecedents of Bon Religion in Tibet and Part II: Tibetan Texts, in BTSL; volume one of three, Brill: Leiden. Blondeau: (1971), “Le Lha-'dre bka'-thang”, in Études tibétaines dédiées à la mémoire de Marcelle Lalou, pp.29–126, Paris 1971; —— (1980), “Analysis of the Biographies of Padmasambhava according to Tibetan Tradition: Classification of Sources”, in Tibetan Studies in Honour of Hugh Richardson, Proceedings of the International Seminar on Tibetan Studies Oxford 1979, edited by M. Aris and San Suu Kyi Aung, pp.45–52, Warminster 1980; —— (1984), “Le ‘découvreur’ du Maṇi bka'-'bum était-il Bon-po?”, in Tibetan and Buddhist Studies, Commemorating the 200th Anniversary of the Birth of Alexander Csoma de Körös, edited by L. Ligeti, in Bibliotheca Orientalis Hungarica, Vol.XXIX.1, pp.77–122, Budapest 1984; —— (1985), “mKhyen-brce'i dba]-po: la biographie de Padmasambhava selon la tradition du bsGrags-pa Bon, et ses sources”, in Orientalia Iosephi Tucci Memoriae Dicata, edited by G. Gnoli and L. Lanciotti, Serie Orientale Roma, Vol.LVI, 1, pp.111–58, Roma 1985; —— (1987), “Une polémique sur l’authenticité des Bka'-thang au 17e siècle”, in Silver on Lapis: Tibetan Literary Culture and History, edited by C.I. Beckwith, pp.125–61, Bloomington 1987; —— (1988), “La controverse soulevée par l'inclusion de rituels bon-po dans le Rin-čhen gter-mjod. Note préliminaire, in Tibetan Studies, Proceedings of the 4th Seminar of the International Association of Tibetan Studies, Schloß Hohenkammer, edited by H. Uebach and J. Panglung, pp.55-67, München (1988); —— (1990), “Identification de la tradition appelée bsGrags pa Bon lugs”, in Indo-Tibetan Studies, Papers in Honour and Appreciation of Professor David L. Snellgrove’s Contribution to Indo-Tibetan Studies, edited by T. Skorupski, pp.37–54 (= Acta Orientalia Hungarica, Vol.43, no.2–3 (1989), Tring 1990; —— See also many relevant reports in the EPHE Annuaire series, esp. from 1975-1985. Haarh, E., The Yar-luT Dynasty, A study with special regards to the contribution by myths and legends to the history of Ancient Tibet and the origin and nature of its kings, København 1969. Hoffmann, H. (1940), “Zur Literatur der Bon-po”, in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, Vol.XCIV, pp.169–88, Leipzig 1940; —— (1956), Die Religionen Tibet’s, Freiburg/München 1956. Kalsang Norbu Gurung, (2011a), “Bon monastic discipline and the great master dGongs pa rab gsal”, in Emerging Bon, Proceedings of the eleventh Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Königswinter 2006, edited by Henk Blezer, Halle: International Institute for Tibetan and Buddhist Studies, 2011; 156 HENK BLEZER

—— (2011b), “History and antiquity of the mDo 'dus in relation to mDo chen po bzhi”, in Emerging Bon, Proceedings of the eleventh Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Königswinter 2006, edited by Henk Blezer, Halle: International Institute for Tibetan and Buddhist Studies, 2011; —— The Emergence of a Myth: in Search of the Origins of the Life Story of Shenrab Miwo, The Founder of Bon, Ph.D. Thesis, (date of public defense: Leiden, May 2011). Karmay, S.G. (1977), A Catalogue of Bonpo Publications, The Toyo Bunko, Tokyo 1977; —— (1998), The Arrow and the Spindle: Studies in History, Myths, Rituals and Beliefs in Tibet, Kathmandu 1998. Kværne, P. (1971), “A Chronological Table of the Bon po the bsTan rtsis of Ñi ma bstan 'jin”, in Acta Orientalia, Vol.XXXIII, pp.203–82, Havniæ 1971; —— (1972), “Aspects of the Origin of the Buddhist Tradition in Tibet”, Numen, International Review for the History of Religions, Vol.XIX, pp.22–40, Leiden 1972; —— (1975), “The Canon of the Bonpos, Indo-Iranian Journal, Vol.XVI, pt.I: “Introduction”, pp.18–56, pt.II: “Index of the Canon”, pp.96–144; —— (1983), “‹‹The Great Perfection›› in the Tradition of the Bonpos”, in Early Ch'an in China and Tibet, edited by Wh. Lai and L.R. Lancaster, Berkeley Buddhist Studies Series 5, pp.367–92, Berkeley 1983; —— (1985), “Tibet, Bon Religion, A Death Ritual of the Tibetan Bonpos” in Iconography of Religions, Section XII, East and Central Asia, Vol.XIII, Leiden 1985. Lhagyal, Dondrup (2000), “Bonpo Family Lineages in Central Tibet”, in New Horizons in Bon Studies, Bon Studies 2, Senri Ethnological Reports 15, edited by S.G. Karmay and Y. Nagano, pp.429–508, Osaka 2000. Martin, D.P. (1987), “Illusion Web: Locating the Guhyagarbha Tantra in Buddhist Intellectual History”, in Silver on Lapis: Tibetan Literary Culture and History, edited by C.I. Beckwith, pp. 57–62, Bloomington 1987; —— (1991 unpublished), The Emergence of Bon and the Polemical Tradition in Tibet, UMI Ph.D. Thesis, Indiana Un. 1991; —— (1994) trsl., Mandala Cosmogony, Human Body Good Thought and the Revelation of the Secret Mother Tantras of Bon, Wiesbaden 1994; —— (2000), “Comparing Treasuries: Mental States and Other mDzod phug lists and passages with parallels in Abhidharma works by Vasubandhu and Asa]ga, or in Prajñāpāramitā Sūtras, A Progres Report”, in New Horizons in Bon Studies, edited by S.G. Karmay and Y. Nagano, Bon Studies 2, Senri Ethnological Reports 15, pp.21–88, Osaka 2000; —— (2001), Unearthing Bon Treasures, Life and Contested Legacy of a Tibetan Scripture Revealer, Leiden 2001; —— (2003), main editor, A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, see Nagano, Yasuhiko and Kværne, Per (2003). THE PARADOX OF BÖN IDENTITY DISCOURSE 157

Smith, E.G., Schaeffer, K ed. (2001), Among Tibetan texts, History & Literature of the Himalayan Plateau, Boston 2001. Snellgrove, D.L. (1967) ed. & trl., The nine Ways of Bon, Excerpts from gZi-brjid, London Oriental Series, Volume 18, London: SOAS 1967; —— (1987), Indo-Tibetan Buddhism, Indian Buddhists and their Tibetan Successors, London 1987. Stein, R.A., (1983–92), “Tibetica Antiqua I–VI, Part I: Les deux vocabulaires des traductions indo-tibétaine et sino-tibétaine dans les manuscripts de Touen-Houang (1983:149–236); Part II: L’usage de metaphors pour distinctions honorifiques à l’époque des rois tibétains (1984:257–72); Part III: A propos du mot gcug lag et la religion indigène (1985:83–133); Part IV: la tradition relative au début du bouddhisme au Tibet (1986:169–96); Part V: La religion indigène et les bon-po dans les manuscrits de Touen Huang (1988:27–56); Part VI: Maximes confucianistes dans deux manuscripts de Touen-houang (1992:9–17), in Bulletin de l’école française d'extrême orient, vols LXXII–V, LXXVII, LXXIX.1, Paris 1983–92. Tucci, G. (1949), Tibetan Painted Scrolls, Roma 1949. Walter, M.L. (2009), Buddhism and Empire, The Political and Religious Culture of Early Tibet, Leiden 2009.

RITUAL INDIGENISATION AS A DEBATED ISSUE IN TIBETAN BUDDHISM (11TH TO EARLY 13TH CENTURIES)1

DAN MARTIN (HEBREW UNIVERSITY, JERUSALEM)

As a young person, I remember being very much impressed, and even a little frightened, after reading a marvelously illustrated children’s book about a legendary or folkloric Japanese creature called the Kappa. I did what I believe people everywhere are doing in cases of recovered childhood memories. I googled it. That is how I can tell you that it was certainly Betty Jean Lifton’s book, Kap the Kappa, illustrated by Eiichi Matsui, and first published in 1960. What I continuously retained in memory for several decades is an image of the monkey-like sea creature, with a turtle shell on its back, walking on two feet and looking slightly menacing. The Kappa could live quite finely out of its native element only so long as it could avoid spilling the water from the bowl built into the top of its head. In case this happened, as it very well might since it was polite and had the tendency to bow back when bowed to, it would weaken and eventually die. I would like to take the Kappa as a symbol of adaptation. In doing so, I might be accused of adapting the story to my own purposes, but I can live with that. Anyway, I would like to point to another aspect of the Kappa image: it not only carries with it some small but crucial sample of its native element, it is forced by circumstances to adapt

1 This essay is dedicated first of all to the late Taktser Rinpoche Thubten Jigme Norbu (sTag 'tsher Rin po che Thub bstan 'jigs med nor bu), who died in Blooming- ton, Indiana on September 5, 2008. Dedicated, too, to the two other persons apart from myself who completed their doctoral degrees in Tibetan Studies in Indiana University in 1991—Yael Bentor and Todd Gibson. That I have benefited from some parts of their dissertation research on consecration and on tsen (btsan) spirits ought to be evident here. Thanks also to both Dorjee Wangchuk of Hamburg and Kalsang Norbu Gurung of Leiden, for revealing, thought-provoking discussions on the etymology of 'brang rgyas and for some suggestions on difficult points in the translations. 160 DAN MARTIN itself to its new world. It has to cover itself in the local clothing, disguising its identity as a stranger, an alien entity. I think the Kappa2 could be good to think with in the sense that it prepares us to think in both directions, as we must, when we talk of such matters as cultural adaptation, indigenisation3 and nativism. I propose to look into some of the water in the head-bowl that Tibetans took with them in their historical and continuing transition toward being the best of all possible Buddhists. I want to spend an inordinate amount of time on what may seem like a very small cultural item. My interest in it began early on in my dissertation work about two decades ago. It led through several phases of research failures, false starts and, I add in a spirit of optimism, some semi-successes. I changed my mind and changed it back again. The thing itself, while apparently of little consequence, I want to argue to be indicative or emblematic of larger-scale processes that I hope to consider in broader terms before too long.4 Perhaps it would follow academic logic to begin with the word dranggyé.5 Still, since there is little variance in describing it, I think

2 For academic studies on the Kappa, see for example Foster (1998) and literature cited there. 3 At present it appears that the most common use of the term ‘indigenisation’ is as a way of indicating what happens once the (European or North American Christian) missionaries have gone home, or once the locally born priests and preachers have taken over responsibility for the churches. There may be faults with using the term, although I continue to use it in want of a better one. One fault of it is that its use might imply too much conscious intent, as if there were some carefully planned program by the Department of Indigenisation to set the rules and parameters. In my usage, it is more like an ungovernable process, something that very probably happened first, getting noticed and reflected upon after the fact. There has been a great deal of literature on the appropriateness of various words for cultural exchanges, like ‘syncretism’, ‘hybridity’, ‘bricolage’, ‘creolisation’, ‘synthesis’, and the like. Among recent writings I would especially recommend an article by Charles Stewart (1999), which has an impressive bibliography of previous discussions. 4 For an essay dealing with the history of a Tibetan ritual item, in many ways similar to what I am attempting here, see the essay by Anna-Marie Blondeau (1990). 5 Although the spelling 'brang rgyas is the most common, I have also noticed the spellings brang rgyas and sbrang rgyas. In what is today considered by many the standard dictionary, the Zhang Yisun (1993) dictionary, the spelling is 'brang rgyas. It is defined as “a mound-shaped (or half-moon shaped) Torma made to resemble the region of the heart of a human” (bzo lta mi'i snying kha lta bu'i gtor ma zlum po). Just to clarify, snying kha doesn’t mean the heart. It means the skin surface in the

RITUAL INDIGENISATION 161 for simplicity it is better to start with a description. The dranggyé is by all accounts a ritual food offering for deities (or spirits) of one kind or another. Although size does appear to vary in practice and according to locale, it tends to be a large but shallow mound of packed-down barley flour decorated with flecks, dabs or florets of butter. In Ladakh in particular it seems to have gotten extremely large, so large that sometimes dried goat carcasses were leaned up against it, a feature as far as I know not known in other areas of Tibetan Buddhist culture. In recent times in Ladakh there have been efforts to limit their size out of concern for waste of food resources. Since in Ladakh and western Tibet, at least, these seem to be its main usages, we might gain the impression that the dranggyé is meant to be used in marriage and New Year (or harvest festival) contexts,6 festivities that are domestic and largely local in nature, celebrations area of the heart. sNying kha is defined in Dag yig gsar bsgrigs (1979:280): snying yod sa'i brang ngos kyi ming, “word for the surface of the chest where the heart resides”. 6 For its use in western Tibet, see Khenrap in Tibet Journal, Vol.25.4 (2000), at p.60. According to Khenrap’s account, one was made in each house for the first day of the New Year holiday, and it also had a special song called sBrang rgyas kyi Glu [note the spelling variant]. The song in praise of the dranggyé is listed among the wedding songs used in the same area of western Tibet in Lobsang Shastri (1994), p.757, song no.16). For use in Ladakhi weddings, see Brauen (1983:111), and Gutschow (2004:154), where we may read. “The marriage is consummated when the bride and groom both partake of a symbolic offering cake ('brang rgyas) which symbolises their new world and life together”. This suggests that the dranggyé may share some of its history with the wedding cake ceremony that forms a part of very many modern weddings. There is also something in Aggarwal (2001:558), about the idea that the dranggyé ought to be reduced in size: “Already, the reformists had called for a reduction in the size of the dranggyé, the meal-mountain carved from barley-dough that stood at the center of the ritual ground during marriage and birth banquets and on the fourth day of the New Year”. There is another brief discussion of 'brang rgyas in Kohn (2001), p.310, n.9. According to information received from Kalsang Norbu Gurung (Leiden), the dranggyé is still in use in some Bön rituals today, including rituals belonging to the category of gSur bsngo and Glud. He also kindly lent me a brief Bön ritual text extracted from an unidentified larger volume that clearly makes use of this food offering. The definition of 'brang rgyas found in Pasar, et al. (2008:175), says, zhal zas sam gtor ma'i rigs shig / dper na 'brang rgyas u kyu dang khra bo—“a type of ritual offering cake, ex. the 'Brang rgyas 'u kyu and the khra bo”. Here 'u kyu apparently means with a “twisted head”, while khra bo means “multicolored”. Another reference to a Bön ritual usage of the Expanded Heart, performed as part of the story that forms a paradigmatic origin myth for the Walchu (dbal chu) ritual, is found in Norbu (1995:211). 162 DAN MARTIN of present and future abundance performed without the assistance of Buddhist monks, and very possibly without the assistance of any type of ritual specialist from outside the immediate family. This might all be so, but it has been used in a number of other ritual contexts as well. The dissertation work that instigated my interest in the dranggyé was devoted to the life of Shenchen Luga (996–1035 AD), a treasure revealer belonging to the Bön religion. One day in the middle of winter in 1017 he excavated two small boxes containing texts that would prove to be of very great significance for his followers. The story is told in his own voice: I went to take the treasure manuscripts and in a moment they were gone to who knows where. I went to the treasure hole and said, “Now how is it they were here and now that I come to take them they are gone?” In the evening a black woman and a black man came and said, “Do not take away these things of ours. When you extract them, set up as their ‘substitutes’ a white sheep with vermillion eyes and a white yak with red forehead spot and belly wool. Set up a dranggyé with small vermillion spots together with a small food offering. Display them in front of the hole and then take them”. When they said that, I did not 7 want to take them. The black woman and black man mentioned here are not further identified in early sources, although it is sure that, as always in accounts of treasure excavations, they are deities of the locality who act as guardians of the treasures. In this account the treasure guardians actually made the texts disappear before he was able to withdraw them from their hiding place. In later sources the female protector of Shenchen’s treasures is identified as Yeshé Welmo (Ye shes dbal mo),8 while the male does not seem to be identified at all. There is much more to discuss here, but I just want to emphasise that in this autobiographical narrative of an event at the beginning of the 11th century preserved in a late 15th century Bön history, the drang-

7 Quoted with slight modifications from Martin (2001:63f). 8 For the source along with a description of Ye shes dbal mo, see Martin (2001:98f). RITUAL INDIGENISATION 163 gyé is a food offering. It is a food offering placed on the altar for the ritual propitiation of local deities acting as treasure protectors.9 But now, let us think a little about the etymology of the word dranggyé. To paraphrase Ralph Waldo Emerson, all language is poetry in its fossilised form. True, it may often be the case that the original metaphors behind speech forms have been forgotten, having little to do with their present meanings. That could be the reason many people see etymology as a useless academic exercise and a waste of time, although I see it as revealing a realm of possible meanings and associations that possess potential explanatory power, so I’ll go ahead with it. It is perhaps well known that, while not entirely impossible, etymologies in languages that appear to be monosyllabic like Chinese and Tibetan are more difficult than they are in other languages. Speaking only of Tibetan, it is clear to myself at least that it is actually a predominantly bisyllabic language. In any case, the particular word we want to discuss is both bisyllabic and a compound made up of two distinct words. Since the second syllable is much easier, let us start there. Gye (rgyas) means “grown, expanded, vast” although in specific contexts it may also refer to the opening of eyes, or the blooming of flowers. The first syllable drang ('brang) is a little more problematic partly because it is spelled in different ways. The presence of the initial letter in this case is anyway optional.10 First we will look at drang when it acts as a verbal. When so used, it includes notions of approaching or pursuing something, and even of attack or assault (Sanskrit samanujñā, āskandana). The most common verbal usage by far is in the longer phrase jesu drangwa (rjes su 'brang ba),

9 Virtually the same scenario played out when another treasure revealer named gZe ston sPu gu rGyal mtshan found his treasure texts. He also made use of the dranggyé. See Karmay (1972:149). 10 Besides the usual 'brang and the common brang, I have also noted the spelling sbrang. As it occurs in such words as sbrang ma, “bee”, and sbrang rtsi, “honey”, sbrang might be in some way explicable as an active or transitive (in Tibetan, tha dad pa) form of the same verb. The verb 'brang ba is unusual in that the initial 'a (a true letter nevertheless representted by the apostrophé in Wylie transcription) most often marks verbs as intransitive (tha mi dad pa), and intransitive verbs generally drop the initial 'a chung in their past forms. Being an exception, 'brang ba is, despite its spelling, transitive and ought to preserve the initial 'a chung in all tenses. 164 DAN MARTIN

“following after” (and less literally, “believing in [something]”), although this is one of those Tibetan phrases that was directly calqued from a Sanskrit word, in this case anusara7a. Searching for the word in all the large Tibetan-Sanskrit lexicons we find only the verbal usages and not a single instance of a nominal usage (except in the compounds to be mentioned shortly). It is of interest to note that the complete word dranggyé is also not to be found in those same lexicons. This might be very significant for our arguments if we could claim that their compilers used a lot of ritual literature, but the fact is they did not. To simplify matters, I’ll just say that we may feel doubtful about the verbal meanings for basic syntactical reasons. As the first syllable of dranggyé, drang is more likely to be a noun, since the second syllable appears to be acting as its qualifier.11 So let us look briefly at the substantive usage that must be more relevant to us. There are circumstances in which drang clearly means a residence or domicile, especially obvious in two compound words that nowadays at least refer to buildings. One is labrang (bla brang), the residence of a reincarnate Lama that forms part of a monastery. The other is podrang (pho brang), a word for a fortified building or palace. We could analyze this word as meaning a “residence for men”,12 although one scholar13 at least has argued that podrang originally meant in imperial times a mobile institution of state rather than an immobile building, although the earlier meaning was eventually lost. In the case of chondrang (cho 'brang), which is used to mean the mother’s household ancestry or the domicile of the mother’s brother, it is not so clear whether the idea of a physical structure is ever intended. I do know of one case (in the Abhisamayāla3kāra) where chondrang is used to translate the Indic notion of gotra.14 But this is

11 I suppose this statement ought to be qualified, since there are possibilities of it being a compound of two verbal forms or of two qualifiers. 12 It is not entirely to be excluded that the pho element, rather than its more obvious meaning as “male”, might stem from one form or another of the verbs 'bo ba or 'pho ba, although for present purposes the argument would not seem to make very much difference. 13 Denwood (1990). 14 Generally, however, gotra is translated by Tibetan rig (rigs), and rig means the patriline, not the matriline; in India women had to give up the gotra of their fathers at marriage and take the gotra of their husbands. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 165 likely to be a simple case of inaccurate translation and, if so, may be neglected with confidence. When drang is used alone it is often defined as meaning the nomad’s black animal-hair tent. So far, to sum up, this would suggest that we could translate dranggyé as “expanded domicile”, “expanded matriline”, or “expanded nomad tent”. A second and I think important area of meaning of drang ('brang) has to do with the chest. I must emphasise right away, not just the chests of women (this mistake was committed by at least one translator to be mentioned below), and not just the chests of humans, but of horses, snakes15 and perhaps other animals as well. I would like to draw attention to two specific usages of this “chest” meaning from pre-Mongol sources. There is one interesting usage of the drang word for “chest” by early Kagyü and Zhijé sources, a usage that seems to have disappeared in later literature. Here is a sample from the Tingri Hundreds, the most celebrated work by Padampa Sanggyé, regarded as founder of the Zhijé school in the late 11th century: Devote yourself to the Three Jewels with mind, heart and chest. 16 Blessings will arise in force, my Tingrians. I think that—very much like the English expression “Heart, body and soul”—this is a way of saying “with all your mental and physical powers”. The word I translated as “mind” appears in a parallel verse with the homonym that means “lungs” (glo [ba]) and in fact we know that in Tibetan Imperial times the word for “lungs” is often used in senses that inform us that for early Tibetans the lungs formed the physiological seat for certain kinds of thoughts and feelings.17 Even today, when Tibetans speak of their “mind”, they point to the

15 Brang 'gro is a poetic word for “snake” with the literal meaning “chest goer”. It is mostly encountered in formal poetry done in Indic kāvya style, and so is very likely to be a calque translation from Sanskrit uraga, with the same meanings. Observe that snakes are not mammals and lack mammary glands. I take this as a strong evidence for the argument against translating 'brang by the English word “breast”. 16 blo snying brang gsum dkon mchog gsum la gtod // byin rlabs shugs la 'byung ngo ding ri ba // 17 Students of the Old Tibetan texts from Dunhuang have often commented on this. The classic article, at the moment not available to me, is Uray (1959). 166 DAN MARTIN middle of their chests, to their hearts, and not to their heads, as is anyway true of many peoples of the world.18 There are some more interesting usages that are more difficult to explicate. One of these instances is found in the name of a divine entity of cosmogonic significance in the opening chapter of the Innermost Treasury of Existence. A scientific text corresponding in many ways with the Abhidharma texts of various Buddhist schools, it was first excavated by the treasure revealer Shenchen Luga in the year 1017 AD. The Innermost Treasury is the only significantly long bilingual text in both Tibetan and Zhangzhung languages. The first triad of male offspring of the Pure One and the Water Lady Queen are, in my own idiosyncratic translation, in order of their birth: White Chest, the Lord of Becoming; White Staff, the Lord of Allotment [or Appointment]; and White Enduring Presence, the Lord of Lots. Here I believe the “chest” is associated with the world of dynamic existence, of evolution (if we may use that word here), and of birth, growth and generation. There is much more to say, but I fear it will lead us too far afield. The Innermost Treasury is itself an interesting example of how the Bön religion adapted particular elements of Indian Buddhist sciences to a more primal and local cosmogony, and not in an easy and seamless synthesis, either. It certainly was not done in the manner traditional anti-Bön polemics would have us believe, as a simple copying of an Indian Buddhist Abhidharma text with terminological changes made where necessary. What is remarkable here is just that a male figure with a critical role in cosmogony has the word 'brang, or “chest”, in his name.19

18 But see Sugunasiri (1995). Viewing the heart as the center of thinking activity in fact centers the mind within the body as a whole. Locating thought in the head or brain tends to separate it from the body, leaving it connected through the relatively narrow isthmus of the neck. 19 See Martin (2000) as well as Martin (2003). Kalsang Norbu Gurung also pointed out to me the use of the syllable 'brang in the word g-yu 'brang (g-yu being a word for “turquoise”) but the definition of this word is itself quite obscure. It has sometimes been defined as an “elixir” (bdud rtsi). For example, see Btsan lha (1997:866). For the charge of ‘translation’ in the sense of terminological substitutions, see the 13th-century text translated in Martin (2001:194–7). For a study of how the The Forty-Two Sections of Buddhist Sūtras, one of the very first Buddhist scriptures translated into Chinese in the 1st c. AD, was later changed into a Daoist text, see Bumbacher (2006). This scripture was never included in any of the Tibetan Kanjur collections, and it appears that the Tibetan translation we have today was

RITUAL INDIGENISATION 167

So, with this let us leave etymology behind. I am aware I have not exactly eliminated all the alternatives. I believe the effort to trace meanings has at least opened an area of significance that just might have something to do with the history of the Expanded Chest, although it is difficult to claim complete certainty. Anyway, from now on we will call it the Expanded Chest. In the coming discussion on ritual usages of the Expanded Chest we ought to do our best to stay within the limits of what I call the Pre-Mongol Period, by which I mean the 11th, 12th and early decades of the 13th centuries. Still, I will start out with one source that is much later. It is a general work on consecration rituals written by the immediate reincarnation of the founder and an abbot of the important Nyingma educational center Dorjedrak Monastery. The title of this 1694 AD work is The Heart of the Jewel that Clarifies the Ocean of Meanings of Tantra, a Disquisition on Consecration Rituals.20 I start with it in order to emphasise that our tiny field of Expanded Chest studies has a Tibetan history. The Dorjedrak abbot mentions one source about the Expanded Chest that I probably would have overlooked otherwise. This could be one of the more important of the points to be made in this paper, which is that we’re not breaking with tradition or breaking into new territory when we speak about 'ritual indigenisation’ in early Tibet, since it was an issue that concerned them, too. But enough of that for now. Here is the quote from the Dorjedrak abbot. He belongs to the Nyingma school, which is regarded as the old school, founded in Imperial Times (not then known by that name), particularly inspired by the Indian master Padmasambhava who came to Tibet in the late 8th century. When he says “New Schools” he means the Kadam, Kagyü, Zhijé, and Sakya schools that started growing in the 11th century. He says, On the side of the New Schools, [there are those who] have this doubt, saying [things like] “This Expanded Chest seems like a Bön tradition”. done relatively recently, during the Qianlong era in the last half of the 18th century, on the basis of the Chinese. It seems to be widely accepted that this scripture was compiled in China. 20 rDor brag Rig 'dzin (1973:49). Dorjedrak (rDo rje brag) might be sometimes be called by its longer name of Tubten Dorjedrak (Thub bstan rDo rje brag). Located near the north bank of the Tsangpo (Brahmaputra) River, it was founded in 1632. It is regarded as one of the most important Nyingma monasteries in Central Tibet. 168 DAN MARTIN

In [Sakya Pandita’s work] Distinguishing [the Three Vows] he says, “and the Expanded Chest that was not taught [by the Buddha]”. Also, it was not spoken about in the tantra[s]. But nevertheless it is mentioned clearly in an Indian text, the consecration ritual [treatise] of Elder Brother (Jowo [Je Atiśa]) where he says, “substances for 21 auspiciousness including the Expanded Chest”. I have never encountered any other written statement like the first one given here telling us that the Expanded Chest might be a Bön tradition, although we have seen that Shenchen Luga, a Bönpo, did make use of it. Since the abbot names no particular source, perhaps he took this from general knowledge or oral commentaries by his teachers. The second and third statements are rather easily traced since he does give the sources, although with abbreviated titles. The Distinguishing the Three Vows was written by Sakya Pandita (1182– 1251 AD) in or around the year 1232. It has been translated into English in what is overall a very fine translation. The Expanded Chest appears in a verse that forms part of a general discussion of mistaken practices within the field of ritual offerings. Here is the existing English translation by the late Jared Rhoton: Some do not practice the giving of food oblations and hand-squeezed dough as the Enlightened One instructed, but are seen to fashion other sacrificial cakes in the shape of breasts and triangles, 22 which he did not teach. Of course, by now we know that the word dranggyé should not be translated as “breasts”. “Triangles” means another type of torma used

21 gsar ma phyogs la 'brang rgyas 'di bon lugs lta bu yin par dwogs te / rab dbyer / ma gsungs pa yi 'brang rgyas dang / zhes gsungs mod kyang / rgyud las kyang gsungs mod [~med] kyi / khyad par jo bo'i rab gnas rgya gzhung du / 'brang rgyas la sogs bkra shis rdzas / zhes gsal bar gsungs. 22 Sakya Pandita (2002:125, with Tibetan text on p.306, column two; the third verse, which is v.219 in Rhoton’s numeration). The Tibetan text reads: 'ga' zhig sangs rgyas gsungs pa yi // lha bshos chang bu mi byed par // ma gsungs pa yi 'brang rgyas dang // gru gsum la sogs byed pa mthong // RITUAL INDIGENISATION 169 in food offerings with triangular shape.23 We need to be clear about the character of Sakya Pandita in order to understand his more general positions. He truly earned the Indian title Pandita because of his mastery of Sanskrit grammar, including a technical understanding of Sanskrit grammatical systems. Because of this and his knowledge of Indian Buddhist logic, kāvya poetics and other traditional sciences, he might well be considered one of the best Indologists ever produced by Tibet. So it could be surprising to hear that he never visited India or even Nepal. Still, as a youth in his 20’s he lived in a very Indian world thanks to the arrival of the Kashmiri pundit Śākyaśrībhadra (1122–1220?) in 1204. Śākyaśrī came together with nine learned panditas from various parts of north India and Nepal, each one of them a teacher in his own right. Three of the ten Indians figured at different times as Sakya Pandita’s language teachers. Given this educational background, it may be no surprise that he would become one of the leading exponents of Buddhism with purely Indian characteristics, free of natively Tibetan contributions. This, along with pointing out Tibetan misinterpretations, mistranslations, and similar confusions, forms an especially strong theme in his work on the three vows. For him, the dranggyé is just one of many examples of unacceptable Tibetan ‘interpolations’ into what ought to be a perfectly Indian Buddhist context. Given his attitude, we ought to point out that Sakya Pandita’s own uncle Sönam Tsemo (bSod nams rtse mo, 1142–82 AD), who died the same year Sakya Pandita was born, advocated the use of the Expanded Chest in a work of his on jinsek (sbyin bsregs) fire ritual (homa, or in Japan, goma).24 That’s very interesting. But what if we

23 The triangular torma is often used in rituals of the Nyingma School, particularly in rituals or segments of rituals devoted to the protector deities. Triangular tormas are made for the female protectors. See Kohn (2001:128). Elsewhere Kohn (2001), p.310, n.9) cites a work by Sarat Chandra Das in which he says that 'brang rgyas is a word for a woman’s breast that is then also used for a round torma, although I have not yet been able to locate the original context. Kohn quotes the main officiant of the ritual, Trulshik Rinpoche ('Khrul zhig Rin po che Ngag dbang chos kyi blo gros, b. 1923), as rejecting any such association between the 'brang rgyas and a woman’s breasts. 24 Found in bSod nams rtse mo (1968), p.112, column 3: “Then if you have the food called caru, or even if you do not have it, eliminate the impediment spirits in the Expanded Chest and the like, and do the verses of auspiciousness with their chant-melodies, make the first-fruits offering to the deities and with their leftovers

170 DAN MARTIN were to find two pieces of evidence well over a century before Sakya Pandita’s writing by which it would appear that two different Indians, both of them residents of Tibet, made use of the Expanded Chest? Then what if we add to these an occurrence in what looks like a canonical tantric text devoted to the elephant and attributed to Nāgārjuna? What would all this mean? Surely (you must be thinking) these overtly Indic sources threaten to destroy any idea we might have of its indigenous origins. Let us look first at the source mentioned by the abbot of Dorjedrak, the consecration ritual by Atiśa that is contained in the Tanjur. Perhaps our first response when faced with a source that goes against our ideas is to find rationales for doubting its authenticity. Among text-focused scholars this is scientifically predictable behav- ior. So let me just say that I see no good reason for doubting that Atiśa’s work25 is really by him. Of course he was an Indian, so it would have to be, therefore, an Indian text. Its colophon says it was translated by Atiśa together with his Tibetan disciple Gya Tsöndrü Senggé (rGya brTson 'grus seng ge) at Vikramaśīla Monastery. To follow this it must have existed in India in an Indian language before it was translated. Atiśa arrived in Tibet in 1042 and remained there until his death twelve years later in 1054, the year of the Crab Super-

...” (de nas tsa ru'i bza' ba yod dam / de med na yang 'brang rgyas la sogs pa la bgegs bsal la / bkra shis kyi tshigs bcad dbyangs dang bcas pa byas la / phud lha la phul la / de'i lhag ma la ...). The caru is a type of prasād eaten during the course of the ritual already in Vedic rites. It is a thickened rich food made with milk and butter as main ingredients (see Bentor 1996:286). The context is his work associated with a Hevajra sādhana text called the Suparigraha, “Encompassing the Good”, written by Durjayacandra (“Invincible Moon”). He may have flourished in the 10th century, since the Great Translator Rin chen bzang po (958–1055 AD) met a master by that name at Vikramaśīla. This monastery was located on some hill overlooking the Ganges in present-day Bihar. Its exact location is still a matter for claims, speculations and controversy. Cyrus Stearns (2001:212), argues that the Sanskrit form Durgacandra is preferable to Durjayacandra. 25 Atiśa, Kāya-vāk-citta-supratiNOhā. It seems that the Tibetan translator of this text, rGya brTson 'grus seng ge, a native to western Tibet, died in Nepal in 1040, so the translation was necessarily made before Atiśa’s entry into Tibet. And he worked together with Atiśa on quite a number of translations, including translations of works by other Indian authors. For the Tibetan account of rGya brTson 'grus seng ge’s death, see Eimer (1979:II.183), where Atiśa exclaims, in his grief, “My going to Tibet has no purpose. Now you might as well cut out my tongue for all the help I am going to be to Tibetans”. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 171 nova, although this is not to suggest a necessary connection between the death of Atiśa and the death of the star. But Atiśa was most definitely a ‘star’ in the sense that he was an extremely popular teacher who traveled about western and central Tibet speaking to huge crowds of people. I have no doubt that, although he was an old man, he did learn some Tibetan language, and even became somewhat acculturated. He may have been the first Indian to know the taste of tea. Well, of course, we would have to say that surely Indians who had earlier visited China must have tasted it. In any case, Atiśa commented that such a remarkable beverage was unknown in India.26 But at the same time I believe he remained all his life dependent on his translators. Atiśa’s consecration work is frequently cited in the later Tibetan works on the subject,27 and apparently always with approval and without any doubts about its authenticity. Let us look at the longer passage that has the Expanded Chest, the passage that contains the same line quoted by the abbot of Dorjedrak. After [those initiation rites] perform the enthronement offerings. To each and every icon offer the eight [auspicious] substances and the seven different [insignia of royalty]. Perform the request, with great majesty, for auspiciousness. Offer the Expanded Chest and other auspicious substances. If [the offerings] are many you will receive worldly virtues. Read and recite (gyer ba) many times the twelve deeds of a Buddha, the Three Precious, and the [names of the] five types of Tathāgatas, [thereby] performing the 28 ‘face warming’.

26 See Dung dkar Rin po che (2002:870). Atiśa’s tea tasting took place over 600 years before the first tea tasting in England. 27 See Bentor (1996:16). 28 rjes la mnga' gsol rten kun la // rdzas brgyad sna bdun dbul ba dang // bkra shis byin cher gsol ba ni // 'brang rgyas la sogs bkra shis rdzas // mang la 'jug rten dge ba dang // mdzad pa bcu gnyis dkon mchog gsum // rigs lnga la sogs mang po ni // bklag dang gyer bas zhal bsro bya (p.515). The word zhal bsro, here translated as “face warming”, is an older and less common word for the consecration ritual. This term occurs, for example, in a Dunhuang cave inscription (in the past form, zhal bsros), as found in Imaeda (2007), p.94, n.4. We find it in Dunhuang texts, as for example in IOL Tib J 751. Zhal bsro is a common word for consecration in the consecration texts found by Shenchen Luga (on these texts see Changngoba, et al. 2003:137–41). But the word is also found in the Vinaya Sūtra, in a translation that

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Here the Expanded Chest is employed in a particular rite that occurs near the end of the main part of the complex consecration ritual. This passage uses somewhat unexpected terminology,29 besides the ‘face warming’ word it also uses the word gyerwa (gyer ba) for “chanting” that is only rarely to be found except in reference to Bön religion. In fact, we sometimes find gyerwa used as an explanation for what the word Bön means.30 I’d love to go into a discussion of the charu (bya ru), which means “bird horns”, that appears here as a part of the stûpa in the line, “The bird horns are [symbolic of] method and wisdom”.31 But this would be too much of a distraction. Generally speaking, most non-Bönpos do not even know what bird horns are, which makes it all the more a mystery how they would show up in a text by Atiśa.32

ought to belong to the Imperial Period. I heard an explanation by Sangye Tenzin Jongdong, abbot of Bönpo Monastic Centre, Dolanji, some years ago. It was he who suggested to me that “heart warming” would be a more appropriate way to express the idea in English. For a lexical source, see bTsan lha (1997:767). For instances of its usage, see the sBa gSal snang (1982), pp.39, 56f., 59 & 79. For further references, including explanations of the auspicious substances mentioned by Atiśa, see Bentor (1996), p.296ff. & 321, at n.517). 29 I made note of some of these vocabulary items in a footnote in Martin (2001), p.88 and n.18. 30 This association between Bön priests and gyer [ba] chanting is also found in a Dunhuang document, Pelliot tib. 1042, which is concerned with royal funerary rituals. Another example of their juxtaposition, with reference to the post-imperial times, is in the mKhas pa'i dga' ston (dPa' bo 1986:424): dgra bcom gtsug phud can gyi chos lugs dang // sngags la sgrub gzhung bon du gyer pa byung // dka' bas bsgrubs pa'i dam chos bsnubs pa las // rje 'bangs kun la dkon mchog dbu yogs byung. A much longer discussion would seem to be required, since Bön glossaries often accept gyer to be a Zhang-zhung word that corresponds to Tibetan bon. R.A. Stein (1971:238 ff.) insists on the contrary, that it is a Tibetan-language word. In actual usage in the Zhang zhung text of the mDzod phug (including the very title of the text) however, the Zhang zhung gyer corresponds to Tibetan gshen, and not to bon. The later Bön glossaries are equivocal, sometimes equating gyer with gshen, and sometimes with bon, in either case regarding it as Zhang zhung. 31 In the same work by Atiśa, at p.514. An article on bya ru, and the Bya ru can kings who wore them, has now appeared, written by Roberto Vitali (2008). 32 I know of only a few other non-Bönpo instances—in an early history of the Nyingma school and in a biography of rGod tshang pa mGon po rdo rje (1189–1258 AD) for examples—and may perhaps go into this in more detail in a more appropriate place. I wrote a brief chapter on the subject in my doctoral dissertation that has not been published. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 173

So we may say that, apparently, Sakya Pandita was wrong. The Expanded Chest has to be an Indian cultural object since it is found in a translation of an Indic text. But just one moment, that may be precisely the point. It is found in a Tibetan translation of an Indic text. The Indic text itself is quite unlikely to turn up in any archive or archaeological excavation, and meanwhile all we can say is that Gya (rGya), the native of western Tibet, used it as a way of translating something he found in the Sanskrit. He was familiar with the Tibetan object, and believed it was sufficiently close to the Indian object. Indications would seem to be that he was the kind of translator who did not mind making culturally appropriate translations, wanting the text to be understood by persons without the extensive knowledge of the Indian world that he himself must have possessed. This idea requires more thought, and meanwhile one ought to take into consideration the many other translations of his that have survived. Atiśa and Padampa Sanggyé had their Indianness in common, although Atiśa was a Bengali and Padampa most likely lived his childhood years in a coastal area of Andhra, near the place where the Krishna River empties into the Indian Ocean. Atiśa spent the last 12 years of his life in Tibet. Padampa not only spent the last 20 years of his life in Tibet, but he had already spent two lengthy periods in Tibet beforehand in his younger years, plenty of time to cultivate a rich knowledge of Tibetan language and culture, and he demonstrates this knowledge over and over again.33 Not quite the celebrity Atiśa was, he nevertheless was famed as a spiritual teacher of the Great Sealing (Mahāmudrā) attracting people from all over the Tibetan plateau who came to Tingri and formed a close community. His death date is usually given as 1117, although I am now favoring the year 1105. The passage that follows was quite difficult to translate and some small parts of it even now resist interpretation. Still, the first part, telling how Padampa prepared the altar for a tsen (btsan) ritual is clear enough, and this is the relevant part here. It does use some

33 In recent years I have delivered two lectures dealing directly with the nature and degree of Padampa’s Tibetan enculturation. One is entitled, “Ethnicity as an Issue for the Circle of Padampa Sanggyé at Tingri Langkor”, a paper delivered in 2001 (Martin unpublished). The other is “Padampa’s Animal Metaphors and the Question of Indian-ness (Theirs and His)” (Martin 2008). 174 DAN MARTIN strange terminology that forces us to turn to accounts of modern cults of protective deities, in particular two books by John Bellezza and René von Nebesky-Wojkowitz. In general it is a fault in methodology to use the present to make sense of the past. In this case we have little choice. Still, I think that there is very little difference between the ritual done by Padampa and rituals done today in remote parts of western Tibet by nomadic or village mediums, such as those studied by Bellezza. Some of the ritual items such as the three-jointed willow staff are still associated with the tsen deities. The unclear passages may make it difficult to understand Padampa’s motives in performing the ritual, even while it is clearly and fundamentally out of synch with his usual interests. That is to say, he employs worldly things, like this this-worldly ritual, going far out of his way to make a point about meditative experiences (nyams myong) and the ultimate experience of non-duality called realisation (rtogs pa). He was out of sympathy with the usual aims of social life, business, governance, devotional religion, religious practices motivated by desire for merit. And he expected the same from his students, calling on them to renounce ordinary worldly concerns.

215.3 lan cig gi dus su dam pa'i zhal One time Padampa said, “Yekhyen nas / <> Awakening (Bodhi). But you have gsungs par gda' bas / not been granted the vision of how that might be so”. der khos phying kar gyi steng du So right there he prepared on a 'brang rgyas dang / lha nas dang / piece of white felt an Expanded sman le [~leb?] rnams bshams nas Chest ('brang rgyas), divine bar- g.yon du bzhag / ley,35 and a bundle of herbs and placed them on the left side.36

34 Her name is sometimes spelled 'Bre sgom, sometimes 'Bro sgom. She appears several times in the Zhijé Collection (II 186, IV 115, V 145–51). In general, she is said to have suffered a great deal from “disturbances” (or “impediments” or “obstacles”, bar chad). In one story, she recited a mantra aloud in a public place, and this breach of the vows of secrecy was blamed for an epidemic that killed at least one member of the community. So it would seem she was one of the most difficult cases among Padampa’s students, just as the story implies. 35 Lha nas. See Bellezza (2005:209). RITUAL INDIGENISATION 175 thang kar gyi dang ru dang mda' bya On the right side he assembled a rgod ma / sba lcag tshigs gsum / 'phrul lammergeier’s collarbone,37 a vul- gyi me long rnams g.yas su bsogs / ture feather arrow,38 a three-jointed willow cane, and a magic mirror.39 dar kar gyi gur du spos kar [~dkar] Inside a tent of white cotton he gyi dud pa btang / sen dar gyi thod made to smoke some sal tree resin 'go la bcings / dri [~gri] bseg skags incense. He bound to his head a rgyad [~gyad? gyang?] la btsugs / turban of sen cloth.40 He stuck the grinding-stone into his long sash.

36 In the broadest sense, it is plain to see that here on the left side of the altar were placed objects representing prosperity, nourishment and health. On the right side, were placed objects of movement and power. In the case of the magic mirror, perhaps divination is the original motive. Mirror divination is part of the general treatment on Tibetan divination systems in Lama Chime Radha Rinpoche (1981). These mirrors are worn like breastplates by Tibetan mediums. They often have a ‘seed syllable’ inscribed at the center that forms the basis for the generation of the deities. For more discussion, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:411). And for a more general discussion of the use of the mirror in Tibetan rituals, see Yael Bentor (1995). Even the Kālacakra Tantra knows of divinations using mirrors, so Indic origins of the practice are by no means necessarily excluded. See Giacomella Orofino (1994). 37 Thang dkar gyi dang ru. On the significance of the lammergeier, see Bellezza (2005), see index under thang dkar. The dang ru of an owl is mentioned in a different ritual context in the Zhijé Collection (V 142). 38 I take this to be a reference to the usual type of arrow used in rituals like this one, the mda' dar, or “cloth [decorated] arrow”. Nowadays at least, it usually has five differently colored ribbons attached to it. 39 On the three-jointed willow cane, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:329), where a cane-stick with three whorls (sba lcag chog gsum) is an attribute of the “enemy gods” (dgra lha). But see especially Bellezza (2005), pp.116, 117, at n.108, for an account by a modern medium that includes a description of gNyan chen Thang lha— one of the mountain deities invoked by Padampa about 900 years earlier—in which he holds a three-jointed sba lcag (here interpreted to mean the cane horsewhip). The bamboo used in making the ceremonial arrow (mda' dar) may be said to have “three flawless joints” (see Khenrap 2000:71). Since the equivalence occurs in the Mahāvyutpatti (No.4217), it is usual to equate sba (or sba shing) with Sanskrit vetra, which is often understood to be the Calamus rotang, source of rattan cane. However even in the Sanskrit there are problems with this identification, and it could very well mean the willow according to Helen M. Johnson (1944). The willow is more likely to be growing in Tibetan highlands. On the magic mirror, see see Nebesky- Wojkowitz (1993:31). 40 On spos dkar, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:430). Since I have no clear-cut or even credible explanation for what sen cloth might be, I will just say that Sendel is a Middle English word for linen. For the linen turban used by priests, see Ezekiel 44:18. The send in Sendel is explained as a deformation of Sindh, a word for India,

176 DAN MARTIN g.yab dar lag tu thogs te / g.ya' ri Taking the ‘waving cloth’,41 in his dang gangs ri la gnas pa'i / btsan hand, he repeated the divine rgod dregs pa can sku lha ge sar / invocation (lha bdar) three times gnyan chen thang la / snying 'brom for the spirits, the fierce and mili- btsan po / gha btsan sum cu / zhang tant tsen (btsan) spirits42 who live 'bro rje la sogs pa rnams la / lha bdar in slate mountains and glacier lan gsum du bskyar bas mountains, including the Sku lha Ge sar, gNyan chen Thang la, sNying 'brom bTsan po,43 Gha btsan Sum cu, Zhang 'Bro rje44 and still others.45 [216] 'dre ma mthong nas / nyid cag But the ghost was still not seen... la 'dre mi snod par brda'i byas par gda' ba la /

although it is well known that flax was grown for making linen in very ancient times in Egypt. 41 g-Yab dar. This means the cloth attached to the phur pa or other ritual object. It could also be understood as a polishing cloth. See Yablonsky (1997:1095). 42 The word “spirit” is inserted here only to help make the English make better sense. Indeed, it is difficult to decide whether to call entities such as the tsen “spirits” or “gods”, since they are one or the other or both. 43 This name recurs in the same volume of the Zhijé Collection (V 378 line 7), prefaced by the term sKu lha. It is the “heart” (snying) mountain associated with the just-mentioned mountain gNyan chen Thang lha and its deity of the same name. It is called sNying ri, “Heart Mountain”, in fact, because it represents the heart of gNyan chen Thang lha. See Bellezza (1997:28). 44 This could refer to one or another of the members of the 'Bro clan who served as Zhang (maternal uncle) ministers to the Tibetan imperial court. See Dotson (2004). Of course it may not be entirely coincidental that this 'Bro clan is the same one to which this 'Bro sgom evidently belonged. Perhaps most likely our Zhang 'Bro rje ought to be identified with Kho ma 'Bro rje, who plays a cosmogonic role in an account of the origin of kingship (Karmay 1994:416). 45 This ought to be compared to the different list of nine primary Tibetan mountain gods studied by Samten Karmay (1996), to which we should also add a partial listing of the nine in a 12th-century work by 'Bri gung Chos rje (1969–71), Vol.4, p.420). After saying how Buddhists should not take refuge in Hindu gods, 'Bri gung Chos rje adds that neither should they take refuge in Tibetan mountain deities who are [supposedly] creators of existence, either. He says, “sa bla ba srid pa chags pa'i lha dgu / thang la ya zhur / yar la sham po / 'od de gung rgyal”. Only three of the nine mountain deities are named here. For more on this set of mountain deities, see Xie (2001). RITUAL INDIGENISATION 177 yang dam pa'i zhal nas / <> gsungs pas / have a good look”.46 der gser skyems47 su rin po che brdar That said, he did the wrathful peti- gsol ka [~gsol kha] drag po byas te / tion, filing the precious substances into the Golden Drink offering. yang lha brdar byas pas / <> zer skad // that does injury to her. How that is I have no idea”. de la yun ring bar bzhad nas / dam After laughing at that for a long pa'i zhal nas / <<'bro sgom byang time, Padampa said, “You have chub thob tu mi ster ba'i 'dre ru clearly seen that the ghost that does gzung 'dzin gnod pa khyod kyis ce re not permit 'Bro sgom to attain mthong / ye mkhyen na sta sta 'o cig Awakening is the harm [done to 'dug go // her] by subject-object dichotomies...... 50

46 I suppose this could also be translated “It is fine for now, but have a look at the results of the divination (mo)”. Or, more simply, “But now have a good (careful) look!” 47 For concise explanations of gser skyems, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:401) as well as Kretschmar & Kretschmar (2006). In a traditional way of preparing the Golden Drink offering, a metal rod made of five metals is filed with a file allowing some of the shavings to fall into the drink. This goes toward explaining why Padampa needed to prepare for the ritual by placing a whetstone in his sash, although a file would have made more sense, perhaps. 48 Shed spirits are parasitic in the sense that they feed off the energy of the bla, making it weak, which they are able to do especially after death. Exorcising the shed is an important part of many funerary rites. The Hebrew word for “ghost” (as in ghost of the dead) as well as “evil spirit” is shed. It is believed that this Hebrew word was borrowed from an Akkadian word used for benevolent protective spirits, shedu, often depicted as winged bulls. Of course, just because words are identical in form and similar in meaning is no proof they must be borrowings or cognates. Still, I find the close correspondence worthy of note. 49 The mention of blacksmiths may imply connections more generally with their magical powers and dangers associated with their craft, or more specifically with the deity Mgar ba nag po. On them, see Hummel (1997) and Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:154–9). Mgar ba nag po means “Black Blacksmith”. He is supposed to be portrayed with tools of his trade—bellows, hammer and a piece of iron—but there is no mention of tongs. 50 For the passage I’ve omitted at this point, Kalsang Norbu Gurung suggested

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'dre 'di da bogs kho cig pu la snod and this ghost does injury not only par ma zad / byang chub 'dod pa'i mi to her but to every person who tsam la 'di gnod pas / 'dre dang ma desires Awakening. A person who bral ba'i myi la [s]kyid myed>> is not free of ghosts is not happy”. gsung skad.51

This natively Tibetan ritual, performed by a Tibet-acculturated Indian, is undertaken with invocations to local Tibetan deities of mountains called the tsen (btsan).52 Tsen deities ought to be visualised as body-armored horseback riders moving swiftly across the Tibetan plateau carrying banners and weapons. Only two of Padampa’s tsen deities are very well known, another was possible to identify, while the rest of them are entirely obscure. The term kulha (sku lha)53 is also used for one or more of them, which is interesting, since this term is used in Old Tibetan times to mean the personal deity attached to the Emperor, responsible for keeping his health. Although perhaps best left untranslated, the two syllables mean “body” (in an honorific form) and “deity”. It refers to the godling that protected the body of the Emperor, and formed a ritual focus for the imperial cult. Without its help the welfare of the empire would be threatened. The priests responsible for this were the Kushen (sKu gshen), known from both Bön and Chö (Chos) histories, and at least the translation “Yekhyen just kept looking”. 51 This text is transcribed from the Zhijé Collection (V 215f.). The larger work of which it forms a part would have been written by rTen ne, one of the main lineage holders among Padampa’s followers in the Zhijé tradition, sometime in the decades before or after the year 1200. 52 For a description of the tsen, see especially Todd Gibson’s entire dissertation (1991), the iconographic discussion starts at p.209), Blondeau (2008), especially pp.227–30, and Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1993:175). For an account of a modern cult of a tsen spirit in Bhutan, which until recent years included an annual bull sacrifice, see Tandin Dorji (2008). Also, see the general discussion about various types of spirits at the end of Tucci (1999:717–30). 53 The different spellings sku lha and sku bla would not seem to be a matter for great concern. See W. South Coblin (1991:320). See also Stein (1983) pp.164 and 200f, and Btsan lha (1997:33). There are especially valuable discussions by Todd Gibson (1991), p.35, n.21 and pp.150ff. The 2nd edict of Khri srong lde btsan, explicitly points out the incompatibility between the “old religion of Tibet”, (bod kyi chos rnying pa) with its propitiation of the sku lha, and the rituals of Buddhism. See the translation of this passage in Gibson (1991:149–51), with its citations earlier translations, and also, more recently, Kapstein (2000:53). RITUAL INDIGENISATION 179 one Dunhuang document (Pelliot 1042), on imperial funerary rites, where the term occurs 22 times. Most Tibetanists will be very surprised to see the Tibetan national epic hero Gesar (Ge sar) qualified as a Kushen, and placed first in a list of tsen spirits. But I believe the 12th century is very likely to be the time when the Tibetan epic began to coalesce on the basis of a number of earlier elements. For the Tamang shamans in Nepal today known as Bombo, Gesar does indeed stand at the very top of the hierarchy of tsen spirits and serves as their “king” (rgyal po). However interesting it may be to trace how the name of Caesar ended up in Tibet, this is another subject for another essay.54 It would be interesting to discuss at length the role the tsen spirits, in particular a set of seven given various names such as Yawa Kya Chig (Ya ba Kya Cig), might play in the origin narratives of Bön in Tibet, since it was in pursuit of the seven horses they stole from him that Lord Shenrab first visited the Tibetan plateau and founded Bön Mountain (Bon-ri) as a holy place and Silver Fort (rNgul mkhar)55 according to the Abbreviated Scripture. But this is just the area of study that Henk Blezer and Kalsang Norbu Gurung of Leiden have been working on for several years now, so I will leave it for them to come up with conclusions.56 Before my conclusion, I do want to mention just two more instances of dranggyé.

54 On the meaning of Gesar and tsen spirits for the Tamang Bombo, see Holmberg (1983 & 2006) and Peters (1982), see especially p.27, where one may see the position of “Ghesar Gyalpo” graphically represented as enthroned and radiant above and beyond the nine heavens (but this is, explicitly, a chart made by the ethnographer as a heuristic device to explain to us the cosmology of the Tamang Bombo; it is not a traditional representation). See Peters (1998:91) for an account of an initiatory vision by the Bombo Bhirendra in which he climbs a golden staircase with nine steps and beholds Ghesar Gyalpo at the top seated on a white throne. Even though the modern Tamangs and Padampa are widely separated in time, they are actually not very far apart in space. 55 I see no reason to take the rngul (“sweat”) reading seriously. It means “silver” regardless of the spelling. 56 For a study of the more recent developments in Tibetan ideas about the location of Khyung lung rNgul mkhar, we have Blezer (2007). For the older developments we will have to look forward to the forthcoming books. 180 DAN MARTIN

The first is a very special one.57 Of course it is entirely Buddhist in its general framework, but it involves making an image of an elephant and inviting an actual divine elephant from the Land of the Thirty-three Gods to descend and dissolve into the statue. This elephant is not anywhere specifically identified with Ganesh (or Gaṇapati), however much we might expect it to be because of the other texts surrounding it.58 This elephant is not the famous divine character of Indian myth. It is the elephant among the Seven Precious Things that pertain to a ‘Wheel Turning’ King.59 The context of use of the dranggyé here is not particularly interesting. It comes near the end, in association with the request for auspiciousness (maLgala), only confirming what we have come to expect from other contexts. What is even more interesting and surprising it makes use of the quite rare word muyé (dmu yad) twice.60 This very word appears in the autobiographical account of Shenchen Luga, and caused me a degree of grief during my dissertation research.

57 Tibetan title: Glang po rin po che la nor blang ba'i man ngag. This was translated into English by Wilkinson (1991). I have made use of the version that appears as text No.2976 in the Golden Manuscript Tanjur, sponsored by the Tibetan ruler Pho lha nas (1689–1747 AD, regent from 1728–47) in the 1730’s. It is available to me thanks solely to the Tibetan Buddhism Research Center (New York City) and the kindness of E. Gene Smith. In order to access this digital text, go to the website of the Tibetan Buddhism Research Center (http://www.tbrc.org) and locate resource No.W23702. This particular title was not located in the Derge Tanjur, although it is in the Peking Tanjur (text No.4971). 58 Besides the canonical set in the Golden Manuscript Tanjur, there have been a few paracanonical collections of Tibetan Ganeśa texts. One might note also the Ganeśa texts in Chinese studied and translated in Duquenne (1988), with thanks to Jonathan Silk, Leiden, for bringing this publication to my attention. 59 1. Precious Wheel. 2. Precious Jewel. 3. Precious Queen. 4. Precious Householder. 5. Precious Elephant. 6. Precious Best Horse. 7. Precious Army General ('khor lo rin po che / nor bu rin po che / btsun mo rin po che / khyim bdag rin po che / glang po rin po che / rta mchog rin po che / dmag dpon rin po che'o)— dKon mchog 'jigs med dbang po (1992:87). For an article entirely devoted to the subject, see Govinda (1969). The horse and the elephant at least may have something to do with the ‘divine election’ of Indian kings, on which see Edgerton (1913). 60 For the passage in the autobiography of Shenchen Luga, see Martin (1991:59). Stein (2003), p.579, n.58, has an interesting discussion and supplies the page reference to the occurrence in the Mdzod phug commentary. There are three occurrences of the word in Dunhuang documents according to Dagkar (2002:430). See also Snellgrove (1980:210, 305), where the English translation “zest” is recommended. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 181

“What could be more Indian than a sādhana text devoted to the cult of the elephant in order to get rich and have a big family?” is a question that might come to mind. There were no live elephants on the high Tibetan plateau until the 13th Dalai Lama’s zoo acquired one in the first decade of the 20th century. Well, when we look more closely at the text we see that besides mentioning the filing of the five kinds of precious substances just as we find in the Golden Drink rite, there is mention of the “fur of both the male and the female yak” to be placed along with quite a few other empowering substances inside the elephant statue. The fur of the hybrid animal Tibetans know as the dzo (mdzo), along with the fur of the mule, we are told, should not be used for this purpose. Finally, reaching the end of the text we discover in the colophon the identity of the author. It was written by none other than Nāgārjuna, the 1st century AD founder of the Madhyamaka school of Buddhist philosophy...61 And finally, rushing ahead to the conclusion, I’ll just mention that the dranggyé is mentioned in at least one of the Tibetan manuscripts from Dunhuang. I will just say about this text, mostly devoted to dice divination, that the dranggyé appears in the ritual section at the beginning, in the deity invocation, where it is one of the food offerings to the divine beings.62 There is nothing surprising in this.

61 This text, since it violates the ‘standard yak test’, would automatically be thrown into the category of Tibetan-made apocryphal text by many scholars, both modern and traditional. I have made arguments against the general applicability of this yak test in an unpublished paper about the animal metaphors used by Padampa (Martin 2008). The simplest argument against it is just the easily demonstrated fact that the yak was an animal well known to Indian literature. 62 IOL Tib J 739. I used the published version of the Old Tibetan Documents Online (Imaeda et al. 2007:315–34), as well as the digital version available on the OTDO website. F.W. Thomas studied this text long ago (1957:141–50), although he did not translate the first part, finding it too difficult. It is true that some of the vocabulary is simply obscure, and translation efforts are somewhat complicated by the Old Tibetan poetic style. The deities to whom offerings, including the 'brang rgyas, are made, are called sman (a word that ordinarily means “herb” or “medicine”, although it is also known as the name of a type of spirit). Here the food offerings also include quadrangular offering cakes (bshos [bu]) in place of the triangular ones mentioned by Sakya Pandita. The food offerings are made together with drink offerings (skyems), just as we might expect. Thomas took note of the fact that this text also mentions Khyung lung rNgul mkhar, the Silver Fort of Garuda Valley (“khyung lung ni rngul mkhar”), a place that assumed great importance in Bön religious history. Here are the relevant lines (Thomas 1957:144): sman bshos ni gru bzhi dang / 'brang rgyas ni zhal kar dang / gzhib mar ni 'ol kon dang / skyems

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Even during the time I was writing this essay, yet another interesting occurrence of dranggyé was located, by Kalsang Norbu Gurung (Leiden), in a likely 12th-century manuscript of a ritual that has to do with the Bön religion.63 Now a few words about terminology on the way to a conclusion: There are a number of reasons religious MIXINGS of various sorts might happen. Nativist reaction to the introduction of a foreign or universalist religion such as Buddhism is certainly one of the situations in which mixings do take place. But even here I believe we have to be careful to distinguish between mixings that happen because of simple unconscious continuity and mixings that result from conscious intent. Or, to state this in what may be a simpler way, we have to think in terms of conscious human agency as well as its absence. Some sort of religion ‘contact zone’ may be presumed in every case. But the more specific arenas of contact differ. The contact could be physical or perceptual, through writings, public or private teachings and conversations, and even perhaps especially within the thoughts of individuals. We do not have to follow old style religious studies terminology, struggling to rehabilitate that tired catch-all “syncretism”. Neither do I personally want to employ the rhetoric of contamination, interpolation, naturalisation and appropriation.64 We do not need to necessarily follow those kinds of anthropologists who often practically treat adaptation or assimilation of foreign matter as a natural, even biological process that carries on with its business just the same on the socio-cultural level—always entirely in the service of survival. Assuming that it is all about survival might cause us to overlook, or deny the power of, other possible motivations. kyi ni bcud drangs shas [~nas?] / sman gi ni zhal du gsol. The obscure word 'ol kon appears in the Gzi brjid (Snellgrove 1980, pp.30 and 308), a Bön text, where it is also, as in the Dunhuang text, clearly a food offering of the same general type as the Expanded Chest. 63 Glang ru (2008), p.10, l.10): gur nag po phub la / / dpral gyi gdong sngur du / 'brang rgyas phyed dkar phyed gnag dang / chang phud ma nyams pa dang... Here the Expanded Chest is included among food offerings. As usual, these are followed immediately by drink offerings. It is also supposed to be half white and half dark. (The word gnag, which occurs in the very title of the text, has other meanings besides “dark”, including “close relative[s]” and “livestock”.) 64 The words “assimilation” and “adaptation” are in any case too useful to dispense with, and they don’t carry much if any emotional weight. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 183

And I think besides mixings, which means internalising external elements, REFRAMINGS of older religious complexes, at various levels of complexity, are very significant reactions within religion contact zones. True, reframings are just one type of mixing, but I believe it is anyway important enough to stand on its own. Reframing may mean little more than finding a (more than likely subordinate) place for those items from other religious cultures in the scheme of things, which is what we usually mean by ‘accommodation’. But reframing can go both ways. Things might be reframed in an effort to make them more acceptable to the other religious culture. During recent decades we have seen how Tibetan ritual practices like the cham ('cham) dances by monks are being reframed as “healing dances”.65 The forms of Buddhas in visualisation practices are no longer referred to in many English-language oral presentations as “deities” but have now become “angels”. This places the practices themselves within a different level altogether, in effect reframing them. Of course we can argue that the shift to “healing” and “angels” reflects ecumenical or just more general cultural trends, not necessarily even religious ones. The reframing in these particular cases has a softening effect, making things more palatable, less likely to offend or provoke negative reactions from the surrounding culture. Like humans in many types of circumstances, this is done out of a desire for acceptance and fear of rejection by the people around them. And as contradictory as this may sound, I think that if we are to understand mixings and reframings as part of a larger historical- cultural process, we simply must include REJECTIONS as part of that process. 66 This may mean an overall rejection involving strong polemical reaction against the other religion as a whole. It may also mean rejection of particular elements of the other religion. Of course if rejection were total and totally effective, this would bring an end to any process of exchange that had been taking place. But let us back away from large-order generalisation, which anyway is not intended to supply anything like a full description of

65 See Schrempf (1997). 66 I freely confess to being inspired by the Tibetan term spang blang. Like other antonym compounds in Tibetan, it may be understood as an abstract noun meaning something like “the whole realm of possibilities located on a continuum ranging from total rejection to total acceptance”. 184 DAN MARTIN the process, just to mark a couple of points along a spectrum. We will keep using those three terms: mixings, reframings and reject- tions. I momentarily prefer these over other possible terms because I think they are relatively free of moral and emotional associations that so often come into play, provoking our own culture-based responses of acceptance and rejection. The conditions in pre-Mongol period Tibet are not replicable. There are far too many variables for anyone to control. That is one thing. For another, although I usually see myself as specialising in 11th–12th century Tibet without any special sectarian or disciplinary focus, I do not know very much about it yet. I have not learned enough. Oh, and a third thing, scholarship is part of the process, not just natively Tibetan scholarship along more or less traditional lines, but contemporary cosmopolitan Tibetology as well. If you will allow me a slightly more judgmental way of putting it, scholarship is part of the problem, even especially when it does its job of trying to solve the problems it poses to itself. As an example of this we would have to include the question, “Did the Expanded Chest have its origin in India or Tibet?” Sakya Pandita was by no means the first or the only person to insist on Indian authenticity, but he was particularly strong in his position on the importance of correct and pure Buddhism free of extraneous admixtures, fabrications or defects of any kind. He insisted that even different Vehicles within Buddhism had to be kept true to themselves without mixing one with the other. For him, this mixture would be a very serious sin.67 In polemical works before his time, the main concern had been with establishing which scriptures and commentaries were authentically Indian in their origins. Sakya Pandita expanded that concern to include questions of rituals, relics, miracles, terminology and the like. Very literally speaking, miracles should not happen in Tibet unless they had prior authorisation from Indian Buddhist texts. Hence while Sakya Pandita as an Indologist is one of our primary witnesses for the idea that mixing was going on, he is also our prime example of a scholar holding theoretical positions that entailed the rejection of mixings. And I would add, he forms a very sympathetic figure for modern religious studies aca- demics with their insistence on philological exactitude reflected in

67 Sakya Pandita (2002), p.158, v.478. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 185 their opposition to (= their strong tendency to condemn or ignore) syncretism. For contrast we should look for a moment to a person like Lama Zhang, who preceded Sakya Pandita by a generation or two. He was not a ritual perfectionist. In fact he believed, based on some personal experiences of his, that rituals could be effective even if done without knowledge of their procedures. And he did not especially value Indian-ness as a measure of authenticity. We have him saying such things as, “For those who are converted through Indian texts, we have Indian texts. For those who are converted through Tibetan texts, we have Tibetan texts. Do not say, ‘Tibetan teachings are impure’”.68 It is clear to me at least that Lama Zhang would have welcomed Tibetan elements in rituals, but only for pragmatic reasons, only if they were likely to contribute to the results. I might add, basing myself on Lama Zhang’s formulation, that for local deities of Tibet, we have Tibetan food offerings, in particular offerings of the Tibetan staple food barley. For local deities of India, we would have offerings of local Indian foods, and perhaps needless to say, barley was not put on offer there.69 If we look back at all the examples, it is clear that, with likely exception of the unidentified persons mentioned by the abbot of Dorjedrak who had labeled the Expanded Chest as “Bönpo”, Sakya Pandita the Indologist is the only one who explicitly rejected it. Its appearance in an Indian text by Atiśa might be explained as a culturally determined vocabulary choice by the Tibetan translator, or

68 See Martin (2001:202) for the Tibetan text. Of course the word 'dul ba here translated as “converting” could equally be translated as “taming” or “civilising” or “subduing”. And, like the Sanskrit vinaya it translates, it might just mean “educating”. And in a special usage of the term, it is used for the forceful transformation of resistant local spirits into protectors of Buddha Dharma. 69 DeCaroli (2004:24), lists typical offerings made to yakNa spirits. While we do find paddy and husked rice among these offerings, there is not one single grain of barley. It is perhaps worthy of mention, too, that Tibetan exiles in India nowadays very commonly substitute rice in ritual situations in which they would certainly have used barley in Tibet. This is true, for example, in the case of the grains thrown up into the air in consecration rituals, themselves being a ritual substitution for flowers (Bentor 1996, p.114 and n.118). These kinds of ritual substitutions might be considered on more or less the same level as those that took place in Materia medica as Indian medicine became established in Tibet. Often there is no choice but to use the available local product. 186 DAN MARTIN an artifact of the translation process. Its use in a particular ritual by the Indian Padampa can be explained as yet another sign among many of Padampa’s personal mastery of Tibetan cultural forms. Each of these usages has to be understood on its own terms before making them participate in generalisations. So my general conclusion is that the dranggyé is very likely to be an indigenous ritual item, one that was and is used primarily as a food offering for local deities in domestic and life-cycle types of rituals. That means marriages and housewarmings in contemporary Ladakh and western Tibet, and some of the other examples we have seen. But there is a further example of it being found acceptable for use in funeral rituals in a text by the reputed founder of the Drigung Kagyü school that must predate Sakya Pandita’s comments by a few decades.70 When we do find it in various Buddhist rituals, including those of impeccably Indian origins, it is within specific ritual sequences that have to do either with the local protectors or with auspiciousness. We should not indulge in fantasies that the dranggyé had a mind of its own. That would be a prime example of the pathetic fallacy. We should not praise the dranggyé for putting up a heroic resistance to the invading religion. We should not condemn it for giving in, for allowing itself to fall into the service of a new master. I also think it would be a mistake to assert that it entered into Buddhist rituals because someone made a sectarian-motivated decision on the matter. Or at least we ought to admit that this is an assumption, since there is no evidence of it happening, at least not before Sakya Pandita’s Indological rejectionism. My view is that the Expanded Chest was such a wide-spread ritual offering, known to every household, that it would have been only natural for it to fall or glide into ritual contexts where its presence would be particularly appropriate. It might therefore be a mistake to regard the presence of indigenous elements in Buddhist rituals to be part of any ‘nativistic reaction’ just as much as it might be a mistake to regard them as objects that Buddhists wanted to deliberately ‘appropriate’ for Buddhist purposes.

70 'Bri gung Chos rje (1969–71:III 66f). Of course this rather difficult 12th- century passage deserves close study as part of a history of Tibetan funeral rites. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 187

Whenever Tibetanists hear statements about how pristinely rational Indian Buddhism entered Tibet only to be (at this point please insert a long, drawn-out sigh) ‘corrupted by the primitive animism71 of Bön’, we make a silent prayer that we will never again have occasion to hear such grossly polemical over-simplifications. It is just so difficult and complicated to identify natively Tibetan elements in rituals of Bön, just as it is to locate them within the various strands of Tibetan Buddhism. We could see in the case of the Expanded Chest that, even after years of collecting the evidence scattered here and there, it can be difficult to be impressively certain of any conclusion at all. Still, I in any case believe it to be both domestic and local, a Tibetan cultural production. Even those who have most carefully followed the tortuous trails we’ve been made to follow may not be persuaded that my conclusion is justified by the evidence. It may depend in part on my way of reading my way around the evidence. Now, if the tsen are primitive animistic spirits, then so, too (although I am just noting parallels, not equating the two), are the yak@as in India.72 Like the tsen, the yak@as were identified with particular localities (as you can see in Indian Buddhist texts like the Mahāmāyūrī).73 Together with the nāgas, they too could be associated, in India, with hidden treasures.74 So, as far as ‘primitive animism’—whatever is intended by that expression—is concerned, Indian Buddhism had quite analogous domains of rich religious

71 As Gibson (1991:15) points out, the word was coined in 1871 by E.B. Tylor. Its use has since remained surprisingly popular, given how little meaningful information the word conveys. 72 Read Robert DeCaroli’s book (2004), making particular note of the statements on p.144: “In most cases, however, rather than import spirit-deities into new areas, the Buddhist usually sought out gods, ghosts, or spirits that were indigenous to the lands into which they were expanding and then assimilated them into the Buddhist fold. The same method of expansion employed inside India was used outside, as well ...” Of course we could test the degree of conscious intent and planning implied in this statement, and I believe we should do so as far as it is possible, but in general I think this statement is very much on the mark. 73 See Bagchi (1947) and Lévi (1915). 74 See especially Mayer (1997). And see also for example, Norman (1983). The pan-Indian cult of “treasure” (nidhi) and more specifically the Indian Mahāyāna cult of the same is, I believe, necessary background for understanding the Tibetan “treasure” (gter ma) cult. This is not to deny that there may be uniquely Tibetan aspects in it as well. 188 DAN MARTIN meaning of her own. We could argue that the international Buddha Dharma made allowances for local practices as she moved from India to the rest of the world. And, just perhaps, the reason they could tolerate some of these local practices was because Indian Buddhists were already engaging in such practices back in their home localities in India, and these practices, too, had been tolerated. And finally, I want to say that we, the students of Tibet in particular, need to make sufficient space in our minds and thoughts to accommodate Padampa, the Tibetanising Indian; Sakya Pandita, the Indianising Tibetan; and indeed Lama Zhang, the Tibetanising Tibetan. We ourselves, even as Tibetologists in our most academic of roles, often display the tendency to choose between playing the Tibet-nativist or the Indianist. At times, with seemingly little thought on the matter, we even award to one side moral superiority over the other. We do not need to be partisans in order to represent in our studies these competing tendencies and tensions at work in Tibetan history. Would requiring ourselves to be non-partisan and broaden our minds be demanding too much? I don’t think so. Not really. RITUAL INDIGENISATION 189

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JOHANNES BRONKHORST (UNIVERSITY OF LAUSANNE)

The most prominent features of Asian ‘nativism’—the organisers of this symposium point out—are a clash between universalist and local cultural systems, and the resulting revisionist construction of the past, which typically prioritises the aboriginal and the local above the foreign and the universal. Since my paper will deal with Buddhism in its homeland, some of the terms of this general characterisation may need adjustment. But rather than entering into a terminological discussion, I will take out one expression, explore its applicability to Buddhism in India, and investigate from there whether and to what extent it is appropriate to speak of nativism. The expression that I wish to explore is “revisionist construction of the past”. It is my claim that Buddhism in India was subjected—or rather, subjected itself—to such a revisionist construction of its past. It goes without saying that this claim is accompanied by or rather based upon another claim, viz. that I know better than the Buddhists concerned what their past was like. If I did not know this, or at least did not believe that I know this, I could not find fault with the picture of Buddhism’s past that we find in many Buddhist Indian texts. I begin with my second claim. I believe that I have some knowledge of the circumstances in which Buddhism arose. Most particularly, I believe that Buddhism did not arise in Brahmanised surround- ings. Buddhism was no reaction to or revolt against Vedic religion, nor did it take for granted the social order that is characteristic of Brahmanism. Buddhism arose in a region in which Brahmanism had not yet established itself as the dominant ideology. Indeed, the region in which Buddhism arose is also the region in which urbanisation made its second appearance (the first urbanisation being the one of the Indus civilisation), and which saw the rise of the first major empires of India: that of the Nandas followed by that of the Mauryas. The little we know about the various rulers of these empires has one thing in common: none of them showed the slightest inclination to accept Brahmanical ideology. All of them, to the extent we know, 196 JOHANNES BRONKHORST were interested in the religions that arose in the same region as Bud- dhism, viz., Jainism, Ājīvikism, and Buddhism itself. Brahmanism was at that time still confined to a different region, situated toward the west.1 Brahmanism started its spread over the South Asian subcontinent and into Southeast Asia later, often in competition with Buddhism and Jainism. I have argued all of this at length in a book called Greater Magadha (2007). “Greater Magadha” is the term I have chosen for the region in which Buddhism (Jainism and Ājīvikism) arose and that became the centre of the empires just mentioned. I will not dwell on these events, and move on to a period half a millennium later. During the interval—from roughly 400 BC to 100 AD—much had changed in India. Brahmanism had begun its spread over the subcontinent, as had Buddhism. The two were in competition, as I pointed out already, but this competition concerned not just people’s soul but also their wallet (so to say). Both Brahmins and Buddhists solicited material support, from the general public to be sure, but more still from the royal court. The Brahmins had indeed made of the royal court their specialty. They wanted its support in the form of special privileges, tax exemptions and payments in the shape of so-called agrahāras. They could also offer something in return. Being masters of Vedic ritual, they could offer the king and his kingdom ritual protection, i.e. magical protection. On top of that, they had developed a number of skills that no king could do without: they had become experts in predicting the future with the help of astrology, bodily signs, and much else; they had also become experts in political counselling. Brahmanical literature from that period (and from more recent times) contains a lot of advice as to how to be a good Brah- manical king. This advice finds expression in the form of stories (as in the two great Sanskrit epics, the Mahābhārata and the Rāmāya7a), in straightforward laws (such as the Laws of Manu), but also in the Machiavellian manual on statecraft, the Arthaśāstra, attributed to Cāṇakya, who is also known by the name of Kauṭilya (or Kauṭalya).

1 If we were to accept the definition in which civilisation consists of three or more of the following: city dwelling, the use of writing, occupational specialisation, monumental architecture, capital formation (cf. Renfrew, 1973, p.193, and Rudgley, 1999, p.48), we might have to conclude that the region of Brahmanism was without civilisation, whereas the region of Buddhism, Jainism and Ājīvikism had some. BUDDHIST NATIVISM IN ITS HOMELAND 197

What could the Buddhists offer from their side? Surprisingly little. The Buddhists of that period could not offer magical protection the way Brahmins could. They did not engage in predicting the future. And perhaps worst of all, they were not in a position to provide credible political advice. We have some Buddhist texts from the period that purport to give advice to kings, supposedly written by famous authors such as Nāgārjuna and Mātṛceṭa. Even a superficial reading of these texts shows of how little use they were in the real life business of running a state. I will not elaborate, nor give examples. I will just read one verse from Nāgārjuna’s Precious Garland (Ratnāvalī), which says it all (p.148): “However, if from the unrighteousness of the world it is difficult to rule religiously, then it is right for you to become a monastic for the sake of practice and grandeur”. In other words, trying to be a good and virtuous king may turn out to be impossible. In that case the Buddhists have no other advice to offer than that it is time to turn one’s back to the world and become a monk. How did the Buddhists react to this for them unfavourable situation? They were clearly severely hampered in their abilities to compete with Brahmins at the courts. They had no serious political advice to give, no magical protection to offer, no other occult powers that could be used. The Buddhist reaction is as understandable as it is surprising: they left those areas of competence to Brahmins. They created no elaborate rituals that could take the place of Brahmanical ritual. They practised no astrology, and therefore no astronomy and mathematics, so much so that there are no known Buddhist astron- omers and mathematicians in India. And of course, there is no Bud- dhist book on statecraft that could compare and compete with the Arthaśāstra. The Buddhists of that period developed no vision of society of their own, and hesitantly adopted what Brahmanism had to offer in this regard. Buddhists remained recalcitrant toward the Brahmanical claim that the castes (var7a) differed from each other the way animal species differ from each other. This did not prevent them from adopting the caste system for all practical purposes. We even hear of Buddhists who had not, by becoming Buddhists, given up being Brahmins. It is also from around 100 AD onward— precisely the period that we are talking about—that the Buddhists of northern India started using Sanskrit. It may be recalled that Sanskrit was until that time the language used by Brahmins and by no one else. Buddhism had never used it in its history so far. The same 198 JOHANNES BRONKHORST applies to political inscriptions. From their first appearance at the time of Aśoka, they had never been in Sanskrit. Some four centuries later, Sanskrit, so far the exclusive property of Brahmanism, started being used both in political inscriptions and in Buddhism. The changes that I have just sketched had a deep effect on sub- continental Buddhism. These Buddhists came to adopt the view that they lived in an essentially Brahmanical world. We know that—to the extent that this was true—this was the end result of a long development. Those Buddhists themselves did not know this. They had come to look upon society as being Brahmanical not only now, but also in the past and no doubt in the future. This can be verified rather easily where the past is concerned. Stories about the Buddha’s father now started depicting him as a good Brahmanical ruler. In Aśva- ghoṣa’s Buddhacarita, for example, his royal father not only receives Brahmins to pronounce the greatness of his new-born son (this was an old tradition recorded in earlier Buddhist texts),2 he also (and this is new) has the birth ceremony (jātakarman) carried out, and performs Vedic murmurings (japa), oblations (homa) and auspicious rites (maLgala) to celebrate the event, all this followed by a gift of a hundred thousand cows to Brahmins.3 Also, later he pours oblations into the fire and gives gold and cows to Brahmins, this time to ensure a long life for his son.4 He drinks soma as enjoined by the Vedas.5 He performs sacrifices, even though only such as are without violence.6 He has a purohita,7 who is described as “in charge of the sacrifices” (havya...adhikMta).8 All this contrasts sharply with other contemporary biographies of the Buddha. The Mahāvastu, for all its length, has very little to say about Śuddhodana’s accomplishments as a king. And the Lalita- vistara presents him as an ideal Buddhist king, without using any Brahmanical terminology.9 But then these texts were not originally

2 Buddhac 1.31f. 3 Buddhac 1.82f. 4 Buddhac 2.36. 5 Buddhac 2.37. 6 Buddhac 2.49. 7 Buddhac 4.8; 8.82 & 87; 9.1f. 8 Buddhac 10.1. 9 Lal p.26 f.; Lal(V) p.17f. BUDDHIST NATIVISM IN ITS HOMELAND 199 composed in Sanskrit, and had not yet succumbed to the Brahmani- cal way of looking at the world. We see something similar in the collections of stories about former lives of the Buddha. The ideal king in Āryaśūra’s Jātaka- mālā, which was composed in Sanskrit, behaves in accordance with Brahmanical principles. This is best illustrated in those stories in which the Bodhisattva himself is king. In this elevated position he carries out deeds of great liberality and compassion, which move him forward on his path toward Buddhahood. A king, we learn from these stories, pursues, even if he is an exceptionally good king, the three Brahmanical aims of life, the trivarga,10 i.e., virtue (dharma), wealth (artha), and desire (kāma). In case of adversity, he takes advice from the Brahmin elders headed by his purohita.11 He has mastered the essence of the triple Veda and of Brahmanical philosophy,12 has competence in the Vedas along with its Aigas and Upavedas.13 And the result of his perfect rule is that the inhabitants of his kingdom are characterised by love for their own Dharma (svadharma), a Brahmanical concept if ever there was one.14

This is not the occasion to multiply examples. What interests us most at present is that we are face to face with something which may very well deserve to be called “nativism”, but nativism of a special kind. Clearly, we are confronted with a nativistic reconstruction of Bud- dhism’s historically defined identity. Where historically speaking Buddhism was not some kind of new growth on the age-old tree of Brahmanism, it came to present itself in this manner. In many parts of India Buddhism had, historiographically speaking, arrived at the same time as or even before Brahmanism. In spite of that, Buddhists came to believe something different altogether. They came to believe that the Brahmanical pattern of society, with its rules, ideals and also shortcomings, had always been there, even during the earlier lives of the Buddha.

10 Jm(H) p.10, l.8; p.97, l.5; Jm(V) p.7, l.8; p.71, l.1. 11 Jm(H) p.96, l.23; Jm(V) p.70, l.20f.: purohitapramukhān brāhmaQavRddhān [u]pāyaS papraccha. 12 Jm(H) p.75, l.4; Jm(V) p.55, l.4: trayyānvTkNikyor upalabdhārthatattva. 13 Jm p.208, l.1; Jm(V) p.217, l.7f.: sāUgeNu sopavedeNu ca vedeNu vai- cakNaQyam. 14 Jm(H) p.63, l.20; p.75, l.5; Jm(V) p.45, l.25; p.55, l.4. 200 JOHANNES BRONKHORST

How did it come to this? Unlike what appears to have happened in certain other regions of Asia, it may not be appropriate to ascribe all of this to a Brahmanical reaction against Buddhism. It is true that Buddhism had found favour with many political authorities during its early centuries. This began with Aśoka, but there are numerous examples of later rulers who supported Buddhism. There can therefore be no doubt as to the competition that opposed Buddhism and Brahmanism, especially in the political realm. I do think, however, that precisely in this realm, the political realm, Buddhism had been dealt a bad hand right from the beginning, ‘when the cards were shuffled’. Let us not forget that Brahmanism had been a ‘political’ religion right from the outset, a religion which developed and executed rituals primarily for those in power. Brahmanism was by its nature interested in political questions, and had no scruples about the way in which political power should be exerted. Buddhism did not begin as a state religion. Its central message was aimed at people ready to leave society. It imposed upon these real and potential renouncers a morality which was claimed to be valid in principle for everyone, which includes rulers and other power brokers. But rulers, if they wanted to remain rulers, used methods which were in total opposition to the rules to which Buddhist practitioners—all of them, including rulers—were supposed to adhere. This explains that the few Buddhist counsels to kings that we possess are feeble and useless. It does not help a king to be told to give his wealth away and be good. Buddhist mythology tells of a world ruler who conquers the world by following a miraculous wheel that takes him to the ends of the world: all local kings surrender freely and voluntarily. The wheel supposedly manifests itself as a result of the good deeds the king has performed in earlier existences. Once again, this image of conquering the world is of no use to any real king, who will soon discover that his neighbouring kings will oppose his project, whether or not he is accompanied by a miraculous wheel. With regard to the Brahmanical (di-)vision of society, there is another factor to be considered. Brahmanism had a clear view as to the correct stratification of society, its famous var7a-system, distinguishing between Brahmins, Kṣatriyas (warriors, rulers), Vaiśyas and Śūd- ras; numerous subdivisions are added in certain texts. This division was largely or completely theoretical, but it provided a terminology to talk about the inevitable class divisions that existed in society. BUDDHIST NATIVISM IN ITS HOMELAND 201

Buddhism had no alternative scheme. The early Pali texts talk almost exclusively of gahapatis “householders”, without any systematic subdivisions. An exception has to be made for those discourses where the Buddha is presented as discussing with Brahmins: there the four var7as are mentioned and discussed. This illustrates my point. Since only Brahmins had clear ideas about what society should be like, and since only they had a terminology that gave expression to those ideas, all discussions about society had to use Brahmanical terminology. Brahmanism, to use a modern expression, framed the debate. By framing the debate they had already half won it. There is an interesting confirmation of this. We know that the Greeks, unlike other people in the Middle-East, made a clear and absolute distinction between slaves and freemen.15 One was either one or the other, and there were no intermediate stages. What is more, society as a whole was thought of as consisting of just these two. Well, one of the early Buddhist discourses, the Assalāyana Sutta, recognises this fact and mentions the Greeks as the sole exception to the general Brahmanical division of society. Among the Greeks there are only masters and slaves, everywhere else there are the four Brahmanical var7as. This passage shows various things. First of all, it shows that the Assalāyana Sutta, or at least this passage of it, was composed after the conquests of Alexander of Macedonia. More interesting for us at present is that the Brahmanical division of society is imposed upon all with the exception of those who had some clear ideas of their own about how society is stratified. The Greeks had such ideas; all others had not and were therefore condemned to conduct all discussions about society in Brahmanical terms. We know that some Buddhist texts claim the superiority of the Kṣatriyas over the Brahmins. This merely confirms that the discussion had to use Brahmanical terms. Disagreement with the Brahmanical system, too, had to be expressed in Brahmanical terms.

15 See Chakravarti, 2006, p.71 (with references to Finley, “Between slavery and freedom”, 1964): “It was only in classical Athens and Rome that the continuum was broken down and replaced by a grouping of statuses at two ends—the slave and the freeman. Slavery was no longer a single relative form among many in a gradual continuum but a polar condition of complete loss of freedom as opposed to a new concept of untrammelled liberty, and this new situation was a decisive contribution of the Greco-Roman world”. 202 JOHANNES BRONKHORST

We know that Indian Buddhism in subsequent centuries found ways to compete with Brahmanism also in the domains of magical protection and even serious counselling for kings. It seems, indeed, that many of the forms of Buddhism that came to be exported to countries like China, Japan and even Tibet had plenty on offer that might interest worldly rulers. In Southeast Asia the situation was different: there Buddhism continued its competition with Brahman- ism, and there too it often yielded all that had to do with political power to Brahmins. (Brahmins still play a role—now largely ceremonial—at the royal court of Thailand, in spite of this being a Buddhist country.) This paper is not about later Buddhism, even less about the forms of Buddhism that emigrated from its homeland. In the Indian subcontinent itself, and during the early centuries of the Common Era, Buddhism came to look upon itself as a newcomer, grafted upon the indigenous religion which was Brahmanism. This Buddhist vision of its own past was mistaken, we now know. It may yet shed light on other more or less similar developments that took place elsewhere in Asia. The organisers of this symposium draw particular attention to Japanese Shinto and Tibetan Bön. It appears that these movements developed into independent traditions. With regard to the second of these two they say: “The study of historical origins of Bön turns out to be very much an inquiry into the dialogic dynamics of the construction of religious identity that typically occurs in the presence of a powerful rival, casu quo: Tibetan Buddhists”. Something similar, it appears, can be said about Shinto. However, “Where Bön focuses on creating a canon comparable to the Buddhist one, on imagining a founder older and more impressive than Shakyamuni, and a land of origin more mysterious than India, Shinto writers pride themselves on not having a canon or a founder, and concentrate their efforts on sanctifying the Japanese islands rather than construing a distant land of origin”. It goes without saying that Indian Brahmanism is very different from Japanese Shinto or Tibetan Bön. Brahmanism was not constructed in reaction to a powerful rival in the form of Buddhism. It is true that for a correct understanding of Brahmanism in its historical development one needs to take Buddhism into consideration, but Buddhism was not powerful enough to justify the view that Brahmanism was merely or primarily a reaction to it. Quite on the BUDDHIST NATIVISM IN ITS HOMELAND 203 contrary, Buddhism, as we have seen, came close to adopting the view that it was itself a reaction to Brahmanism, a view which many modern scholars have taken over with gusto. No, Brahmanism was not, or not exclusively, a reaction to Buddhism. It had a tradition of its own that was much older than Buddhism, and indeed, it is possible to speculate that its subsequent history might not have been all that different if Buddhism had not existed at all. What I mean to say is that Brahmanism was a strong and independent tradition in the Indian subcontinent, which became stronger in the course of time and in the end even succeeded in pushing Buddhism out of the way altogether. This difference, however, may make the comparison between Brahmanism on the one hand and Shinto and Bön on the other all the more interesting. In all three countries Buddhism was confronted with a nativistic tradition. In India this nativistic tradition was stronger—it would seem—than in Japan and Tibet, so much so that the nativistic tradition succeeded in the end in replacing Buddhism. Before it came to that, however, Buddhism had been taken in by the nativistic tradition of India. Buddhism had come to acknowledge the precedence, both historically and in terms of its claims as to the correct organisation of state and society, of Brahmanism. In the end it had to pay the ultimate price for this.

ABBREVIATIONS Buddhac Aśvaghoṣa, Buddhacarita, ed. & transl. E.H. Johnston, Calcutta 1935 BST Buddhist Sanskrit Texts, Darbhanga IndTib Indica et Tibetica, Bonn, Marburg Jm(H) Āryaśūra, Jātakamālā, ed. A. Hanisch, Marburg 2005 (IndTib 43/1) Jm(V) Āryaśūra, Jātakamālā, ed. P. L. Vaidya, Darbhanga 1959 (BST 21) Lal Lalitavistara, ed. S. Lefmann, 2 Vols., Halle 1902–08 Lal(V) Lalitavistara, ed. P. L. Vaidya, Darbhanga 1958 (BST 1)

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Finley, Moses I. (1964): “Between slavery and freedom”, in Comparative Studies in Society and History Vol.6, pp.233–49, reprinted in: Finley (1981:116–32). Finley, Moses I. (1981), Economy and Society in Ancient Greece, edited by Brent D. Shaw and Richard P. Saller, London: Chatto & Windus. Hopkins, Jeffrey (1998), Buddhist Advice for Living & Liberation, Nāgārjuna’s Precious Garland, analyzed, translated and edited, Ithaca, New York: Snow Lion Publications. Nāgārjuna: Ratnāvalī / Precious Garland; see Hopkins (1998). Renfrew, Colin (1973), Before Civilization, The Radiocarbon Revolution and Prehistoric Europe, London: Jonathan Cape. Rudgley, Richard (1999). The Lost Civilizations of the Stone Age, New York: The Free Press. THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION: INDONESIAN HINDU-BUDDHISM BETWEEN RITUAL INTEGRATION, NATIONAL CONTROL AND NATIVIST TENDENCIES

ANNETTE HORNBACHER (UNIVERSITY OF HEIDELBERG)

The 21st century started with unexpectedly violent religious terror attacks inducing a reassessment of religion and its role within global politics. This return of religion as a noteworthy force in global politics is all the more interesting because classical modernisation theories have predicted that within the global process of modernisation religion will increasingly disappear from the public sphere. Accord- ingly, western enlightenment philosophy and social science since Max Weber have identified modernisation with secularisation and with a gradual disappearance of ethnic and cultural differences in favour of a civil society formed upon the model of Western culture and its all pervading values and norms (Kücken 2005 and Meyer 2005). Yet, at the end of the last century movements based on ethnicity and religious revitalisation have emerged in different parts of the world challenging—even in Europe—the universalism of a culturally homogeneous and secular world society that had been taken for granted. Anthropological research has shown instead that economic globalisation does not result in cultural standardisation along the principles of Western modernity, but rather creates an increasing awareness for cultural differences that triggers criticism on the western prototype of modernity and even the revitalisation of local traditions (Featherstone 1990, Hannerz 1992, Eisenstadt 1997, and Geertz 2000) Similarly, modernisation did not result in universal secularisation so far, but rather has triggered the revitalisation of religion, and particularly an unexpected revival of religious fundamentalism as a means for trans-ethnic identity. In what follows, I will consider alternative forms of globalisation in view of the Malay Archipelago and thereby, I will focus on the role of inter-religious contact within a complex history of cross- cultural contact and political power-relations. 206 ANNETTE HORNBACHER

GLOBAL MODERNITY AND NATIVIST TENDENCIES: GENERAL REMARKS

Religious and cultural studies have described ethnic as well as religious revitalisation as variants of ‘nativist’ movements insofar as both identify cultural change and particularly the implementation of a global modernity as the fatal result of ‘foreign’ influence against which a ‘primordial or timeless’ ethnic identity, or an ‘original and pure’ religious revelation are evoked (Riesebrodt 1993). Moreover, both types of nativism merge political interests and religious concepts, which is evident in the Japanese revitalisation or rather construction of political and nationalist Shinto during the Meiji Restoration (Antoni 1992 and Teeuwen 2002). During the same period, in the 19th century, emerged America’s xenophobic protestant nativist movement that involved overt hostility against European immigrants and Catholicism which were seen as threatening influences to a native American identity that was essentially protestant. Similar combinations of nationalism, xenophobia, ethnically legitimated politics and religious fundamentalism can be found in political Islam that aimed at the establishment of a primordial Muslim state against Western colonialism. Social scientists and scholars of Islamic studies therefore explain the present Islamist terror as a direct result of the failure to create an Islamic state, as a genuinely Muslim and Arab alternative to the secular forces of Western colonialism and modernity (Roy 2006). However, while political debates associate nativism both with religious fundamentalism and with nationalism based on ethnicity, the focus of cultural anthropology differs in several respects. Political and religious studies explain nativism as an ideological construct that serves nationalist interests by pretending primordial cultural homogeneity and ignoring or even suppressing cultural difference, yet the anthropologist Ralph Linton in his classical article on nativistic movements looks at this topic from a different angle by looking at the aspect of bottom up agency. In the first place, Linton, like other scholars, emphasises that nativism should not be mistaken for the primordial or ‘native’ culture itself, because it highlights only those cultural traits, which are crucial for the present situation of a society. Thus, it should be seen as a selective reconstruction under the conditions of cross-cultural contact, social domination or cultural subordination, reflecting present power relations rather than repre- THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 207 senting a primordial state. In this regard Linton’s article on nativism meets with more recent political theories on the “invention of tradition” (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983) and on “imagined communities” (Anderson 1983). Nevertheless, while political scientists merely emphasise the instrumentalisation of cultural and religious nativism for nationalist ideologies, Linton investigates these movements as the expression of an agency ‘from below’, which is to say: as means of relatively marginalised groups to defend those local cultural traditions, which are suppressed by national politics and global standardisation. In this sense, Linton describes nativism—decades before the present globalisation debate—as a chance to preserve cultural diversity within the normative control of the state and against global standardisation. In spite of these complementary argumentations, both approaches share a common precondition that I will consider in the light of religious pluralism in Bali: According to both theories, cross-cultural and interreligious contact result either in one-sided cultural or religious domination or in assimilation and standardisation. In the first case, nativism can be seen as a means of self-assertion or as a chauvinist claim to power. In the second case, religious and cultural differences disappear in the course of complete self-abandonment and assimilation to a dominant culture or religion. I would like to examine this implication in view of another type of cross-cultural and inter-religious contact for which I will examine the spread of Hinduism and Buddhism in insular Southeast Asia, where, for centuries, all world religions coexisted with local traditions of ancestor and nature worship without ignoring, suppressing or marginalising each other. Consequently, there is no evidence of nativistic movements until recently, under the influence of the modern Indonesian state and its politics of religion. I therefore argue that nativistic tendencies are not a general feature of inter-religious or cross-cultural contact and in insular Southeast Asia should be understood with regard to the socio-political control of religion. I should like to illustrate this thesis by means of a comparison between the history of religious pluralism in Java and Bali and anthropological research on the consequences of modern religious politics within the Indonesian nation state. To illustrate my thesis, I will first outline the historical frame of Indonesia’s inter-religious contact; secondly, I will focus on the particular case of Bali’s Hindu-Buddhism; and, 208 ANNETTE HORNBACHER thirdly, I will briefly contrast these historical data with ethnographic research on the consequences of Indonesia’s religious politics for Balinese religious dynamics today, that is to say: the re-construction of a multifarious ritual practice as a purified Hinduism.

THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO—A GLOBALISED WORLD AVANT LA LETTRE

The Malay Archipelago, as the geographic region of the modern Indonesian state, is a highly interesting field for studies on religious and cultural pluralism. It is located along old maritime trade routes between India and China, and as a consequence of this geopolitical position many different cultural and religious traditions have influenced the region (Coedes 1964 and Klokke 1995): Due to this combination of long distance trade and lasting cultural exchange the region and its history set an early example of a non-Western type of globalisation. After prehistoric influence from South China, Hinduism and Buddhism—along with cultural influence from India in the field of fine arts, poetry, philosophy, music, and dance—were prevailing in Sumatra, Java and Bali, the latter being the only and easternmost island, where a variant of Hinduism blended with Buddhism is being practiced until today. While Indian and Chinese influence started during the first centuries AD, resulting in Hindu and Buddhist kingdoms, it was followed by Muslim traders from India and the Arab world who initiated a process of increasing Islamisation since the 15th century (Dietrich 1995). Today, Indonesia is the most populous Muslim country of the world, despite its strong Hindu-Buddhist heritage and remarkable Christian influence during colonialism. Given this complex religious, political and cultural situation, it seems all the more surprising that religious and cultural conflicts and nativistic revitalisations are no prominent features of Indonesian history. I argue that this fact is linked to the pluralistic integration of different cultural traditions and religious teachings within the early Indianised states, which is evident for the Hindu and Buddhist kingdoms in Java, Sumatra and—until today—in Bali. Their liberal and integrative rather than conflicting adoption of Indian traditions corresponds with recent historical analyses: Today, scholars agree that the lasting influence of Indian traditions in this region is not the result of a culture that was imposed by military conquests from India THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 209 but rather emerges from the fact that Indian art, poetry, religion and political systems were freely adopted by local chiefs who legitimated their authority within the network of overseas trade relations with the help of the prestigious cultural ideal-type of India (Kulke and Rothermund 1998:199). Thus, the overseas trade was not restricted to luxury goods such as gold, sandalwood and silk, but it also embraced cultural elements that connected the archipelago to India, the Arab world and to China (Hall 1985, Kulke 1995:53f, and Klokke 1995). Even though the Chinese emperor was venerated as a distant overlord by regular Indonesian delegations, India became the influential paradigm for cultural, political and religious reconstruction of local politics, cultural innovation and religion. There are no reliable historical data from the early centuries AD, because writing was not common in Indonesia at that time. The first historical report was written by a Buddhist pilgrim from China to India, Fa-Hsien, who describes in 414 that the heretic Brahmin religion flourishes at the Javanese kingdoms while Buddhism is not worth mentioning, and other inscriptions from the early 5th century AD provide evidence for the existence of further Indianised kingdoms in Kalimantan (Kempers 1991). Thus, we may conclude from Fa-Hsien’s report that a variety of Hinduism was well established at that time at the royal centres of Java, and that Buddhism was at least known and perceived as a separate religion, even though it was not in the centre of official political practice at that time. We will see that this situation later changed considerably. In later centuries Buddhism and Hinduism increasingly merged with each other and also with local traditions of ancestor and nature worship, which were always practiced by the population. (Zoetmulder 1965 and Kempers 1991) During the 7th century the political balance between Hindu and Buddhist kingdoms had fundamentally changed. In this century, the Buddhist kingdom of Srivijaya in Sumatra became the supreme economic power and, as the predominant thalassocraty of the Malacca strait that controlled the long-distance trade between India and China for centuries, Srivijaya was notorious, even in Indian, Chinese and Arab inscriptions (Kulke 1995 and Wolters 1979). Due to its geo-strategic position not merely traders passed the maritime state, but as early as in the 7th century the polity was an intellectual and cultural centre for Indian scholars, Chinese pilgrims and monks. 210 ANNETTE HORNBACHER

The latter describe Srivijaya as an international focus of Buddhist learning equipped with a remarkable library and hosting more than one thousand Buddhist monks who were studying Sanskrit texts on their way to the Indian motherland of Buddhism (Kulke 1995:57). As a focus both of overseas trade and of Buddhist learning Srivijaya can be seen as a paragon of the early Indianised polities in this region. It had risen from local chiefdoms that were sharing common practices of ancestor and nature worship and in proof of its economic and political predominance had introduced Indian art and hosted Buddhist intellectuals from India and China. As a culturally and religiously pluralistic centre, Srivijaya featured a political structure that has been described as ‘galactic’ or ‘mandala’-state (Tambiah 1976 and Wolters 1979). This notion describes a type of polity that was not organised by a hierarchical bureaucracy controlling a clear- cut territory by military power, but rather that its power emerged from its intermediary and strategic role in the exchange between overseas partners and a local hinterland. Thus, mandala-kingdoms were paradigmatic centres of a group of similar chiefdoms that imitated the culturally pivotal and economically predominant centre. This type of politically and culturally globalised kingdom was by no means restricted to Buddhist influence in Sumatra. Hindu kingdoms have emerged even earlier in Kalimantan and Java, and moreover, Hinduism corresponded with local traditions of ancestor worship. Consequently, the kings of these realms were seen as divinities (rajadewa) and were identified with local ancestors, the powers of nature, and with the gods of the Hindu pantheon upon which the welfare of these agrarian societies depended. Their ritual worship was the focus of cultural, economic and religious activities and at the same time the legitimating basis of their political power, as anthropological research in Balinese divine kingdoms has shown (Geertz 1980). Like in other southeast Asian regions—for example in Cambodia—wet rice farming produced a surplus, which—by means of a tributary system—supported royal centres and served as the economic basis for an elaborate ritual life. Like in Sumatra, the Javanese kingdoms were not extended realms but rather centres of flourishing arts, such as dance and poetry as well as of religious and philosophical learning, and their influence on the surrounding villages was based on a system of exchange, where peasants supported the paradigmatic and spiritually powerful royal centres by THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 211 means of food and work, while their kings were accepted as incarnations of divine ancestors who were responsible for the welfare of the people and the prosperity of the rice-fields and nature, by means of their spiritual power or sakti. As the very essence of sakti, these kings were identified with animated cosmic elements such as water, fire, earth, wind, and ether, and they were named accordingly, either after Hindu teachings of the five great elements (pancamahabhuta) or after the main deities of the Hindu Pantheon—most of all Siwa or Wisnu (Swellengrebel 1960). Thus, Hindu philosophy and theology was directly linked to local agrarian rituals, ancestor cult and cosmology. Moreover, Indian paradigms of art became predominant at royal courts. Since the earliest examples of sculpture show the purest influence of the Indian paradigm, it seems that initially the Indonesian kings had invited and patronised Indian artists and religious authorities, who introduced their respective skills into the local kingdoms during the first millennium AD. However, while the Hindu and Buddhist kings supported religious and cultural Indianisation at their courts, they did not establish Hinduism or Buddhism as a common state doctrine nor did they suppress local traditions of art and ritual practice. The royal cult was predominantly Hindu or Buddhist in character but it combined a local blend of ancestor, nature and agrarian cults with Indian conceptions, philosophies and artistic representations. As a result of this coexistence, Indian and Indonesian traditions merged and mutually influenced each other over the centuries, in many different variants. This is evident with regard to the stylistic changes in Indonesian art history. In the course of the first millennium, Indian sculpture and poetry gradually lost their distinct Indian iconography and style. This gradual indigenisation becomes evident if we compare the stone reliefs of central Java with those of east Java. The former are the classical stone reliefs of the Buddhist sanctuary in Borobudur and of the Hindu Candi Loro Jonggrang in Prambanan that were built during the 9th century AD in central Java. Both display a realistic style of representation with the full plastic representation of the human body and an iconography that reveals acquaintance with Indian models, for example regarding music 212 ANNETTE HORNBACHER instruments and gestures1. The same applies for freestanding stone sculptures in Java and Bali. These artworks show full plastic representations of deities, which are sometimes identified with local kings and their consorts (Eggebrecht 1995). However, stylistic indigenisation becomes evident during the period of the east Javanese realm of Kediri, the 11th-century predecessor of the legendary realm of Majapahit that controlled not merely east Java but an extended region from the Malacca strait in the West up to distant eastern Indonesian islands (Sedyawati 1995, Soekmono 1965 and 1995). Bali in particular was conquered by Majapahit in the 14th century and since then has become the retreat for the Hindu-Buddhist court-culture of Java that fled from the expanding Islamic realms in Java. Until today, Bali is the last resort for the pluralistic blend of Hinduism, Buddhism and local ancestor or nature worship that until the advent of Islam had flourished in Java and Sumatra as well. Under Majapahit regency, east Javanese sanctuaries were built during the 13th and 14th centuries that display an increasing stylistic Javanisation of the originally Indian art form and its motifs: Like the central Javanese reliefs those of Panataran represent scenes from the Indian epics Mahabharata and Ramayana, yet they are designed in the so called “Wayang style”, showing the figures no longer in a full plastic representation of the human body but as if they were flat leather puppets of the Indonesian shadow play and thus seen in profile (Stutterheim 1989 and Kieven 1995). Correspondingly, the language of the classical Hindu epics was indigenised and local narratives were added, while Sanskrit metre was preserved in Javanese poetry (Zoetmulder 1974 and Pink 1995). This stylistic indigenisation within art history has an equivalent in the religious pluralism of the same kingdoms. Local cosmologies, ancestor veneration and nature worship, all of them being orally and ritually communicated, were not marginalised or suppressed by the royal centres and authorities, but rather coexisted with the Indianised

1 There are, however, slight variations visible from the very beginning. Edi Sedyawati, a scholar of Javanese art history, has pointed out that the representation of dance scenes in these reliefs show the acquaintance with Indian texts on dance (Natyashastra) but leave out the acrobatic movements of Indian dance itself. According to her, this might indicate that Javanese ideas on aesthetics and dance took another direction at this very early period (see: Sedyawati 1981 and 1995). THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 213 state cult and its teachings. This integrative handling of religious and cultural difference had remarkable results. Instead of violent clashes between local practices and Indian religious doctrines, Hinduism and Buddhism coexisted both with each other and with local animism, and, in the course of centuries, all of them gradually influenced each other. This integrative religious pluralism should not be mistaken as the outcome of an unconscious and automatic ‘syncretism’, rather it is the result of a reflexive differentiation between religious doctrines and spiritual essence that implies a deliberate separation and distinction of different religious teachings. While there are no historical sources that describe the relation of Buddhist and Siwaist groups in Javanese everyday life, it is evident that the Javanese kings integrated both religious groups and teachings in their court ritual by representing themselves as incarnations both of Siwa and of Buddha. Literary documents of the 13th century such as the poem Sutasoma that was written by the Buddhist poet Mpu Tantular in a Hindu kingdom give evidence of this deliberate acknowledgement of religious pluralism. He describes the story of prince Sutasoma who is in search of ultimate truth and discovers that he himself is the reincarnation of Buddha who moreover is identical with Siwa (Ramstedt 2003). This poem, written under the rule of a Hindu king and claiming that both religious doctrines are equivalent inasmuch as they aim at the same ultimate truth, can be understood as an early paragon of religious pluralism for which the modern Indonesian state has become famous today. The poem identifies the different names of Siwa with the different names of Buddha and moreover with the four points of the compass, including the centre. Until today, this concentric Mandala structure, which can be traced back to Buddhist origins, is a basic principle of spatial orientation and aesthetics in the overall Hindu-Balinese ritual, where it is called nawa sanga and is associated with the lotus flower as well as with a symbolism of colours, mystical syllables and gods that represent structural principles of Javano-Balinese architecture, cosmology and the aesthetics or offerings (Swellengrebel 1960:47, 50).2 This attempt to identify two very different religions and their

2 Additionally, in some cases the Balinese identify the Hindu gods of the respective directions with the names of transcendent Buddhas. For example: Sadasiwa= Wairocana=Centre; Brahma=Amithaba= West, etc. 214 ANNETTE HORNBACHER gods and gurus becomes explicit in the Sutasoma phrase “bhinekka tunggaal ika” that means “unity in diversity” that was borrowed centuries later as the state’s motto for the multi-religious Indonesian republic.

TANTRIC PRACTICES AS RITUAL MEANS OF INTER-RELIGIOUS COOPERATION

Considering the implications of this deliberate acknowledgment of different religious teachings and rituals, tantric practices have obviously played a prominent role, because they allowed the performative combination of Buddhist and Hindu teachings and techniques. As early as during the 8th century tantric Buddhism from the Yogacara-school had been introduced from India to Sumatra as a result of the close relationship with Nalanda University (Kulke, Rothermund 1998). In 717 the Indian Vajrabodhi who established tantrist Buddhism in China studied for several months in Srivijaya on his way from Langka to China and thus became one link among others between Indian, Chinese and Indonesian traditions of tantric Buddhism (Kulke, Rothermund 1998:202). Since then, middle and east Javanese kingdoms became increasingly influenced by tantric Buddhism, which merged with Siwaism and with local rituals in different ways, which are difficult to re-construct because of a notorious lack of reliable written sources. In any case, the first Javanese stone inscription from 778 describes the erection of a temple dedicated to Tara, under the patronage of the Shailendra rulers, and there is evidence that Tara had been identified with transformative spiritual powers and thus with left-handed tantrism and magical practices, including witchcraft (Coedès 1964:89f.). These transformative, magical and esoteric traditions obviously merged with Javanese Hinduism, thereby creating a new type of “Hindu-Buddhist” kingdoms, the rulers of which were venerated as incarnations both of Siwa or Wisnu and of Buddha. This is evident from a historical document of the Hindu-Buddhist kingdom of Majapahit, the Nagarakertagama, that was written during the 14th century by Mpu Prapanca the superintendant of Buddhist affairs under the rule of king Rajasanagara (better known as: Hayam Wuruk), the ruler of Majapahit at the top of its splendour and power (Prapanca 1995). Prapanca describes the actual state of the realm as well as its royal predecessors and he elaborates on the cooperation of THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 215

Hinduism and Buddhism. As the epitome of this unity he identifies his king both with Wisnu and Buddha, describes his patronage over Buddhist as well as Hindu sanctuaries, and emphasises that for the state ritual of Majapahit Brahmin and Buddhist priests have to cooperate (Prapanca 1995:32f.). We can conclude therefore, that divine kingship—and above all the deifying cremation ritual, which was performed by the Buddhist priests—was the centre of a ritual integration of Buddhism and Hinduism, or rather of the Siwaist integration of Buddhism whereas in the earlier Buddhist realm of Srivijaya the king was not identified with Buddha but was seen as the protector of the sangha. A paradigm for the ritual integration of Siwaist and Buddhist teachings was king Krtanagara—a predecessor of Hayam Wuruk—who had been revered as the unity of Siwa and Buddha, as well as of male and female (Ardhanari), and whose ashes had been buried in two portions both in a Buddhist and in a Hindu sanctuary. According to Prapanca this unifying power is based on the fact that Krtanagara was an exquisite expert in esoteric wisdom and rituals (Prapanca 1995:55f). The Nagarakertagama thus reveals an interesting aspect both of the ritual integration and analytical separation of Indian and local religions. On the one hand, it shows that tantric practices facilitated the integration of distinct Buddhist and Hindu teachings and the cooperation of their respective priests within the state’s ritual, where they were not treated as separate or opposing doctrines, but rather as mutually complementing aspects of transformative rites. Given the crucial role of the cremation ritual as deifying ritual for the kings, we can moreover conclude that ultimately both religious traditions were politically integrated by means of the local ancestor cult. On the other hand, tantric practices are esoteric in character and thus clandestine for the majority. As esoteric traditions these rituals and Indian teachings were supposed to directly display magical power (sakti) and thus they were preserved for the divine kings and their priests who epitomised cosmic sakti and were responsible for the prosperity of the realm. In any case, the idea of sakti is an important link that supported the indigenisation of different Indian doctrines and the identification of their respective gods and gurus, while, on the other hand, it implied ambiguities and restricted the access to spiritual authority. 216 ANNETTE HORNBACHER

Even in present Bali, the idea of sakti plays a central role for the interpretation of individual agency as spiritual and magical power. Even though the term sakti is borrowed from India, it is never personified in Bali as the female consort of male gods, but invariably means an impersonal spiritual power or agency that can be attributed to humans and spirited beings of nature, but is ultimately impersonal and potentially dangerous because of its moral neutrality . The divine kings as embodiments of magical wisdom and power were epitomes of sakti by means of their magical ritual. On the other hand, this esoteric knowledge and techniques can also be misused by people who use these very mantras and mudras for witchcraft. Because of this ambiguity, most of these esoteric Hindu-Buddhist texts (tuturs) are kept secret in Balinese Brahmin families. They are supposed to display a powerful influence that may even be harmful, and thus they are introduced with ajawera or formulaic phrases prohibiting its common use for those who lack the instruction and guidance of a religious expert or guru. In light of this socio-political frame of Hindu-Buddhist cooperation in the early Indonesian kingdoms we can sum up some interim findings: Both Hinduism and Buddhism, along with cultural techniques from India, thoroughly influenced this region since the first centuries AD and served the legitimisation of divine kingdoms that arose as cultural and political centres of the overseas trade or—in Java—of as surplus-producing agrarian societies. However, in spite of this political function, Buddhism and Hinduism were never imposed on the whole of society as a state doctrine because only little attention was paid to the doctrinal or theoretical aspects that shape the common idea of religion in modernity. While intellectual and scholarly interest have informed Buddhist monks who went from China to Srivijaya in order to study Sanskrit and to translate the classical texts of Buddhism, these pious scholars represented a foreign elite without lasting influence on the illiterate society around them. Similarly, there are esoteric and philosophical texts of Balinese Hinduism (tuturs and tattwas), but these texts are kept secret by the Brahmin priests who write and copy them until today, because they are seen as direct manifestations of cosmic power or sakti rather than as theoretical treatises, On the other hand, the increasing indigenisation and integration of Buddhist and Hindu traditions in the Javanese and Balinese Kingdoms was guided by the transformative THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 217 sakti of the divine kings themselves, that was manifest in representative state rituals and rituals. For this purpose, Buddhist as well as Hindu teachings and practices were linked to local practices, and as a consequence of this performative integration, Hinduism and Buddhism coexisted with each other as well as with local ancestor and nature worship.

BALINESE HINDU-BUDDHISM AS PERFORMATIVE UNITY OF A RITUAL FIGHT

The previous descriptions hint at a complex field of cultural and religious influences and relations in Indonesia, which mirrors both the influence of Indian religious teachings and its creative local negotiation according to local ritual practices and shifting frames of socio-political power. The outcome of this negotiation was a specific religious pluralism implying both a restricted access to elitist Hindu- Buddhist teachings and religious integration regarding ritual traditions. Since after the advent of Islam in Java the island of Bali became the last resort of this ritually integrative Hindu-Buddhism, it is worth examining this example in more detail. Prapanca describes the condition of Bali shortly after its conquest by the Javanese rulers of Majapahit. According to him, Bali hosted the same form of ritually integrated Hindu-Buddhism as Java at that time, and in fact, Prapanca’s report is corroborated by archaeological data that give evidence of Buddhist and Hindu sanctuaries in central Bali and by surviving tantric rituals, mantras and yantras with magical power, which are still practiced (Nihom 1994). Moreover, Bali still hosts a number of Buddhist priests although it follows predominantly Siwaitic rites (Swellengrebel 1960 and Hooykaas1973). These traces of Buddhist influence are hard to determine but can be found in several texts, yoga techniques, death rituals, specific forms of meditation—preferably on cemeteries—as well as in several mantras, mudras and yantras, which are known from Tibetan Buddhism. Beyond that, some Balinese call their religion ‘Hindu-Buddhism’ corresponding to the fact that in all important temple ceremonies Brahmin priests (Pedanda Siwa) and Buddhist priests (Pedanda Boda) have to cooperate. While the teachings of these Pedanda Boda do not significantly differ from those of the Pedanda Siwa, it seems 218 ANNETTE HORNBACHER that they have slightly different ritual functions. Regarding their special mantras and mudras the Buddhist priests are closely linked to extended rituals for the demonic forces and for the deceased, which means: to purification. This matches Prapanca’s description of a cremation ritual for the deification of the king that was exclusively performed by Buddhist priests. Prapanca moreover mentions a ritual effigy for the soul of a deceased: the puspa, which Buddhist priests used for the king’s purification and deification. Interestingly, a puspa (literally: ‘flower’) is still an essential effigy in Balinese mortuary rituals, though in present-day Bali it is prepared for every deceased, as the seat of the soul in the course of a purification ritual called nyekah, which follows years after the cremation ritual . Beyond that, the puspa is in this case specified as puspa linga and thus it is no longer a prerogative of the Buddhist priests, but is linked to Siwa and displayed by Hindu priests Ritual as well as literary elements nevertheless provide evidence that Buddhist heritage was integrated into Balinese ritual, even though Buddhist doctrines—in the strict sense of the word—are not discussed anymore. This is not necessarily a sign of ignorance, but could also indicate the attempt to ritually integrate diverse teachings and communities rather than to stress doctrinal oppositions. Accordingly, differences between opposing teachings are integrated by their reinterpretation into the framework of the Balinese family structure: Buddha is said to be the younger brother of Siwa, which in terms of Balinese sibling structures implies, that the younger brother (adik) has to respect his older brother, while the older brother (kakak) has to be protective and tolerant regarding the wishes of his younger brother. To interpret the doctrinal opposition in terms of this basic kinship relation reveals a core concept of Balinese and Javanese cosmology and society, according to which contradictions have to be transformed into a dynamic fight for harmony by mutual acknowledgement of inevitable differences and hierarchies which are as essential and necessary as the different position of brothers within the family. In light of this description it is interesting that many Balinese rituals, which are basically pujas for the gods, include ritual fights representing a controlled opposition of the ritual participants. By means of these fights the ritual process transforms logical contradictions into balanced forms of complementary opposition thereby THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 219 creating a mutual acknowledgement of differences, which indicates and preserves—from a Balinese point of view—cosmic balance. In Bali, this ritual conflict mediation applies to oppositions of different religious doctrines as well. This is particularly evident in view of an important ritual that is regularly performed at an old temple in south-central Bali where I have conducted intensive fieldwork: The name of this temple is “Samuan Tiga” that has been translated as “the unification of the three”. According to oral history—the name refers to a ritual meeting of three opposing religious groups centuries ago. While the names of these sects vary, most informants describe them as old Balinese religion, Siwaism and Buddhism, whose representatives met in order to reconcile a conflict that was threatening the unity of the divine kingdom and thus cosmic balance. There is in fact archaeological evidence for strong Buddhist influence in this village, which has been mentioned already in the Nagarakertagama and was the centre of the old Balinese kingdom before the invasion of the Javanese Majapahit rulers. According to oral history the meeting resulted in a reconciliation of the three sects and as a consequence of this the temple Samuan Tiga has been built and the unification of the gods is ritually worshipped since then to guarantee cosmic harmony and welfare to Bali and moreover to the world in general. During this long lasting ritual, Buddhist priests assist their Hindu colleagues to perform mantras and mudras until today. Moreover, the elaborate ritual culminates in a fight, where consecrated performers beat each other with parts of a special ritual effigy that represents cosmic unity and fertility, and can be interpreted as the cosmic tree or mountain in the centre of the world. While local interpretations of this fight are lacking, it might be interpreted with regard to its origin myth as a transformation of social or doctrinal oppositions in a ritual form of cooperation and harmony. This interpretation corresponds not only with historic evidence of strong Buddhist influence in this region, but moreover with a myth that is linked both with Buddhist influence on Bali and with the mythical environment of this temple: The evil king Maya- danawa who had great magical power (sakti) lived in the neighbour- hood of the temple and fought against the Hindu gods. He suppressed the worship of all gods and forced the Balinese to revere exclusively him. His atheistic tyranny culminated in the attempt to poison the 220 ANNETTE HORNBACHER gods, which only failed because Indra saved the gods by the waters of immortality (amerta) emerging from the holy spring Tirta Empul, which is one of the most sacred sanctuaries of Bali. The gods were seeking revenge, but Mayadanawa could escape for some time, due to his ability to transform his body into many different animals. When finally the gods managed to kill him close to Tirta Empul, another river originated from his blood: the cursed Petanu, which has never been used for irrigation until recently. This myth is closely linked in all of its details with the landscape and villages around Samuan Tiga, and it has been associated by scholars with the emergence of Buddhism as a non-theistic doctrine. If this interpretation is correct, we may conclude that Buddhism has opposed in earlier times Balinese Hinduism but that this opposition found a mythical reflection and a ritual solution in the temple and its reconciliatory ritual fight. Thus, we discover again that in Balinese Hindu-Buddhist ritual provides a means for the deliberate integration of differing religious teachings. Today, doctrinal differences are not mentioned by the ritual participants, but Buddhist traditions have obviously influenced not only the history of this particular Hindu ritual but the structure of the entire temple complex as well: Unlike other Balinese temples, Samuan Tiga represents a cosmic mandala within which complementary spiritual forces are arranged around a central court, where the gods and the holy effigies are placed during the ceremony. In the course of the ritual the different points of this mandala are performatively linked by circumambulation, before the ritual fight culminates in its centre.

THE PARADOX OF NATIVISM: BALI’S HINDU-BUDDHISM UNDER PRESSURE OF IDENTIFICATION

Bali’s ritual practice and mythology thus corroborates the previous considerations concerning the integrative coexistence of different religious traditions in Indonesia. In 14th century Java, as in present- day Bali, Hinduism and Buddhism were indigenised by means of ritual practices at the top of which was the flexible transformation of a divine king into Buddha, Wisnu, Siwa, local ancestor gods, and the personified elements of a spirited nature. This ritual integration demonstrated the magical power of the kings and it served both the cosmic balance of opposing forces and THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 221 the socio-political reconciliation of competing religious sects. Thus, this reconciling ritual practice can be seen as a counterpart to modern history that is marked by devastating wars between competing Christian denominations and between different monotheist book religions. In contrast to this, there is no evidence of religious wars nor of nativist rebellions against the Indian religions in the old Javanese and Balinese kingdoms, and what might be described as a mythical report of a conflict between Buddhist and Hindu doctrines regarding Bali is not resolved by a military decision or submission, but rather by a new temple and its integrative ritual. Nevertheless, it is precisely this reconciling effect of ritual integration that turns out to be problematic under the influence of colonialism introducing a doctrinal or theoretical idea of religion as the new global standard. This issue became even more serious with Bali’s integration into the modern state of Indonesia. The advantages of ritual integration were challenged for the first time in the context of modernisation where Indonesia had to compete with the predominant norms of a western society. The influence of colonialism and Christianity that reached the heartland of the South-Balinese kingdoms relatively late at the beginning of the 20th century, triggered a process of self-reflection among Balinese intellectuals who discussed the need for a re-definition of their ritual traditions in terms of a consistent religious doctrine in local journals during the 1930s (Picard 1999). These Balinese intellectuals for the first time criticised that Bali had no proper ‘religion’ (agama) to offer that could cope with the teachings of Christianity as a coherent doctrine, but only a multitude of different and even contradictory local rituals and customs (adat). This early criticism had no long lasting impact on the local practice, all the more because Dutch officials forbade Christian proselytism—and thus inter-religious competition—in order to protect what they understood as Balinese culture: a museum of classical Indian culture and religion. However, the issue was brought up again and even more seriously after Bali’s integration in the postcolonial state of Indonesia, the religious politics of which are informed by its dominant Muslim society. Until then the Balinese made no attempt to define their religion, either as a separate field of social practice or as homogeneous, let alone normative doctrine, they even lacked a name to identify their 222 ANNETTE HORNBACHER specific ‘religion’ (Ramstedt 2003). Instead, spiritual interpretations of particular natural phenomena along with ritual practices were all pervading aspects of everyday life that could not be separated from agriculture or economy, social practice and politics. In contrast to this, the modern notion of ‘religion’ refers to doctrinal or theoretical teachings rather than to ritual practice and has been opposed as an orthodoxy to traditional Balinese orthopraxy that went along with many different—and in fact heterogeneous—theological and cosmological concepts. Until today, many Balinese describe—and defend— these ritual traditions as their locally varying custom or adat. The word adat is an Arab notion that is well known all over Indonesia and refers to local traditions both of law and religion in as much as these are opposed to the claims of a pan-Islamic shari’a and to universal religious doctrines in general, or in other words: it delineates local practice vis-à-vis the challenge of a religion with universalistic claims (Kipp and Rodgers). However, this claim for a locally diverse adat came under con- straint of the Indonesian government and its religious politics. After its independence in 1949 the Indonesian republic decided in favour of religious pluralism in spite of its overwhelmingly Muslim population and in spite of the fact that Islam as an identity marker had played a decisive role in the process of the fight for independence. The first and charismatic president Sukarno was formally a Muslim but was also informed by the integrative Javano-Balinese tradition of religious practice and managed to overrule tendencies to establish Indonesia as an Islamic state based upon the principles of the shari’a. However, the price for the officially acknowledged religious pluralism that is part of the official Indonesian constitution was a new and narrow definition of religion as such, which created new hierarchies, constrained within a political frame, the powers of which were modernist, on the one hand, and informed by an Islamic idea of book religion, on the other hand (Picard 1999 and Ramstedt 2003). Since then, Indonesian societies negotiate and re-construct its local rituals and traditions in terms of monotheist book religions and in light of a modern idea of religion as coherent doctrine. The Indonesian state is setting the frame of this re-construction inasmuch as it explicitly defends cultural and religious pluralism, while it implicitly implements the reinterpretation of all ritual and spiritual traditions along the norms and principle of scriptural monotheism, the THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 223 paradigm of which, of course, is Islam. The consequence of this religious policy is a tightrope walk within which religious pluralism has to adjust to the official guideline of religion as agama, being the Indonesian name for religion in general. The Indonesian definition of an officially acknowledged religion or agama first requires the belief in one almighty creator god, secondly a prophet who delivers a universal religious doctrine as divine revelation, and thirdly the existence of holy book that presents and preserves this divine truth as a homogenous doctrine. Consequently, only those spiritual traditions are politically protected that correspond with these guidelines. This means on the other hand, that countless local forms of ancestor and nature worship and particularly the ritual integration and reconciliation of different religions are not accepted as a religion (agama) in the full sense of the word, but merely as a belief system (aliran kepercayaan), or, at worst, as a backward custom (adat terblakangan), attributed to people that do ‘not yet’ have a religion (belum beragama) and therefore are in need of Islamic mission. Thus, the current ideal of Indonesian religious pluralism tends to replace the traditional ritual integration of religious diversity by an intellectualistic idea of religion as a coherent written doctrine. This modern definition of religion as agama serves as a powerful means of political pressure, which–on the one hand—adapts local spirituality to international standards of rationality, while—on the other hand—it is in favour of Islam as the national majority religion. Thus, Indonesian politics of religious pluralism functions as a paradoxical means of political pressure that creates both, new hierarchies and suppression within a field of religious pluralism. Given this new development in the framing of Indonesian religious diversity, it is not surprising, that this powerful policy has triggered different tendencies of what we may describe as religious nativism. The crucial feature of nativism in general and of religious nativism in particular is the revitalisation of marginalised traditions, which claim to be original and pure, while they are in fact reconstructions corresponding with political interests. Accordingly, Indonesian politics of religion has boosted the reinvention of local religious identity by supporting the re-interpretation of local ritual adat and oral traditions as an originally homogenous religious doctrine that fits the requirements of scriptural monotheism and thus of national politics. 224 ANNETTE HORNBACHER

In order to avoid Islamic proselytism the Balinese too were forced to re-interpret—and in fact to reconstruct—their heterogeneous ritual adat in terms of a religious doctrine, which they now describe— according to the official Indonesian concept of ‘religion’—as agama Hindu. However, this reconstruction of a ‘primordial and pure’ Hinduism in Bali encompasses only half of the local tradition because it skips the Buddhist and animist aspects of Bali’s ritual practice. The emergence of agama Hindu thus can be seen as the effect of a powerful national policy, that functions as an educational program, by which the Indonesian state enforces a new ideology of religion, while it marginalises precisely those ritual traditions, which were—historically—the flexible integrative centre of local cosmology and Hindu-Buddhist teachings. I suggest that the ritually established complex of practices and ideas could easily adapt to changing situations and challenges because it reconciled heterogeneous interests and options, while this possibility increasingly vanishes under the influence of orthodox Islam and a modern idea of religion. The historical development of Hinduism and Buddhism in Indonesia as well as the present religious dynamics of Bali can be seen as a touchstone for this thesis: After a decade of controversial discussions on the definition of Balinese religion, local authorities agreed upon the name of “Hinduism”, in order to avoid that Bali’s spiritual traditions would be rejected by the Indonesian government as a backward animist custom (adat). Under the pressure of threatening Islamic mission, Balinese priests and officials declared their religion in 1959 as Hindu monotheism and asserted that their holy books were the Vedic texts, which until then were unknown in Bali. It is interesting, however, that in spite of this top-down imposition of Balinese religion, today, Hinduism is accepted by most Balinese as their original religion, and moreover, it is re-constructed by modernist and educated Balinese corresponding to increasingly doctrinal guidelines and in view of Indian paradigms. Meanwhile, the Vedas and the Bhagavadgita have been translated into Indonesian and play an important role in the ongoing process within which Bali’s ritual practice is reconstructed as a scriptural and doctrinal religion. What we might call, with Benedict Anderson (and Eric Hobsbawm), an ‘imagined community’ based upon an ‘invented THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 225 tradition’, on the side of Balinese reformers is described as a return to the ‘original’ or primordial Hindu religion of Bali. The result is a thoroughly paradoxical process of religious reconstruction within which very different and even opposing tendencies of nativist revitalisation come to the fore: On the one hand, an increasing number of educated Balinese tends to re-interpret the multifarious local rituals and their blend of animist, Buddhist and Hindu symbols in terms of a standardised Hindu doctrine, which they describe as the essence of Bali’s local culture.3. On the other hand, many villagers feel that they have to boost their local ritual practice for which they spend excessive amounts of money and time, in order to guarantee the balance of a genuinely Balinese cosmological order. Since a few years, still another form of nativist reconstruction appeared as a reaction to the political and economic instrumentalisation of Balinese ritual within a global tourist industry: When— after a series of Islamist terror attacks in Indonesia—Bali’s rituals were advertised by the government as the island’s “cultural capital” with the intention to attract tourists, a Balinese urban elite went into opposition. They reclaimed Bali and its religious heritage for the Balinese themselves and started an ongoing campaign under the title ajeg Bali—upright Bali—that explicitly planned the reconstruction of primordial Balinese values and religion even though this identity was interpreted in opposing ways (Titib 2005, Schulte-Nordholt 2007, and Hornbacher 2009). Since all of these movements and identity reconstructions are still ongoing, the final outcome is hard to predict at the moment, all the more because the discourse on ajeg Bali is deeply ambiguous. While some of its representatives want to revitalize local traditions of Bali, others identify the essence of Balinese culture with their ideal of a universal Hindu doctrine that in India—of course—does not exist. We may describe all of these contesting attempts to re-construct a seemingly ‘original’ or ‘pure’ Balinese religion and culture as different examples for nativist movements inasmuch as they are paradoxical ways to preserve a local and ‘original’ tradition in terms

3 This applies for example to the panca sraddha, the five articles of Hindu belief, which are obviously an invention of the council of Indonesian Hindus (PHDI) even though they have been introduced as the doctrinal principles of Hinduism in general (Ramstedt 2003). 226 ANNETTE HORNBACHER of a dominant Indonesian agama politics. However, this preservation of authenticity implies a compulsive mimesis to the suppressing and dominant power structure. The attempt to save the integrative ritual adat in terms of religion thus involves the corruption of its original flexibility—and ultimately its transformation to a homogeneous doctrine that excludes heterodox elements. This is exactly the case of present Indonesian Hinduism, which has been saved against the dominant concept of Islam at the cost of marginalising essential aspects of Bali’s tradition: first and foremost the tantric ritual integration of Buddhism and Hinduism that do not fit with a ‘universal’ Vedic doctrine, and moreover local traditions of nature and ancestor worship, which are inconsistent with doctrinal monotheism. Thus, the case of Bali’s religious nativism is an ambivalent and dialectical phenomenon that reveals very different solutions in an ongoing struggle between local traditions, the influence of a globally dominant conception of religion, and national power relations within Indonesia.

Let me conclude: I have argued that even though cultural and religious influence from India and elsewhere has influenced the Malay Archipelago for centuries, there was no evidence for nativist resistance or revitalisation until recently, because doctrinal controversies between different religions were politically integrated by means of a flexible state ritual. In contrast to this, a remarkable shift becomes evident, since Indonesian politics of religion has discouraged local nature and ancestor rituals as backward custom (adat), while it demands a doctrinal concept of scriptural monotheism for a religion. An identity discourse on Balinese agama and culture is thus a recent phenomenon, which demonstrates that the selective reconstruction of a ‘primordial’ local religion or culture is necessarily misleading and self-defying, because in order to claim their distinct identity both religion and culture have to adjust, and, as a consequence of this dialectics, they adapt mimetically to the dominant frame of power they want to surpass. The comparative aspect of Indonesian history thus teaches several lessons: foreign cultural and religious influence does not necessarily result in ‘clashes’ nor in a binary alternative of assimilation or nativism, but rather the case of Bali demonstrates that THE ‘UNFORCED FORCE’ OF RELIGIOUS IDENTIFICATION 227

Hindu and Buddhist teachings can be reconciled as complementary aspects of an integrative ritual that was based upon ancestor and nature worship. On the other hand, and in view of modern Balinese Hinduism, nativist resistance has emerged under the influence of a modern concept of religion as a consistent doctrine that normalises the multifarious ritual practice. This process emerges as the result of Indonesia’s religious politics that defines religion along the guidelines of scriptural monotheism as a coherent orthodoxy. This means in the case of Bali that both the Buddhist heritage and local traditions of nature and ancestor veneration are only implicitly preserved inasmuch as they adapt to the principles of a presumably authentic agama Hindu, and it remains to be seen whether these muted aspects of Bali’s ritual heritage are revitalized in the future.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson, Benedict (2003), Imagined Communities, Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Verso: London 2003. Antoni, Klaus (1992), “Tradition und ‘Traditionalismus’ im modernen Japan, Ein kulturanthropologischer Versuch”, in Japanstudien der Philipp-Franz-von Siebold Stiftung, Bd.3 Tokyo/ München, 1992. Coedès, Georges (1968), The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, East-West Centre Press: Honolulu 1968. Dietrich, Stefan (1995), “Islam, Handel und neue Reiche im 13. – 17. Jahrhundert”, in Arne und Eva Eggebrecht, Versunkene Königreiche Indonesiens, Mainz 1995 Eggebrecht, Arne und Eva (1995) ed., Versunkene Königreiche Indonesiens, (Ausstellungskatalog) Verlag Philipp von Zabern: Mainz 1995. Eisenstadt, Shmuel N. (2000), Die Vielfalt der Moderne, Velbrück: Göttingen 2000. Featherstone, Mike (1990) ed., Global Culture, Nationalism, Globalization, Modernity, Sage Publication: London 1990. Featherstone, Mike; Lash, Scott (1999) eds., Spaces of Culture, City— Nation—World, Sage Publications: London 1999. Geertz, Clifford (1980), Negara, The theatre state in nineteenth-century Bali, Princeton 1980. Geertz, Clifford (2000), “The World in Pieces: Culture and Politics at the End of the Century”, in Geertz, Available Light, Anthropological Reflections on Philosophical Topics, Princeton 2000. Hooykaas, C. (1973), Balinese Baudhha Brahmans, (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie der Wetenschapen, Afd. Letter- kunde, nieuwe reeks deel 80), Amsterdam 1973. Kieven, Lydia (1995), “Ost-javanische Tempelreliefs und ihre Ikonographie”, in Eggebrecht, Arne und Eva (Ed.), Versunkene König- 228 ANNETTE HORNBACHER

reiche Indonesiens (Ausstellungskatalog), Verlag Philipp von Zabern: Mainz 1995. Klokke, Marijke J. (1995), “Hinduismus und Buddhismus in Indonesien bis 1500”, in Eggebrecht, Arne und Eva (Ed.), Versunkene Königreiche Indonesiens (Ausstellungskatalog), Verlag Philipp von Zabern: Mainz 1995. Klokke, Marijike J. (1995), “Von Traumnagara bis Majapahit, Die Ge- schichte Alt-Javas”, in Eggebrecht, Arne und Eva (Ed.), Versunkene Königreiche Indonesiens (Ausstellungskatalog), Verlag Philipp von Zabern: Mainz 1995. Kulke, Hermann (1995), “Srivijaya, Ein Großreich oder die Hanse des Ostens?” In: Eggebrecht, Arne und Eva (Ed.), Versunkene Königreiche Indonesiens (Ausstellungskatalog), Verlag Philipp von Zabern: Mainz 1995. Kulke, Hermann; Rothermund, Dietmar (1998), Geschichte Indiens, Beck Verlag: München 1998. Linton, Ralph (1943), “Nativist Movements”, in American Anthropologist, New Series Vol.45, No.2 (1943). Meyer, John (2005), Weltkultur, Wie die westlichen Prinzipien die Welt durchdringen, Suhrkamp Verlag: Frankfurt am Main 2005. Nihom, Max (1994), Studies in Indian and Indo-Indonesian Tantrism, Vienna 1994. Picard, Michel (1999), “The Discourse of Kebalian: Transcultural Con- structions of Balinese Identity”, in R. Rubinstein, L. Connor (eds.), Staying Local in the Global Village: Bali in the Twentieth Century, University of Hawai’i Press: Honolulu 1999. Ramstedt, Martin (2003) ed., Hinduism in Modern Indonesia, Routledge: London 2003. Riesebrodt, Martin (2000), Die Rückkehr der Religionen, Fundamentalis- mus und der ‘Kampf der Kulturen’, Beck Verlag: München 2000. Roy, Olivier (2004), Der islamische Weg nach Westen, Globalisierung, Entwurzelung und Radikalisierung, Pantheon Verlag: München 2004. Swellengrebel, J. (1960) ed., Bali, Studies in Life, Thought, and Ritual, Introduction, The Hague and Bandung 1960 Tambiah, S.J. (1976), World Conqueror and World Renouncer, A Study of Buddhism and Polity in Thailand against a Historical Background, CUP: Cambridge, 1976. Zoetmulder, Piet (1965), “Die Hochreligionen Indonesiens”, in W. Stöhr, P. Zoetmulder, Die Religionen Indonesiens, Kohlhammer: Stuttgart 1965. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE, OR: HOW NATIVISM ENJOYED ITS 15 MINUTES OF F(R)AME IN MEDIEVAL KOREA

REMCO BREUKER (LEIDEN UNIVERSITY)

INTRODUCTION

Nativism in Korea is an understudied subject, mainly because there are very few extant sources. With the arrival of Buddhism in the states on the Korean peninsula from the 6th century onwards, alternative identity discourses sprang up that drew on sustained references to indigenous antecedents and often framed these in Buddhist concepts, but they left little textual or other traces that would allow much worthwhile discussion, 1500 years later. The only instance of nativism on the Korean peninsula that has earned steady interest from historians, is what has become known as the rebellion of Myoch’ŏng in 1135, when, according to a hegemonic historiographical tradition that stretches into the 21st century, a Buddhist monk and nativist leader called Myoch’ŏng clashed with the leader of the Confucian forces of the state and perished after a protracted civil war. This historiographical tradition has, for a number of reasons that changed over time, effectively obscured the real nature of the rebellion that nearly brought down the Koryŏ state and, for the purposes of this chapter more importantly, also obfuscated the nature of the presence and practices of nativism in Koryŏ society. Rather than a confrontation between Confucianism and nativism, the rebellion should be seen as a clash between Buddhism and the state on one side and nativism on the other side. Or to put it in philosophical terms: a clash between the proponents of an established pluralist (and hence ‘impure’) society and the advocates of a highly particularised monist nativism which had enshrined Koryŏ as the ultimate value of its pursuits. This chapter will look into Koryŏ nativism and its dramatic rise and fall during the 12th century. It will treat the violent surfacing of 230 REMCO BREUKER nativist ideology as a religico-social response by a hitherto minor Koryŏ ideology to the perceived dangers posed by Sinitic and Manchurian civilisational influences by means of constant identification with and reference to an array of ritual, religious and divinatory techniques, practices and ideas that had been part of Koryŏ society from its beginning. The rebellion was an attempt at uniting, system- atising and formalising a number of indigenous and/or informal strategies in the service of the construction of an identity discourse that privileged Koryŏ over any other value. It did so while constantly referring to invented genealogies of national ritual specialists, span- ning impossible time gaps and going back to the previous dynasty, using existing prophecies and utilising divinatory techniques such as geomancy to ‘insert’ nativist ideology into the mainstream of Koryŏ society and the state. To an important extent, nativist ideology also framed its own discourse in mainly Buddhist narratives, borrowing Buddhism’s long established prestige and simultaneously distinguishing itself from its infinitely more powerful rival. The emergence and ultimately the failure of organised Koryŏ nativism is worth looking at in more detail precisely because it failed rather dramatically in an orgy of bloodshed. Its failure allows us to isolate those factors that contributed to its emergence and demise, facilitating comparison with nativist movements elsewhere and during other periods. Myoch’ŏng only briefly took pleasure in the joys of nativist paradise, which proved to be fleeting indeed.

SOME THEORETICAL CONCERNS

Before proceeding, some words must be devoted to some of the key terms used in the conceptual framework underlying this paper. Central to the understanding of the Koryŏ period is the notion of pluralism. In this chapter, I will use pluralism in the sense of an ideology that allows the existence of contradictions and inconsis- tencies between its constituent parts. Pluralism in this sense accepts the alternative or simultaneous use of contradictory and incom- mensurable approaches, but ‘unifies’ these in one—aggregative instead of synthesised—worldview. There is a wealth of historical O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 231 evidence attesting to this.1 It is important not to confuse pluralism with relativism. While pluralism acknowledges and allows contradictions to exist, it does not relativise their fundamental differences; it utilises them.2 Simultaneously, it is perhaps even more important to differentiate pluralism and syncretism, since they are often thought of as more or less synonymous. Simply put, whereas syncretism incorporates different elements (with differing degrees of completion) into a new entity (in which one element may come to dominate), pluralism does not do so, but instead maintains the differences. Pluralism and syncretism are ways to construct multi- layered identities designed to deal with complicated circumstances and outside influences. As Renato Rosaldo (1989:216) put it in his study of the borderlands of identity formation, “nothing is thrust out, the good, the bad and the ugly, nothing rejected, nothing abandoned”. Or, as one historian put it when discussing the different notions of truth and falsity in medieval England: “[…S]omething like ‘recognition of the impossibility of deciding,’ or ‘non-recognition of any need to decide,’ perhaps construed not as an intellectual defeat but as an achievement, the capacity to hold on to one’s lack of certainty” (Pearsall 2003:10). As opposed to pluralism and syncretism, there is the notion of monism. At once the opposite value of pluralism and syncretism, monism is the notion (which may be articulated into a system of thought, an ideology, a set of religious beliefs) that reality is formed by a single ultimate principle or kind of being instead of two or more. Pluralism in the sense that I use it, acknowledges the possible existence of more than one ultimate principle. Syncretism attempts to unify different principles. Monism, however, categorically denies the possibility of the existence of different ultimate principles. A concrete consequence of the notion of monism is that it often actively acts against what is perceived as ‘impurity’, the mingling of ideas of different provenances. Further, the concept of nativism in Koryŏ is problematic, but I understand it here as a broad complex of beliefs and ideas in which

1 For a detailed study of Koryŏ pluralism, see Breuker (2010). 2 For an abstract elaboration of pluralism in this sense, see Feyerabend (1999). For an insightful treatment of pluralism in the anthropological field, see Rosaldo (1989). 232 REMCO BREUKER the idea of Koryŏ takes precedence over any other value. It was held by various Koryŏ literati, monks, and other persons and demanded the unconditional privileging of Koryŏ over anything else. Again, the lack of sources hampers our understanding of Koryŏ nativism, but the available evidence points at the existence of nativism as a self- conscious religious system that employed nativistic strategies in the construction of its identity discourse. Its historiographical narrative strategies seem to have focused on the construction of mythical genealogies which connected the 12th century nativist leaders with their predecessors of much earlier times, while referring to an array of indigenous religious and divinatory techniques. It came to feature in a defining clash between the dominant pluralist worldview and nativism’s newly constructed monist worldview which rejected foreign and impure influences. To a certain extent, it can be argued that the nativist leaders of the 12th century perceived themselves as standing at the helm of a “social movement that proclaims the return to power of the natives of a colonised area and the resurgence of native culture, along with the decline of the colonisers”.3 For Myoch’ŏng and his followers, Koryŏ was ‘colonised’ by Sinitic and Manchurian influences, both religious, political, economical and at times military. Finally, the idea of ‘framing’ needs to be discussed concisely. Framing is the act of enclosing the main narrative of a discourse with other narratives that comment upon and set in context the primary narrative. This is a useful way to understand the processes through which non-hegemonic systems of belief present their discourse and make it understandable and familiar by framing it in available pre- existing (sections of) discourses of the hegemonic, in this case Bud- dhist, belief system. Such processes are never straightforward, but consist of intricate and never-ending complexities of mixing, reframing, and rejection of available ideas and practices. The concept of framing offers the benefit of providing a wider descriptive category which makes it possible to better understand how nativist strategies were defined vis-à-vis pre-existing and established belief and thought systems. In such a way, it becomes apparent that nativist strategies are per se and per definition a special case of the framing of discourse.

3 Excerpted from the on-line Columbia Encyclopedia, sixth edition, 2007. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 233

KORYŎ’S NATIVIST REBELLION

This is not the place to take a detailed look at the 1135 rebellion which is usually referred to as Myoch’ŏng’s rebellion in historiography. It is necessary, however, to briefly sketch what happened and how mainstream historiography has tended to view the rebellion in order to appreciate how the study of Koryŏ nativism has been shaped by it. In 1135 the Western Capital rebelled in the name of Myoch’ŏng, a nativist ritual specialist who had become increasingly popular at court in the preceding eight years, polarising the political factions there. Myoch’ŏng declared a new state called T’aewi, issued the reign name of Ch’ŏn’gae (Heavenly Opening) and organised an army which was called Loyal Righteousness.4 He declared he would elevate the Koryŏ ruler to the status of Son of Heaven and conquer Koryŏ’s northern neighbours, the Manchurian Jin state. Koryŏ was effectively torn in two and the ruler sent Koryŏ statesman and scholar Kim Pushik to the Western Capital to quell the rebellion. Within a few weeks, Myoch’ŏng and his most intimate followers were dead (killed by the rebels themselves nonetheless), but the rebellion went on without them for another year. It was finally quelled in 1136 at great economic and social cost. The rebellion was and remains one of the most well-known events of Korean history. It has been mainly interpreted as an anti-Confucian rebellion, staged by Buddhists and nativists. Out of the rebellion, during a period of nine centuries divergent essentialised readings of the past and present of the Korean peninsula were constructed by different people in different eras. In the early 20th century, a prominent nationalist intellectual called the rebellion the greatest event in a thousand years of Korean history, construing a new narrative that claimed the origins of Korea’s contemporary colonial predicament were located in the 1136 defeat by Confucianism of Buddhism.5 The picture of nativism that arises from research in this vein is anti-colonial rather than anti-Confucian or anti-Buddhist. This interpretation has proven to be very influential, although recent research has shown that the rebellion, if anything, was aimed at state-sponsored Buddhism; that

4 Koryŏsa chŏr’yo [hereafter KSC] 10:15b; Tong munsŏn [hereafter TMS] 23:18a–b. 5 Shin Ch’aeho (1995), II:103–24. 234 REMCO BREUKER

Kim Pushik was as much a Buddhist as he was a Confucian; and that Myoch’ŏng had little or nothing to do with the rebellion, but was merely used on account of his fame and his ideas.6

RITUAL SPECIALISTS IN KORYŎ

The first mention of Myoch’ŏng dates from 1127,7 when he already possessed something of a reputation as a geomancer and thaumaturg, although there are no sources that explain his background.8 Myoch’ŏng is described as a monk, but it is actually doubtful whether he was a monk. Much of the emphasis given to his Buddhist credentials came in later periods and served clear propagandistic purposes (Myoch’ŏng became an emblem of the depravity of Buddhism in Neo-Confucian times).9 This is not to say he had no connection to Buddhism at all and was ignorant of it. Like many other ritual specialists, his knowledge of Buddhist ritual and practice must have been more than cursory. Some of the rituals he performed at the Koryŏ court and the names he gave the eight spirits whom he thought would protect the country seem to imply a reasonably intimate knowledge of Koryŏ Buddhism.10 Myoch’ŏng also claimed to be a disciple’s disciple of Sŏn master and geomancer Tosŏn, although his insistence that he was a third generation disciple of someone who had lived three centuries earlier is not entirely convincing.11 Myoch’ŏng is habitually treated as a unique person,

6 See Breuker 2010:407–45; Breuker 2007:69–107. 7 KSC 9:29b–30a; Koryŏsa [hereafter KS] 16:22a; KS 127:26b–27a. 8 The fact that Kim Pushik, who opposed Myoch’ŏng from the beginning and who led the pacification of the rebellion, compiled the Veritable Records for the reign of Injong suggests that they may contain biased descriptions of Myoch’ŏng. Unfortunately, there are no other sources concerning Myoch’ŏng’s background. 9 See Breuker (2007). 10 And also of Koryŏ Daoism and Koryŏ lore. KS 15:22a; KS 127:28b–29b; KSC 9:29b–30a; KSC 9:54b–55a; Jorgensen 1998:222–55. 11 Due to the absolute lack of other sources, nothing about Myoch’ŏng can be verified, but his insistence that there was only one other person between him and Tosŏn must either have been a symbolical statement, situating him in the lineage of Koryŏ’s most important geomancers, or otherwise a less than generous representation of Myoch’ŏng’s lineage by Kim Pushik. As will be shown, Myoch’ŏng was part of a tradition of Koryŏ geomancers who habitually traced their professional lineage back to Tosŏn. The geomantic manuals ascribed to Tosŏn were

O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 235 someone whose personal characteristics and timed emergence in history made him an ‘accident of history’ and whose actions were unpredictable and remain hard to comprehend. This, however, is nothing but mystification. It is the fact that there are few extant sources on Myoch’ŏng which makes it difficult to research him, not his purported special status. If anything, the historiographical tradition that singled out Myoch’ŏng for special treatment has obfuscated the long line of very similar figures he emerged from and firmly belonged to. He belonged to a group of ritual specialists who were mainly active outside of the official state structure, but who at times and in particular through personal patronage gained access to the bureaucracy. There are no extant sources written by these ritual specialists,12 but there is much to be culled from circumstantial evidence, that is, the sources written by people who were active within the bureaucracy and the state structure.13 The reception Myoch’ŏng was given at court may serve as a good indicator of the status enjoyed by the group of ritual specialists he belonged to. When Myoch’ŏng rose to prominence at the Koryŏ court, resistance against him was not focused on his beliefs per se. Indeed, it was focused on his person. These criticisms took the format of time-tested rebuttals of the credibility of geomantic readings of the landscape by persons positioned outside of the state. The possibility of reading the landscape, the significance of proper results of such readings or the efficacy of the relevant rituals were not questioned.14 Whether Myoch’ŏng was the right person to undertake these by all means important tasks was another question. It is in the attacks directed at the person of Myoch’ŏng that we catch glimpses of the role of ritual specialists in Koryŏ. The attack on Myoch’ŏng was spearheaded by a Song émigré who was intimately familiar with the havoc wrought by a Song reader of the Koryŏ geomancer’s most important theoretical tools. 12 The dynastic annals for Koryŏ mention a number of works written by ritual specialists, but none of these survive. 13 The phenomenal work done by Yannick Bruneton (2002) on geomancer- monks gives a good idea of how important these ritual specialists were in Koryŏ. 14 To give but one example: when Yi Chahyŏn, who was a high official and belonged to Koryŏ’s most powerful lineage, decided to withdraw from official life to become a hermit, he went to the famous geomancer Ŭn Wŏnch’ung to ask for a suitable place to build his hermitage. See P’ahanjip 1:58. 236 REMCO BREUKER the landscape whose flawed application of yin-yang theories had brought military disaster upon the Song.15 It is of importance to notice here that this attack on Myoch’ŏng was fierce and demanded that he be beheaded, but that it was entirely aimed at the person of Myoch’ŏng. Implicit in this attack was the assumption that the landscape and the state were inextricably tied to each other and that strange phenomena (of which Myoch’ŏng had staged more than a few, such as when he floated a homemade dragon in the Taedong River, proclaiming it to be a heavenly sign) were portents related to the welfare of the state. When Myoch’ŏng turned out to be well supported at court, all criticism directed at his person lost its efficacy.16 The reason why criticism directed against Myoch’ŏng’s methods and ideas was ineffective was that his methods and ideas were time-tested, well-entrenched notions in Koryŏ society.17 These ideas had no place in the political and policy debates held in the capital; they were informal, loosely defined and belonged to the realm of the ritual specialists. Although the bureaucrats in the capital would have been familiar with these ideas, they would have known them from a non-professional context; the services of ritual specialists were requested by the state only on special occasions. In general, they rendered their services on behalf of the great lineages, private individuals18 or even temples. They divined the future, identified proper places for burial and were consulted when important decisions had to be made. There are records of such specialists being hired for specific purposes; in general, they would not have had a permanent position, but lived and worked on the strength of their reputation to accurately forecast or counsel. A reference from the 12th century clearly states that nativist ritual specialists (ritual specialists who relied predominantly on peninsular knowledge and techniques) were considered a group separate from

15 Lin Lingsu was actually a Daoist, but for the sake of argument, Im Wan transformed him into a geomancer, the Koryŏ equivalent of the Song Daoist master. See TMS 52:18a–21b. 16 Myoch’ŏng became all but unassailable at court, as he was heavily protected by the political faction that had introduced him at court. 17 Breuker 2010:407–45. 18 Again, Yi Chahyŏn (cf. note 14) is an obvious example of such an individual. He had the most famous geomancer of the day, Ŭn Wŏnch’ung, divine where he should build his hermitage (which came to include more than ten buildings!). O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 237

Buddhist and Daoist ritual specialists. The reference is a complaint against “those adherents of Ŭn Wŏnch’ung” (a famous nativist ritual specialist of the period) who wanted to claim a famous pluralist Koryŏ literatus, renowned for his mastery of Confucian, Buddhist, Daoist and nativist practices and techniques, as a nativist and only a nativist.19 Despite the prevalent trend in historiography to depict these ritual specialists, often readers of the landscape, as Buddhist monks, recent research has shown that the ties between these representatives of nativism and institutional Buddhism were very weak.20 This is not to say that Buddhism did not exercise far- reaching influence over the ritual specialists. Monks who made a living by selling their geomantic knowledge, moreover, were a common phenomenon in Koryŏ.21 In as much as the scarce sources allow us to extrapolate such influences, it is clear that at the very least, the idiom these specialists used and the way they presented themselves and their notions, were framed in immediately recognisable Buddhist concepts, rituals and language.22 Ritual specialists and their ideas, then, would have been familiar sights for most if not all of Koryŏ’s inhabitants. That which made Myoch’ŏng unusual in short was not his occupation, his background, his ideas or his claims. The transfer of his ideas, however, into the political realm –where they stood a good chance to become principles upon which policies were made– was novel and unusual. In the end, it would also prove to be Myoch’ŏng’s downfall.23 The important point here is that Myoch’ŏng’s ascendancy into the heart of the Koryŏ state’s political world was unprecedented. After him, ritual specialists would once again be outsiders; from the perspective of the state at least. Active outside of the state’s administrative structure, they competed with the state by claiming the landscape as a mediating factor, effectively politicising the results (prophecies, counsel) of their personalised and delimited readings of the landscapes. Normally, these activities produced competition for the use of the landscape as a source of legitimation

19 TMS 65:9b–10a. 20 Vermeersch (2001; 2008). 21 Bruneton (2002). 22 For excellent detail, see Jorgensen (1998). 23 Breuker 2010:407–45. 238 REMCO BREUKER for the state. The state’s uses of the landscape included the enfeoffment of local spirits of mountains and streams,24 the explicit connection forged between the landscape and the rulers through elaborate local and national rituals,25 the identification of domestic landscapes with places of transnational religious significance (such as the Buddhist enterprise of remapping the peninsula as a Buddhist space), the enfeoffment of members of the ruling class as protectors of the landscape and the incorporation of the landscape into the state structure by the construction of buildings on locations deemed to possess special significance–in historical, geomantic, religious or other terms. With Myoch’ŏng’s meteoric rise to influence, however, the balance between the different uses of the landscape as a source of legitimation was completely upset. Given the importance of the rebellion following upon Myoch’ŏng’s ascendancy and the consequences it was perceived to have had not only for Koryŏ but also for contemporary Korea, it is hardly surprising that studies of nativism have habitually focused on Myoch’ŏng as representative of the nativist movement instead of an extreme offshoot. When studying Myoch’ŏng and his ideas it must not be overlooked that although he belonged to a tradition of Koryŏ nativist ritual specialists, the political dimensions of his career distorted and altered commonly accepted notions. The notion of Koryŏ as ultimate principle can easily be understood as a natural consequence of the primacy of the landscape in nativist ritual and thought. This notion changed into what may philosophically be termed monism when nativist ritual, brought to the court by Myoch’ŏng, was heavily politicised. Emphasis on the unique qualities of Koryŏ’s landscape smoothly translated into international Koryŏ supremacy. An added catalyst for the alteration of unrefined nativist ideas into monist idealism under Myoch’ŏng may perhaps be located in the underprivileged position of most nativist ritual specialists in a pluralist Koryŏ society. After Myoch’ŏng, when the more obvious wounds in Koryŏ society had more or less healed, ritual specialists once more gained access to the bureaucracy on an incidental basis, showing that they

24 KS 4:17b. 25 See for example KS 3:23b; KS 2:34a; KS 9:34a; KS 13:12b. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 239 occupied their own niche in Koryŏ society. Let us now take a look at what remains to be pieced together about the stock ideas and notions of nativist ritual specialists.

THE KORYŎ CAULDRON

A lack of sources hinders understanding of Koryŏ nativism and how it constructed its identity vis-à-vis its competitors. A reconstruction of nativism’s formation must necessarily lean heavily on inference, supposition, and circumstantial evidence. Nonetheless, with due care it is possible to construe a picture of how nativism emerged in middle Koryŏ. There were several factors at work in the Koryŏ cauldron that shaped the form of Koryŏ nativism, in particular Koryŏ’s pluralism. The Koryŏ state (935–1392) relied on a codified form of pluralism socially, intellectually, religiously, and also internationally, often recognising two suzerains at the same time, while perceiving of its own ruler as a Son of Heaven as well. The widespread Koryŏ practice of not choosing, of maintaining ambiguity would prove to be the dominant ingredient in the cauldron out of which came Koryŏ’s own brand of nativism. It is hard to speak of Koryŏ nativism as a system, since there are too few extant sources to allow the extrapolation necessary in order to reach such a conclusion. Despite the dearth of sources, modern Korean historiography has from the late 19th century onwards recognised nativism as a major indigenous religious system. There are many different approaches to and definitions of this indigenous Korean religious system, but it remains mainly defined by modern scholars in opposition to Neo-Confucianism and with strong reference to the international situation Korea found itself in early in the 20th century.26 Many of the histories and supposed antecedents as well as the invented continuities between the nativisms of different periods date from this period. The nativism reconstructed in the studies of some of Korea’s foremost historians during this period merits a separate study; although it is often conflated with the traces

26 Intellectuals representative of this trend were among others Ch’oe Namsŏn, Shin Ch’aeho and Yi Nŭnghwa, all of whom had a great interest in antiquity and in constructing metanarratives that merged nation, nativist religion and Korean history. 240 REMCO BREUKER of nativism found in the extant sources from much earlier periods, historical nativism and the 19th/20th-century ‘neo-nativism’ should be distinguished. Having said that, I surmise that an in-depth study of ‘neo-nativism’ would yield results that would benefit the study of nativism in Buddhist environments in general, although in analytical terms it would be difficult to understand an invented religious system without believers.27 If the 19th/20th-century accretions to the story of Myoch’ŏng are taken away, unfortunately not very much remains. There has been a well-constructed and immaculately researched argument favouring Myoch’ŏng as the author of the Tan’gun myth, the constitutive racial myth of the Korean people (Jorgensen 1998). Despite the attractive solution it offers to one of the conundrums of Korean history (where did the Tan’gun myth come from?), this argument completely rests on inference.28 Connecting the Tan’gun myth with Myoch’ŏng would in itself be an instance of designing antecedents. What can be salvaged from the sources, is that Myoch’ŏng did indeed create almost impeccable antecedents for himself. He emphasised that he was part of the tradition of the peninsula’s greatest geomancers and ritual specialists and a third-generation disciple of Tosŏn by way of Kang Chŏnghwa (about whom nothing else is known).29 This claim was wholly conventional; every

27 One notable exception may be Taejonggyo, a nativist religious system that sprang up in the late 19th century and built its ideas and teachings around the mythical figure of Tan’gun (who is supposed to have descended to earth in 2.333 BC). 28 The analysis of Buddhist influences in Myoch’ŏng’s rituals and narratives is outstanding. The inference that he was the author of the Tan’gun myth is to my mind a non-sequitur, although it is equally hard to prove that he was not the author. 29 This invented genealogy not only spans three centuries, bridged by three people, but the fact that Myoch’ŏng referred to Tosŏn as the original ritual master also indicates the invented nature of the genealogy. Tosŏn only became important to the Koryŏ state as a geomancer in the eleventh century, 150 years after his death. The Koryŏ dynasty’s relationship with Tosŏn dates from the reign of Hyŏnjong. During the reign of Injong, Tosŏn was posthumously awarded an appointment as national preceptor. The concerned edict also mentioned that “Hyŏnjong revered Tosŏn and Sukchong elevated him to the precious status of royal preceptor.” An accompanying bureaucratic letter of appointment recorded the invented story of Tosŏn’s prophecy with regard to the birth of Wang Kŏn. As he emerges from this inscription Tosŏn is a figure of enormous importance for Koryŏ from the reign of Hyŏnjong on. Other sources confirm the stature of Tosŏn in early to middle Koryŏ: a stele inscription of Ch’oe Yuch’ŏng (1094–1173) on the occasion of the posthumous bestowal of the title of national preceptor Sŏn’gak to Tosŏn from 1150 is the first

O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 241 geomancer worth his salt claimed to be or considered himself a disciple of Tosŏn.30 Interestingly, Myoch’ŏng also claimed possession of some of Tosŏn’s secret writings and hence initiation into his lineage. There might be a parallel with Sŏn Buddhism here and the way Sŏn masters initiate their students into their lineage. This would seem to be an instance of nativism framing its lineage discourse by drawing on Sŏn Buddhist lineage narratives. Tosŏn was a Sŏn monk who according to myth counselled the father of the future founder of the Koryŏ state in the late 9th century. As far as can be determined, he and his writings played an important role in the establishment of credentials for ritual specialists.31 Just like Tosŏn and his contemporaries had framed their nativist discourse with Buddhist terminology, 12th-century ritual specialists such as Myoch’ŏng framed their discourse with Tosŏn’s invented genealogy. Myoch’ŏng was successful in having people believe that his teachings had been handed down to him from ancient times. Even the ruler mentioned this fact in one of his edicts, announcing the realisation of an idea of Myoch’ŏng.32

more or less reliable source on Tosŏn’s life. Tosŏn’s biography is further elaborated upon in Kim Kwanŭi’s Koryŏ segye, a genealogy of the Wang lineage included in the Koryŏsa. Kim Kwanŭi’s genealogy is utterly unreliable as a historical source for the early Koryŏ period, but it is of great significance as a source for twelfth-century Koryŏ. The account in the Koryŏ segye of Tosŏn’s well-known visit to Kaesŏng and the prophecy he made there about Wang Kŏn’s birth and his eventual unification of the Three Han was written at a much later date than the late ninth century in which Tosŏn was active. Tosŏn’s gradual transformation from a historical person into a figure of myth was reinforced by this account; later sources on Tosŏn are historically speaking completely unreliable, but nonetheless added much to the Tosŏn lore. See Breuker (2008) for details and references. KS 127:26b–29b. Sŏn’gak kuksa Tosŏn-ŭi shing yŏn’gu, ed. Yŏngsam-gun (Yŏngam: Yŏngam-gun, 1988). Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn 1975:101–46; 1988:27–239; 1989:65–92. 30 KS 127:30a. 31 In a partly extant memorial dating probably from the late eleventh-century geomancy expert Kim Wije (fl. late eleventh century–early twelfth century) pleads for the transfer of the capital to the southern capital, citing works by Tosŏn that are no longer extant (KS 122:3b). The text mentions that the famous geomancer Ŭn Wŏnch’ung had also presented a similar memorial to Yejong, which means somewhere between 1105 and 1122. 32 “A foolish person, I have succeeded to the undertaking of my ancestors. I have met adversity and experienced upheavals several times. Accordingly, I have worked day and night in order to revitalise the country. An ancient precept says: ‘Once in

242 REMCO BREUKER

Tosŏn presents an interesting figure as an antecedent for a nativist movement. He was a Sŏn monk who according to his (largely invented) biography had travelled to China to master the art of geomancy. He then returned to the peninsula, practising his art and counselling the lineage that would produce the unifier of the peninsula one generation later. Buddhism had been the peninsula’s main religion for over two centuries when Tosŏn was active. It had been indigenised to the extent that it was claimed the Shilla kingdom on the peninsula was the original land of the Buddha. Temple ruins had actually been dug up to attest to this illustrious past.33 None- theless, an indigenous religious system like shamanism was still very different from Buddhism.34 Buddhism was certainly thought to have been imported. On the other hand, Tosŏn’s mastery of geomancy, an art that came to be quintessentially nativist in later centuries, was also learnt abroad. Even if Tosŏn never left the peninsula, his well- known biography still stated that Tosŏn had gone to China to learn it. At first sight, then, his credentials are somewhat dubious for a nativist symbol. The reasons Tosŏn was chosen to fulfil the position of the nativist movement’s most important symbol and measure of reference lie elsewhere. The clash between Myoch’ŏng’s nativist faction and what is in most historiography perceived as the Confucian faction in fact never took place.35 The rebellion was a rebellion of the Western Capital (present-day P’yŏngyang), instigated by an anti-reformist faction in the capital which used Myoch’ŏng’s charisma, ritual knowledge and anti-Jin ideology to attack its main enemy, the faction led by Kim every several ten thousand years the day of the winter solstice will meet the kapcha day. The moon, the sun and the five planets will gather in the north. This is the fifteenth of the first month of the lunar calendar and with it, our calendar starts. Since the creation of heaven and earth, the way of the sages has started from there.’ This year the winter solstice is the sixth day of the eleventh month and that night is a kapcha day. It is the first of the three kapcha days. On this occasion, I intend to abolish the old institutions and create new ones. Based upon the teachings of the ancients, I have accordingly ordered officials to build the Taehwa-gung palace in the Western Capital. Let the princes, nobles, all officials and the people work together to revitalise our politics and let us forever bestow felicity upon the following generations!” KS 16:21a–b. 33 Grayson 2004:103–20. 34 Mohan 1998:333–52. 35 Breuker 2010:407–45; Breuker (2007). O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 243

Pushik.36 When Myoch’ŏng had outlived his use, he was ruthlessly decapitated and handed over to Kim Pushik who by then had laid siege to the Western Capital. This happened within one month of the outbreak of the rebellion, which would continue with another year of extremely heavy fighting. In other words, there never was a Confucian-nativist clash, and hence understanding of Koryŏ nativism has been severely hampered because it has consistently been reconstructed in opposition to Confucianism.37 In fact, Koryŏ nativism reinvented itself continuously in opposition to the state and its Buddhism, and to foreign, in particular Manchurian, influences. The reason Myoch’ŏng chose Tosŏn as the indigenous example he held himself up to, was that Tosŏn and his landscape reading activities could be imagined not to be part of the state, but outside of it: Myoch’ŏng’s nativism was predicated upon the state as antagonist. This almost automatically meant that his nativism was also predicated upon state-sponsored Buddhism as an antagonist. His movement’s antecedents were designed to turn the state’s weapons, Buddhism and the landscape as sources of legitimacy, against itself, because Tosŏn possessed legitimacy with regard to both. Myoch’ŏng framed his nativist discourse with well-known narratives of the Koryŏ landscape and of Buddhism and turned against Koryŏ society’s fundamentally pluralist orientation. In the first half of the 12th century, Koryŏ was faced with several crisis situations: the collapse of the Liao at their northern frontier, the emergence of the Jurchen also at their northern frontier, severe social and political schisms in society, coup attempts at court. Roughly a century before, the Koryŏ court had faced very similar problems. One of the measures taken then had been the codification of Koryŏ identity and its pluralist Weltanschauung through the apocryphal Ten injunctions attributed to the founder of the dynasty, creating false but authoritative antecedents for Koryŏ’s now codified way of looking at the world and dealing with it.38 The bandwidth of the injunctions had

36 Who is ironically known as a conservative Confucian scholar, but in reality was much closer to a pluralist reformist, perhaps even a revolutionary. See Breuker 2007:317–49. 37 Or perhaps one should say in opposition to 19th-century Neo-Confucianism? The different stories of Myoch’ŏng’s rebellion through the centuries can be read as metaphors for contemporary anxieties. 38 Breuker (2008). 244 REMCO BREUKER given the policies based on them both flexibility and a clear sense of identity. A century later, however, instead of reinforcing Koryŏ identity through its pluralist Weltanschauung, Myoch’ŏng’s unambiguous perception of Koryŏ, its destiny and the world had gained the upper hand. The eclectic nature of his ideas notwithstanding,39 Myoch’ŏng proved himself to be more of a conservative than his main antagonist, Kim Pushik. Kim Pushik worked on his vision of a revitalised Koryŏ, drawing on Song Confucian scholarship, in which power structures would be stable and centralised; by no means a conservative policy, because it meant challenging the authority of the established lineages. The fact that Kim Pushik used Confucian techniques to achieve his goals has drawn attention away from the fact that simultaneously he was open to other ideas, concepts, beliefs and approaches.40 Myoch’ŏng was not concerned with power politics at this level; he strove for what Chantal Mouffe called the ‘impossible good’, an unambiguous way of living and acting for Koryŏ, and in doing so came to suffer from what Michael Oakeshott has termed superbia, an exclusive concern with his own utterances.41 His geomantic prowess, however, seems to have been wholly convincing to his contemporaries, many of whom attached credence to his prophesy that if the Koryŏ capital would be moved to the Western Capital, where the earth force had not been exhausted, the dynasty would prosper and 36 states would come and pay tribute to Koryŏ.42

39 It is doubtful whether Myoch’ŏng would have considered his ideas eclectic, given the long association in Koryŏ of elements from Buddhism, geomancy and yin- yang theories. A lack of sources precludes any conclusions, but this should be kept in mind when analyzing Myoch’ŏng’s ideas. It should also not be forgotten that this mix of landscape interpretation, prophecies and active politics was well-known and established in Koryŏ. 40 Breuker 2010:317–49. 41 “For each voice is prone to superbia, that is, an exclusive concern with its own utterance, which may result in its identifying the conversation with itself and its speaking as if it were only speaking to itself. And when this happens, barbarism may be observed to have supervened.” Oakeshott 1962:492. 42 KSC 9:42a–b; KSC 9:44b; KSC 9:56a–b; KSC 10:2a–b; KS 127:27b. Tosŏn was also credited with a similar prophesy. In a memorial submitted by Kim Wije, Tosŏn is credited with the following prophesy: ‘In Koryŏ there are three capitals. Songak (Kaesŏng) is to be the central capital, Mongmyŏngyang (Seoul) the Southern Capital, and P’yŏngyang the Western Capital. If in the eleventh, twelfth, first and second months the king resides in the central capital, in the third, fourth,

O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 245

In the 12th century, Buddhism had been the peninsula’s dominant religion for over eight centuries. It was not Buddhism, however, that drew the ire of Myoch’ŏng and his followers, but rather perceived growing influences from China and in particular Manchuria (where first the Liao and from 1125 the Jin state had ruled) on Koryŏ’s ways of life. Its association with China, and more importantly Manchuria, was however relatively young and gave rise to all sorts of internal problems. Myoch’ŏng agitated against the Jin, whom he wanted to conquer and destroy. Anxiety over foreign influences on religious practices had been a constant worry since the founding of the dynasty.43 The rise of nativist traditions in 12th-century Koryŏ should be predicated on two things: upon Koryŏ’s pluralist view of the world and upon its international contacts and exchange practices. The nativist response advocated a drastic reversal of Koryŏ’s policies until then, beginning with the northward relocation of the capital from Kaegyŏng to the Western Capital. Befitting the relocation to the old capital of the ancient Koguryŏ kingdom (P’yŏngyang has been a capital for two millennia), Myoch’ŏng also demanded that the dual status of the Koryŏ ruler (Koryŏ possessed both a royal and an imperial system in which the ruler was king and emperor) be fifth and sixth months the king resides in the southern capital, and in the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth months the king resides in the Western Capital, then the thirty-six states of the world will offer tribute.’ See KS 122:1a–3b. Translation from Lee 1993:434. 43 This memorial from the late tenth century is representative for this anxiety: “Since our august ancestor’s inception of the dynasty, we have preserved our sovereignty to this day. Now, without a single loyal official voicing objection, we rashly want to surrender land to the enemy. Is this not lamentable indeed? The ancients had a poem: A vast territory is disposed of in a casual manner, The civil and military officials of the two courts reproached Jiao Zhou. Jiao Zhou was a great minister of Shu in China who urged his young ruler to give up land to Wei, thus becoming the joke of eternity. I propose that we bring Xiao Xunning with gold, silver, and other treasures to discover his real intentions. And rather than rashly cutting off land and handing it over to appease an enemy, is it not better to renew practice of the Lantern Festival, the Assembly of the Eight Prohibitions, and the Immortal Lad to elicit spiritual protection, as was done under our former kings? Is this not a better way to preserve the state and achieve peace than to resort to the strange practices of others? If we are to do this, we ought first to report to our deities. As to whether there be war or peace, Your Majesty alone should decide.” KSC 2:51a–b; KS 94:3a–b. Translation from Lee 1993:430. I changed the romanisation of the Chinese names to pinyin. 246 REMCO BREUKER abolished in favour of the permanent and unambiguous elevation the Koryŏ ruler to the position of emperor, making him the equal of the Jin emperor. Finally, the nativist faction urged Koryŏ to attack and conquer the Manchurian Jin state, Koryŏ’s northern neighbour and the strongest East Asian state at that moment. Such a Koryŏ-centric view of the world was not unique to nativists. Kim Pushik shared it as well, but whereas Kim Pushik was a seasoned diplomat who recognised the existence of other states and acted accordingly, Myoch’ŏng and his followers had no international experience. Their field of activity had always been restricted to parts of Koryŏ.44 Myoch’ŏng’s Koryŏ-centrism was unmitigated by experience or expedience, while Kim Pushik had been abroad several times and could gauge the strength of Koryŏ to a much more precise degree. Kim Pushik had also tried to preserve Koryŏ’s pluralist approach to the world, as a consequence of which he had no insurmountable problems with recognising the Jin as Koryŏ’s suzerain. Myoch’ŏng’s response, on the other hand, showed his insistence on idealist politics and his monist idealism which allowed but one principle: Koryŏ supremacy. The resistance against Myoch’ŏng and his eventual defeat do not point at the unpopularity of his ideas. On the contrary, his initial success (which lasted for years) clearly demonstrates their widespread popularity. As discussed before, his ideas were in no sense new or revolutionary, but successfully drew on older, similar ideas. Along the way, however, Myoch’ŏng lost most of his prominent followers. Significantly, his most important supporters were experienced statesmen, diplomats, military officials and scholars, who turned their backs on him when it became clear that he pursued a policy that would turn Koryŏ into a state that would no longer recognise the validity of different worldviews.45 In the case of early 12th-century Koryŏ, it was not the arrival of a new religious system that caused the emergence of alternative identity discourses with sustained references to presumed indigenous antecedents. Instead, it seems to have been provoked by several factors: first, the long-time and pervasive Manchurian influences

44 As far as can be ascertained, none of his loyal followers had ever been abroad. This was highly unusual at the time for bureaucrats and members of the aristocracy. 45 Breuker 2003:81, n.101. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 247 from the just defunct Liao state;46 second, the equally long Sinitic influences; third, the replacement of the Liao state by the infinitely more aggressive Jin state at the northern border; fourth, the failure of Koryŏ’s pluralist society (supported by the state) to effectively deal with these problems; fifth, the unprecedented political support Myoch’ŏng received and which saw him move to the centre of political power. Liao influence had been particularly pervasive in Koryŏ religious life; Buddhist scriptures were often received from Liao, religious statues and other paraphernalia were either imported from or influenced by Liao, and Liao architecture even exercised a formative influence on Koryŏ religious wood architecture. The sum of these factors created a critical mass of anxiety in the early 12th century, giving nativism as propagated by Myoch’ŏng the momentum to come together and enter the national stage as a movement. The rebellion was suppressed. The suppression took a long time and swallowed so many resources that even the south of the peninsula was said to suffer heavily from the civil war, but in the end the state and Kim Pushik prevailed. The nativist element in the rebellion had died in the first month when the rebels handed over Myoch’ŏng to Kim Pushik: Myoch’ŏng had been beheaded before being handed over. This often overlooked fact says much about nativism in Koryŏ, in particular about its level of organisation. In a different paper, I showed how nativism, and Myoch’ŏng in particular, had been used and abused by political factions in the capital, who needed Myoch’ŏng’s charisma and the popularity of his ideas to swing the balance of power to their own advantage (Breuker 2007). It is fair to say that Myoch’ŏng’s movement was an ad hoc movement, gathered around its charismatic leader. There is no evidence that nativist ritual specialists in Koryŏ were truly organised. Nativist ideology had always been held in check by the fact that ritual specialists (be they prophesiers, geomancers or ritual technicians) were able to find semi-official employment and mostly informal recognition of their abilities within the hegemonic system that preferred a multitude of different religious ideologies to operate simultaneously in Koryŏ. The level of organisation of local traditions

46 For a more detailed account of Koryŏ-Liao influences, see Breuker 2010:195– 256. 248 REMCO BREUKER was low outside of the state structure. What happened in Koryŏ was that a rather loosely organised band of nativist ritual specialists all of a sudden was put in the middle of a political and social organisation in the capital, unleashing an incontrollable momentum that culminated in the rebellion of 1135. As is shown by the unfolding of the rebellion, nativism in Koryŏ certainly was not ready for this level of organisation.47 The momentum it gained in 1135 was transferred from the political faction that, for its own reasons, had used Myoch’ŏng to help realise its (partly overlapping) goals. The nativist movement was for a large part constructed and invented by this

47 There is an instructive parallel which shows how Koryŏ nativism revolved around individuals, rather than an organisation. As late as 1158, when the last remnants of the Liao dynasty had long been defeated, an astrologer of the bureau of astrology, Yu Wŏndo (d.u.) wrote a memorial to the throne that propagated relocating the capital to the north (to Mount T’o in Paekchu) and conquering the Jin from there. This memorial was eerily similar to what Myoch’ŏng suggested Koryŏ should do, yet the astrologer who submitted his memorial in 1158 was not punished, let alone that he started a rebellion. The petition was heeded by the ruler, Ŭijong, who promptly sent assistant-chancellor Ch’oe Yunŭi to T’osan in Paekchu to scout the terrain. Ch’oe reported that the place mentioned by Yu Wŏndo was excellent; it was surrounded by mountains and the aquatic force was smooth (which was identical to P’yŏngyang’s geomantic features), and this made it a perfect place to build a palace there (KS 18:12). A virtual reenactment of Myoch’ŏng’s recommendations to Injong thirty years earlier was consequently played out. Myoch’ŏng had exhorted Injong to build the Palace of Great Flowering in the Western Capital; Yun Wŏndo encouraged Ŭijong to built a palace in Paekchu. The Palace of Great Flowering was built in the Western Capital; the Palace of Renaissance (Chunghŭng-gwŏl) was constructed in Paekchu (KS 18:11b–12a; KS 58:9a–b). But after its construction had been finished (ahead of schedule, thanks to the unforgivingly harsh working mentality of one of its constructors), geomancers said amongst each other: “This place is what Tosŏn has called the force where the tiger of the north enters with his head raised and then disguises his coming. Now that a palace has been built here, I fear that a fatal catastrophe will occur.” The name of the palace is reminiscent of the name of the Chunghŭng-sa in the Western Capital, where a pagoda had burnt down after Myoch’ŏng had urged Injong to come to the Western Capital. When asked how such an inauspicious incident could have taken place, Myoch’ŏng explained that had it not been for him, much worse things would have happened (KS 127:28b). The Chunghŭng-sa was probably destroyed during the siege of the Western Capital (Kim Pushik employed troops in its vicinity, see KS 98:8b). It was rebuilt by Ŭijong in 1154 (KS 18:3b). It is plausible that these comments by geographers are a later interpolation, designed to draw a parallel between what happened to Injong and Ŭijong. Both rulers had listened to geomancers; Injong was consequently faced with the rebellion of Myoch’ŏng and Ŭijong’s reign was cut short by the military coup of 1170. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 249 political faction, without which there would never have been a nativist rebellion.48 The nativist reconstruction of identity revolved around the notion of Koryŏ. Myoch’ŏng’s prophesy that “36 states will come and pay tribute to Koryŏ if only the supreme capital is moved back to the Western Capital” is a reference to the time when the Koguryŏ state had its capital there and ruled Northeast Asia.49 It sought to relive the imagined glories of an ancient past. The elevation of the Koryŏ ruler to the position of the only Son of Heaven50 was both a reference to an imagined past and a desirable future. One bureaucrat expressed it as follows in a poem to the emperor at the occasion of a banquet in a palace built at the behest of Myoch’ŏng in the Western Capital: “An emperor rose in Chin [Korea] and ascended the throne…. At last, you have obtained the forces of the great flowering by relying on fortune-telling…. You will also have your capital in the middle of Heaven and Earth.”51 There are several noteworthy elements to be found in this poem by a pro-nativism bureaucrat. The poem starts with an allusion to the Hou Tangshu, in which it is said that “our state arose in the east (zhèn), from where we ascended the throne. We ascended the imperial throne and inaugurated the imperial lineage.” Although originally referring to China, here it is appropriated and taken to mean the Korean peninsula in the distant past (a popular interpretation on the peninsula).52 The ‘force of the great flowering’ is a term from Koryŏ geomancy, the state when propitious forces gather at a very auspicious place (kilchi), which is likened to a great blossoming of flowers.53 The poem, while using imperial terms for the ruler throughout, then ends with a rather literal re-imagining of Koryŏ as the centre of the world. Myoch’ŏng’s Koryŏ-centric worldview was further put in place by his insistence that the Manchurian Jin state should be conquered.54

48 This is also suggested by the situation of nativism after the rebellion. In the aftermath of the rebellion, things returned to how they had been before. 49 KSC 9:42a–b; KSC 10:2a–b; KS 127:27b. 50 In the Koryŏ worldview there were several Sons of Heaven at the same time, but in different states. All claimed to rule All-Under-Heaven. 51 TMS 104, Sŏgyŏng Taehwagung yŏn ch’iŏ. 52 See Yi Pyŏngdo 1934:167–74. 53 KS 16:1a. 54 KS 127:27b; KSC 9:42a–b; KSC 9:44b; KSC 9:56a–b; KSC 10:2a–b It seems

250 REMCO BREUKER

Although the sources remain silent, this may perhaps be seen as another deliberate reference to the magnificent past of Koguryŏ, the state that had ruled Manchuria.55 In the reconstruction of a nativist Koryŏ identity, the distant past played an important part. It hinged in fact on two different elements. The first element contained the traditional knowledge, techniques and rituals as well as the invented genealogy which legitimated the importance of ritual specialists like Myoch’ŏng: concretely, this consisted of their repertoire of rituals, the art of reading the landscape and other divinatory techniques. The other element explained why Koryŏ was so important: quite explicitly, Koryŏ was likened to the centre of the earth. Its Son of Heaven was the only legitimate Son of Heaven. Again, the identification of Koryŏ with Chin/Zhèn was a consequence of some very creative interpreting of ancient Chinese texts, but seen in its larger context, it was the result of the tradition of invention that had characterised Myoch’ŏng’s nativist movement from beginning to end. As such, there was no other choice than to vanquish the Jin, whose emperor made the same claims and had demanded Koryŏ submit to him. The creative use of the past in the reconstruction of nativist identities in Koryŏ merits some further scrutiny as it seems to have been a widespread practice. Although nativism before and after Myoch’ŏng was anything but organised, nativist ritual specialists could perceive of themselves as part of the same group by the way they traced their professional lineage and the transmission of their knowledge. It is frequently mentioned that ‘secret techniques’ were transmitted from Tosŏn to the present master.56 Secret techniques of course also imply a secret tradition, stretching back into the mists of time. Another way both the transmission of knowledge, the establishment of a legitimate lineage and the construction of a useful past were realised, was the use of secret books in which prophecies and techniques allegedly had been written down. Interestingly, all the that anti-Jin fervour sometimes got the better of Myoch’ŏng’s supporters. One of his military followers famously boasted that he would conquer the Jin if the court would only give him thousand soldiers. KSC 9:55b–56a. 55 Although not commonly regarded as such, Koguryŏ was a Manchurian rather than a proto-Korean state. 56 KS 127:27a; KS 127:30a–b. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 251 titles of these books we know (none of the original books is still extant) refer to Tosŏn as their author or claimed to transmit secrets learnt directly from him.57 The practice of consulting and referring to texts supposedly written by Tosŏn seems to have been widespread in Koryŏ. Other ways to reinforce legitimacy consisted of particular references to Buddhist and Daoist beliefs current on the peninsula. To put it differently, nativist ritual was reframed in Buddhist or Daoist terms, resulting in a mixing of nativist, Buddhist and Daoist elements. The rituals performed by Myoch’ŏng are a case in point,58 as is the naming of the eight protective spirits of Koryŏ. The names of these eight spirits were partly inspired by Buddhism, partly by Daoism and for another part referred to older, indigenous peninsular beliefs, such as the strong belief in the historical nature and protective nature of mountain spirits.59 Another trick played by Myoch’ŏng (and it is easily imagined that this would be on the standard repertoire of every able ritual specialist) involved invoking well-established indigenous beliefs with regard to dragons.60 Myoch’ŏng sunk a large rice cake filled with oil in the Taedong River which flows through P’yŏngyang, and had the rumour spread that a divine dragon swimming in the Taedong River was spitting out five-coloured oil.61 When the oil was slowly released from the rice cake at the bottom of the river, this was taken to be a very auspicious portent, until a sceptical diver retrieved the leaking rice cake. Yet another trick designed to play upon well-established religious sensibilities consisted of having music and voices appear to be coming from heaven while a banquet in the palace was held.62 The sceptical diver was clearly not present, because despite some scepticism from Myoch’ŏng’s detractors, no one figured out how he did it. A final example of how nativism consistently reframed well- established practices and beliefs so as to acquire persuasiveness and legitimacy is the way nativism embedded elements of ancient mythology in its ideas. Myoch’ŏng for instance referred to Mt.

57 See for example KS 122:1b. 58 Jorgensen (1998). 59 KS 127:29a. 60 See Buswell (1989). 61 KS 127:31a–b. 62 KS 127:28a. 252 REMCO BREUKER

Paektu and Mt. T’aebaek in the names of his eight protective spirits. These two mountains were the two most sacred mountains of Koryŏ, Mt. Paektu not only because it was the background for many myths and historic events, but also because the ancestor of the dynastic founder came from there and because Mt. Paektu was the origin of the geomantic backbone of the peninsula (with Mt. Chiri being its end).63 Myoch’ŏng took advantage of the legends and legitimacy associated with Mt. Paektu and Mt. T’aebaek, and named the first of his eight saints (p’alsŏng) who protected the peninsula “Country- Protecting T’aebaek Holy Hermit of Paektu” (Ho’guk Paektu-ak T’aebaek sŏnin).64 The “Country-Protecting T’aebaek Holy Hermit of Paektu” was, according to Myoch’ŏng, none other than Mañjuśrī himself, a bodhisattva often associated with Paektu-san.65 A tradition of invention is easily discovered in the few traces Koryŏ nativism has left behind. It appears that Koryŏ nativism did not get the chance to develop more sophisticated ways of looking at the world. Cornered by perceptions of the Manchurian threat across the northern frontier, internal political strife and encouraged by the political factions in favour of moving the capital to P’yŏngyang, the nascent movement of nativism was destroyed by its own ideology. Far away from the decision-making capital and not organised into bigger groups, its aggressive and warlike views had been harmless (and would again be in the future), but with the added political weight they almost diverted Koryŏ onto a disastrous course. Nativ- ism as an organised movement did not survive the political discord that had given birth to it. After the quelling of the rebellion, nativist ritual specialists, geomancers, prophesiers and the like once again fell back on a shared heritage propounded by individual devotees.

63 P’ahanjip 1:6f. 64 KS 127:29a. 65 The other seven “guardian angels” of Koryŏ also evoke strong associations with the landscape and the mountains of Koryŏ. All of them are identifications of Buddhas, bodhisattvas or devas with mountain gods. They are: Yongwi-ak yukt’ongjon, manifestation of Śākyamuni; Wŏlsŏng-ak ch’ŏnsŏn, a manifestation of Sarasvatī; Kuryŏ P’yŏngyang sŏnin, manifestation of the Yŏndŭng Buddha; Kuryŏ mongmyŏk sŏnin, a manifestation of Vipaśyin; Songak chinjusa, a manifestation of Vajrapāśa; Chŭngsŏng-ak shinin, a manifestation of Kŭnu chŏ’nwang and finally Tu-ak ch’ŏnnyŏ, a manifestation of Akopya upāsikā. Jorgensen 1998:222–55. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 253

SUMMARY

It is well-known what came out of the Koryŏ cauldron. It is the recipe and the ingredients that are largely unknown. What came out was a charismatic nativist leader with devoted followers who apparently sincerely believed in his own mission and did not (want to?) realise that he and his movement were being used by some of the powers that be: those aristocrats and high-ranking bureaucrats who resisted the intensive nationwide centralisation and rationalisa- tion of the government Kim Pushik energetically advocated, because this process threatened their privileges, prerogatives and influence. Myoch’ŏng’s nativist movement enjoyed its 15 minutes of f(r)ame before being wiped out in the civil war that followed the intensifica- tion of domestic tensions in 1135. The conflation of Myoch’ŏng’s nativism and the rebellion of the Western Capital (to the extent that this rebellion is commonly referred to as Myoch’ŏng’s rebellion) has made it impossible to study his ideology on its own terms. The dearth of source materials is also a restricting factor in trying to figure out what factors were at work in the emergence and collapse of organised Koryŏ nativism. Nonetheless, by using circumstantial evidence, a provisional image of nativism may come to the fore. It is beyond doubt that nativism’s biggest competitor was Bud- dhism, both on account of the similar role nativist ritual specialists fulfilled when compared to some monks, and on account of Bud- dhism’s strong ties with the state. In this sense, it is hardly a surprise that nativist practitioners were deeply influenced by Buddhism, taking from its teachings, lore, ritual and appearance whatever they could use. This is probably the reason why Myoch’ŏng was described as a monk and why the rituals he performed and the names he gave to his eight protective spirits were so much influenced by Buddhist concepts. In other cases as well, nativist ritual specialists seem to have competed with Buddhist and Daoist ritual masters, while freely borrowing those elements they found useful. To a certain extent, the prominent role Tosŏn played in the genealogies of all known nativist ritual specialists is probably an instance of borrowing Buddhist prestige. Tosŏn was after all a respected Sŏn master, and his fame as a geomancer only reached its peak in the 11th 254 REMCO BREUKER century, long after his death. Although Myoch’ŏng’s nativist movement clearly sought confrontation with state-sponsored Buddhism66 it simultaneously had no other strategic choice than to imitate its more powerful competitor. The most salient characteristic of Koryŏ nativism, and the reason it was in the end rejected by an absolute majority of Koryŏ bureaucrats and statesmen, was the absolute primacy it awarded to Koryŏ as its ultimate value. Positively, this meant the elevation of the Koryŏ ruler to the status of Son of Heaven and the perception of Koryŏ as the centre of the world. The negative effects, however, included the refusal of Sinitic and Manchurian influences in Koryŏ, at least openly, and as a political extension of this position, the point of view that the Manchurian Jin dynasty should be conquered. Whether elements of xenophobia can be traced in this attitude is debatable; it is more likely to have been a strategic choice, but, undeniably, the nativist movement made a clear choice here against the pluralism that characterised Koryŏ society and its international policies. Per- haps the most important ingredient in the Koryŏ cauldron was Koryŏ pluralism, which made it strategically necessary for the nativist movement to position itself as pluralism’s antithesis, monism. Myoch’ŏng’s quest for the ‘impossible good’, a way of living for Koryŏ that was free of contradiction, ambiguity and compromise, was doomed from the start in a society that was geared towards contradiction, ambiguity and compromise: pluralism in other words. It is doubtful whether pluralism as such can be seen as a universalist discourse; it is too historical, and hence too particular, to be truly universalist in a way Confucianism or Buddhism can be imagined to be. On the other hand, it is hard to deny that Myoch’ŏng’s brand of nativism was fundamentally localist: it focused on the local and elevated that to the highest imaginable standard. Koryŏ nativism can be characterised as an instance of anti-syncretism; it refused compromise. Koryŏ pluralism on the other hand was, as I stated before, quite different from syncretism. Koryŏ nativism’s abhorrence of ‘impurity’, however, seems to suggest that it shares this trait with nativism elsewhere.

66 When the rebellion broke out in the Western Capital, Myoch’ŏng put all monks from the capital behind bars, signalling his war with the Buddhism of the state and the capital for both political and ideological reasons. O FLEETING JOYES OF PARADISE 255

Another trait shared by other instances of nativism is the considerable time difference between the narrated origins and the origins of the narratives: the invented genealogies, the invocation of the early history of the peninsula by incorporating Mt. Paektu and Mt. T’aebaek in nativist narratives and the transmission of secret records all use the distant past to legitimate the present. The fact that there are no extant writings of Koryŏ nativists, with the exception of a number of memorials, severely hampers our understanding. It is as such not possible to comment upon nativism’s historiographical strategies or upon the dialogic and polemical character of its religious historical writing. Judging from the aggressive way nativist leaders acted at court, the polemic tone adopted in their memorials to the throne and the brazen tactics they employed to gather more support, it is a safe guess that nativism’s historiographical writings would probably have been revisionist, aggressive and most certainly polemic. The political, social and international circumstances of Koryŏ in the 12th century were such that some segments of society perceived themselves as standing at the helm of a “social movement that proclaims the return to power of the natives of a colonised area and the resurgence of native culture, along with the decline of the colonisers.” The steady influx of Sinitic and Manchurian influences over the centuries, in particular pertaining to religious matters, combined with the military threat of the Jin and the ongoing collapse of the Song to shake the Koryŏ worldview. Framed in familiar narratives of landscape and Buddhism, nativism offered a possible solution by making Koryŏ the ultimate value of its ideology and actions. When encouraged by political factions in the capital, the nativist leader Myoch’ŏng seized the chance he was given and the nativist movement gained momentum. Its momentum coincided with the rebellion in the Western Capital, and it was swept up in the civil war that followed. Lacking a grass roots organisation, the nativist movement collapsed under its own weight, returning its practitioners and adherents to the situation before the rebellion, in which nativist ritual specialists occupied a rather marginal niche in the Koryŏ ideological landscape. 256 REMCO BREUKER

ABBREVIATIONS

KS Koryŏsa KSC Koryŏsa chŏr’yo TMS Tong munsŏn

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Jean-Luc Achard is researcher at the Centre National de la Recher- che Scientifique (CNRS, National Center for Scientific Research) in Paris and member of the Centre de Recherches sur les Civilisations de l’Asie Orientale (CRCAO). He is also the creator and editor of the Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines (RET), a free online magazine on Tibetan Studies, available on the site of the Digital Himalaya website hosted by the Cambridge University. His main fields of research are the studies of the Bon po and Nying ma pa traditions in general, and their specific rDzogs chen lineages and teachings in particular. Henk Blezer has been involved in academic research and publication on Indian and Tibetan Buddhism and on Bön since the early nineties. He organised the Ninth Seminar of the International Associ- ation for Tibetan Studies at the IIAS, Leiden University (2000), and published the proceedings (Brill 2002, in ten volumes). He has worked on Bön traditions for about twenty years and was Principal Investigator in the The Three Pillars of Bön research program (NWO Vidi, Leiden University, 2005–2010), on the formation of Bön identity in Tibet, at around the turn of the first millennium AD. He presently teaches Buddhist Studies at Leiden University. Remco Breuker is Professor of Korean Studies at Leiden Universi- ty. He read Japanese Studies and Korean Studies at Leiden Universi- ty. He then studied Korean history at the Graduate School of the Department of Korean History at Seoul National University. He held postdoctoral positions at the Australian National University and at Leiden University (NWO Veni). His Ph.D. was on the formation of plural identities in medieval Korea, while his present research seeks to reconceptualize medieval Northeast Asian history. Although a premodern historian by training, his interests also include (contemporary) historiography, representations of identity, the question of modernity in premodern periods, landscape and history, cultures of forgery, contemporary Korean cinema and the role of the Vietnam War in the shaping of postwar East Asia. He is co-editor of East Asian History (www.eastasianhistory.org) and Korean Histories (www.koreanhistories.org) and translates modern Korean novels into Dutch. 260 CONTRIBUTORS

Johannes Bronkhorst did his Indological studies in India, where he obtained his first doctorate (Pune 1979). He did a second doctorate in Leiden (1980), and was appointed Professor of Sanskrit and Indian studies at the University of Lausanne in 1987, where he taught until 2011. He has been editor of Brill’s Indological Library and Brill’s Handbook of Oriental Studies since 1991. Some of his recent books are Greater Magadha: Studies in the Culture of Early India (Brill 2007), Buddhism in the Shadow of Brahmanism (Brill 2011) and Language and Reality: On an Episode in Indian Thought (Brill 2011). Bronkhorst has been concentrating so far on the history of Indian thought in the broadest sense, but has in recent years been trying to get a clearer picture of the circumstances in which these forms of thought could develop. Satō Hiroo is a professor of the Graduate School of Arts and Letters at Tohoku University. His academic field is the history of Japanese thought. He is the author of, amongst others, Shisha no Yukue (The Destination of the Dead, Iwata Syoin, 2008), Shinkoku Nippon (Japan, the Land of the Gods, Chikuma Shobo). Annette Hornbacher is a full Professor at the Institut für Ethnolo- gie, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg, since 2010. She received her doctoral degree in Tübingen, on the poetic critique of enlightenment in philosophy, and her habilitation in Cultural Anthropology at the University of München. She has taught in München, Göttingen, Tübingen and Heidelberg. She has conducted extensive fieldwork in Indonesia and particularly in Bali where she worked between 1998 and 2002 in a VW-funded research project on ritual dance drama as a representation form of kinaesthetic knowledge. Presently she is leader of a subproject on Adat or Agama? Persistence and Revitali- zation of Local Religious Traditions in Indonesia, within a BMBF research project on Dynamiken von Religion in Südostasien. Beyond that she is co-leader of a French-German research project: Local Tra- ditions and World Religions: The Appropriation of ‘Religion’ in Southeast Asia and Beyond and leader of Heilige und Sakrale Schrift in Bali, which is part of an interdisciplinary research area Material Text Cultures at the university of Heidelberg. The focus of her present research is on the transformation and revitalisation of local ritual practices in Bali, transnational religious movements, the reinvention of Hinduism in Bali, and recently: competing ontologies and multiple ecologies in transcultural perspective. CONTRIBUTORS 261

Dan Martin is a teacher, researcher and translator engaged with literary, cultural and historical issues associated with Tibet, Tibetan Buddhism and Bon. He is currently working as a literary translator for the Tibetan Classics series. Mark Teeuwen is Professor in Japanese Studies at the University of Oslo. His main work addresses the conceptualisation of Shinto and its impact on shrines and kami cults in different periods of Japanese history. Among his publications are A New History of Shinto (2010, co-authored with John Breen), The Culture of Secrecy in Japanese Religion (2006, co-edited with Bernhard Scheid), and Buddhas and Kami in Japan: Honji Suijaku as a Combinatory Paradigm (2003, co-edited with Fabio Rambelli).

GLOSSARY

Abhidharma: Sanskrit term for ‘scholastic’ classification and system- atisation of Buddhist doctrine abhi eka (Sanskrit), Japanese kanjō: initiation ritual, conferring on the initiand either a new status or the rightful possession of new knowledge Acalanātha (Sanskrit), Japanese Fudō Myōō: “the King who does not move”, a tantric deity with a wrathful appearance, one of the “spell kings” (Sanskrit vidyārāja, Japanese myōō) who represent the violent aspect of the World Buddha Mahā- vairocana, and employ forceful means for the higher goal of spreading enlightenment adat terblakangan: Bahasa term used for backward custom adat: Bahasa term used for customs in Indonesia adik: Bahasa for a younger brother agama: Bahasa term used for officially recognised religion in Indonesia ajawera: Bahasa for formulaic phrases ajeg Bali: Bahasa for upright Bali aliran kepercayaan: Bahasa term for belief system Amaterasu: Japanese name for the Sun Deity and Imperial Ancestor, enshrined in Ise amerta: Bahasa for immortality Amida: Japanese phonetic rendering, derived from the Chinese Amituo (Fo), corresponding to the Sanskrit names Amitābha and Amitāyus, the Buddha who dwells in the Pure Land to the west of our own Sahā World; Amida has vowed that those who establish a karmic link with him will be reborn in this paradise and attain enlightenment there ardhanari: Bahasa for male and female bar chad: Tibetan for impediments, obstacles belum beragama: Bahasa term for people who do ‘not yet’ have a religion bhinekka tunggaal ika: Bahasa for unity in diversity bKa' 'gyur: Tibetan term for part of the Tibetan Buddhist or Bön canon, ideal-typically translations of the word of the Buddha or of Lord Shenrab. 264 GLOSSARY bodhicitta: Sanskrit for heart of enlightenment, the resolve to strive for the liberation of all sentient beings bon chos dbyer med: Tibetan for the sameness of Bön and Buddhism bon gsar or gsar bon: Tibetan for New Bön, eclectic Bön traditions that combine teachings from Buddhism and Bön bon rnying: Tibetan for Old Bön, used for g-yung drung bon but also for various non-Buddhist tradition before that phase bon sku: Tibetan for the ‘truth body’ or ultimate reality brang 'gro: Tibetan for snake, chest goer brda yig: Tibetan for symbolic script brTen 'gyur: Tibetan term for part of the Tibetan Bön canon, ideal- typically the translated commentaries and works depending (brten pa) on Lord Shenrab’s word. bsGrags pa bon lugs: Tibetan for the Manner of ‘bsGrags pa Bon’ bshos [bu]: Tibetan for quadrangular offering cakes bsTan 'gyur: Tibetan term for part of the Tibetan Buddhist canon, ideal-typically translations of commentaries on the Buddha word. bsTan rtsis: Tibetan for the genre Chronology of the Teachings Bya ru can (Kings), supposedly a Zhang zhung dynasty of Kings, wearing crowns adorned with bird horns bya ru: Tibetan for bird horn cakravartin, Sanskrit for a universal monarch or world ruler caru: Sanskrit term for a type of prasāda (a propitiatory offering or gift of food) cham, phon. (Wylie: 'cham): Tibetan term for religious, ceremonial, masked dances Chin: ancient name referring to the Korean peninsula cho ga: Tibetan term for ritual chos dbyings: Tibetan translation of the Sanskrit term dharmadhātu, ultimate sphere or totality of being chos sku: Tibetan translation of the Sanskrit term dharmakāya, the ‘truth body’ or ultimate reality (emptiness) dag snang: Tibetan for pure vision Daijōsai: Japanese name for a non-Buddhist ritual of offering first fruits, performed by a new emperor at the beginning of his reign deva, Sanskrit for a deity or god dge bshes (dge ba'i bshes gnyen): Tibetan for a friend in virtue, here used for a Tibetan religious degree, comparable to Doctor in Theology or Philosophy GLOSSARY 265 dgongs gter: Tibetan for Contemplation Treasure dgra lha: Tibetan for enemy gods Dharma, dharma: Sanskrit term, used for the Buddha’s teaching; the basic elements of perceived reality; virtue; or Universal Law dhāra!ī: Sanskrit term for spell, formula for incantation, a longish mantra that can activate the power of the Dharma and produce miraculous results Diamond (Mandala): Sanskrit vajradhātu, Japanese Kongō(kai); also translated Vajra Mandala or Diamond Realm Mandala. One of two (Shingon) or three (Tendai) mandalas that depict and embody different aspects of the World Buddha Mahāvairoc- ana in Japanese esoteric schools. This mandala represents the realm of indestructible “wisdom” and its active application; its companion, the Womb Mandala the realm of the fundamental “principle” (quiescent enlightenment) that forms the store or “womb” from which this active wisdom emerges. In Tendai, a third mandala (the susiddhi, or, more often, mandalised versions of the Lotus Sutra) represent the ultimate unity of these two realms in Mahāvairocana dkar khrid: Tibetan for white guidance dmar chog: Tibetan for red rituals dranggyé, phon. (Wylie: 'brang rgyas): Tibetan for expanded chest 'dul ba: Tibetan, see Sanskrit vinaya dzo, phon. (Wylie: mdzo): Tibetan for cross between yak and cow gahapati: Pali for householder geomancy: the art of reading the landscape in Koryŏ, a mishmash of various elements from classic Chinese culture, indigenous rituals and cults connected to the landscape and various divinatory practices, geomancy was closely associated with the fate and destiny of the state and the people and as such possessed an ultimate logic that was neither completely statist, nor completely popular, or completely mystical glud: Tibetan for ritual ransom offering goms: Tibetan for familiarisation gSang ba chos lugs: Tibetan for the Secret Manner of the Dharma or Buddhism gsar dar: Tibetan for New Diffusion, see also snga dar gtan la phab pa: Tibetan for to codify gter gsar: Tibetan for New Treasure, used for rNying ma pa-style revelations; the term is attested since at least the 14th c. AD 266 GLOSSARY gter ma: Tibetan for revealed treasure, supposedly hidden texts and objects, to be discovered later gter srung: Tibetan term for Protector of the Treasure gter ston: Tibetan term for a Treasure Revealer, someone who brings to light supposedly hidden texts and objects gter yig: Tibetan for Treasure Scripts g-yab dar: Tibetan term for the cloth attached to phur pa or other ritual objects g-yung drung bon: Tibetan for Eternal Bön, used for most of the Bön traditions that arose after the 10th and 11th c. AD hermitage: solitary dwelling-place for a hermit; in Koryŏ, this was often someone with strong Daoist and geomantic tendencies, even if a hermit would usually call himself (and be seen as) Buddhist Hiei, Mount: mountain on the north-eastern flank of the capital Kyōto, accommodates both the headquarters of Tendai Buddhism (Enryakuji) and the Hie shrines, which formed part of the Tendai complex until modern times Hirata Atsutane (1776–1843 AD): a major figure in the development of kokugaku homa: Sanskrit for an oblation into the fire, burnt offering honji suijaku: Japanese for “essence and trace”, a Japanese theory that defines divine figures, sites and objects in our world as manifestations of a higher essence in the form of a buddha Hou Tangshu: Chinese dynastic history better known as the Xin Tangshu or New History of the Tang, finished in 1060 AD by Ouyang Xiu and Song Qi Indra (Sanskrit), Japanese Taishaku: Lord of the Sahā World, often in conjunction with Brahmā Ise shrines: a large complex of shrines in Ise province, worshipped by the imperial court as the ancestral fane of their lineage Jambudvīpa: Sanskrit for the continent south of Mt. Sumeru, where the world we inhabit is located japa: Sanskrit for Vedic murmurings jātakarman: Sanskrit for birth ceremony jinsek, phon. (Wylie: sbyin bsregs): Tibetan for fire ritual, Sanskrit homa, or in Japan, goma Jurchen: Korean name for a federation of semi-nomadic peoples living in the northeast of the Korean peninsula and the southern parts of Manchuria from the 10th c. AD onwards; the Jurchen founded the Jin state in the first half of the 12th c. AD GLOSSARY 267 kakak: Bahasa for an older brother kami: Japanese term for Japanese gods, including nameless mountain and river deities, personified gods enshrined in sanctuaries similar to human dwellings, snake-like demons, deified human heroes, etc kangaku: Japanese term for Chinese studies; a branch of learning that gained popularity among the literate classes in the Edo period (1600–1868 AD) Kanjur: Tibetan term for part of the Tibetan Buddhist and Bön canon, ideal-typically translations of the Buddha’s or Lord Shenrab’s word. kanjō: see abhi eka kāvya: Sanskrit term for poetry khra khrid: Tibetan for Variegated Guide or Guidance khregs chod: Tibetan for Cutting the Rigid or Hard, and advanced type of practice in the great perfection (rdzogs chen), usually paired with thod rgal Kim Pushik (1075–1151 AD): Koryŏ’s most famous scholar, statesman and historian, the epitome of Koryŏ ideological pluralism and author of the Samguk sagi (Histories of the Three Kingdoms); he has an undeserved reputation as Confucian reactionary; he was Myoch’ŏng’s greatest adversary kishōmon: Japanese for a type of oath, in which the oath-maker calls down upon himself the punishment of the divine world Koguryŏ: Korean name for a Manchurian state (traditional dates 37 BC – 668 AD) that is traditionally seen as one of the three states that together would become Koryŏ (and thus Korea). Often seen as an expansionist state and an equal of contemporary Chinese states kokugaku (wagaku): Japanese term for Japanese studies; a branch of learning that gained popularity among the literate classes in the eighteenth century AD Kokutai no hongi: The Fundamentals of Our National Polity, a Japanese work of nationalist theory and wartime propaganda published by the Ministry of Education in 1937 AD Koryŏ: Korean name for the state on the Korean peninsula that unified the peninsula for the first time in 935 AD and as such is seen as the first truly Korean state. Koryŏ was characterised by its unusual longevity (nearly five centuries) and the equally unusual ideological pluralism that pervaded its society 268 GLOSSARY

Kūkai (774–835 AD): also known as Kōbō Daishi, widely revered as the founder of the Shingon school, as well as a range of other cultural hallmarks of Japanese culture kulha, phon. (Wylie: sku lha): Tibetan for the deity that protects the body kushen, phon. (Wylie: sku gshen): Tibetan for ritual specialist that serves and protects the king Liao: Manchurian state founded by the Khitan in 907 AD in North Eastern China or Manchuria, a long-time neighbour, ally and competitor of the Koryŏ state; Liao was destroyed by Jin in 1125 AD ma-gala: Sanskrit for auspicious rites, auspiciousness Mahābhārata: grand Indian Sanskrit epic on the dynastic struggle and the great civil war in the ancient kingdom of Kurukṣetra Mahābrahmā (Sanskrit), Japanese Bonten: Great Brahma, the deva king who rules over the Sahā World from his abode on the top of Mt. Sumeru Mahāvairocana: Sanskrit name for the “Great Sun” Buddha or World Buddha, the central teacher and object of veneration of the esoteric schools, a personification of the cosmos as an enlightened realm Mandala of Wondrous Accomplishment (Sanskrit susiddhi): In Ten- dai, the third of a trinity of mandalas that together represent Mahāvairocana, or the cosmos as an enlightened realm; see Diamond Mandala Mañjuśrī: Bodhisattva who played an important role in Buddhism on the Korean peninsula, also in the Esoteric Buddhism that inspired Myoch’ŏng; known in Korean as Munsu posal mantra: Sanskrit for syllable for incantation mappō: Japanese term for “the final Dharma”, the last of three stages in the development of the Buddha’s teaching: the “correct Dharma”, when both teaching and practice were correctly passed on; the “semblance Dharma”, when the teaching is preserved but practice will no longer lead to full enlightenment; and the “final Dharma”, when both teaching and practice have deteriorated beyond repair mda' dar: Tibetan for a ceremonial arrow decorated with cloth Meiji Restoration (1868): the coup that abolished the shogunate and ‘restored’ rule to the emperor, starting the process that led to the creation of the modern Japanese nation-state GLOSSARY 269 mikkyō: Japanese for secret teachings, a term introduced as a category of scripture by Kūkai, in contradistinction to kengyō, “revealed teachings”; both concepts changed meaning over time, but in general, the first stressed esoteric access to the Dharma through mandalas, mudras and mantras, while the latter was associated with the exegesis of sutras and their use for the ritual accumulation and transfer of karma; mikkyō draws heavily on tantra and is sometimes translated as tantrism mkha' 'gro ma: Tibetan name for a class of female deities called Sky Dancers mngal skyes: Tibetan for birth from a womb mo: Tibetan term for divination Motoori Norinaga (1730–1801 AD): a defining figure in the development of kokugaku mudrā: Sanskrit term for a ritualised gesture in meditation and ritual performance mun mtshams: Tibetan term for the practice of dark retreat Myoch’ŏng (?–1135 AD): a geomancer whose nativist ideas became so influential that his movement threatened the state; he was beheaded by his fellow rebels in P’yŏngyang during the early stages of the rebellion that bears his name nag khrid: Tibetan for Black Guidance nāgas: Sanskrit name for Snake Deities Nā/yaśāstra: Indian Sanskrit texts on dance and drama Nichiren (1222–82 AD): a monk of Tendai training, who later came to be revered as the founder of the so-called Hokke (Lotus) or Nichiren sect nidhi: Sanskrit for treasure, see gter ma Nihon shoki (720 AD): Chronicles of Japan, a dynastic history of the Japanese imperial lineage, starting with the creation of heaven and earth nyams myong: Tibetan for meditative experience nyekah: Bahasa for a purification ritual Ōmine: Japanese name for a mountain area, stretching from Yoshino to Kumano, that has been much used for mountain retreats and ascetic exercises since the 9th c. AD panca sraddha: Bahasa for the five articles of Hindu belief pancamahabhuta: Bahasa for the five great elements Pedanda Boda: Bahasa for a Buddhist priest Pedanda Siwa: Bahasa for a Brahmin priest 270 GLOSSARY phrin las bzhi: Tibetan for the four activities: pacifying, increasing, overpowering, and destroying (zhi rgyas dbang drag) phyi dar, the Later Diffusion of Buddhism in Tibet, starting in the 10 and 11th c. AD po ti: Tibetan for book or volume puja: Bahasa for Balinese ritual Pure Land: The Buddha-land of Amida purohita: Sanskrit for one placed in front or foremost: a domestic or royal ritual specialist puspa (linga): Bahasa for a ritual effigy for the soul of a deceased (literally: flower) qi: Chinese term for the breath or life force that constitutes the physical cosmos, and that gives rise to all forms by alter- nating between Yin and Yang and passing through the five phases of tree, fire, earth, metal, water Rāgarāja (Sanskrit), Japanese Aizen Myōō: “the King of Desire”, a tantric deity with a wrathful appearance. One of the “spell kings” (Sanskrit vidyārāja, Japanese myōō) who represent the violent aspect of the World Buddha Mahāvairocana, and employ forceful means for the higher goal of spreading enlightenment rajadewa: Bahasa for divinity Rāmāya!a: Grand Indian epic in Sanskrit, relating the story King Rāma, who loses his rightful throne and struggles to regain it in battle, eventually rang grol: Tibetan for self-liberated rdo rje: Tibetan for Sanskrit vajra, see vajra rdzus skyes: Tibetan for miraculous birth rgyal po: Tibetan for king rig (rigs): Tibetan for Sanskrit gotra rig 'dzin: Tibetan for Knowledge Holders rig pa: Tibetan for (non-dual) awareness rtogs pa: Tibetan term for realisation rtsa rlung: Tibetan for channels and winds, part of tantric visualisations of a subtle body sa gter: Tibetan for earth treasures sādhana: Sanskrit term for a practice manual for visualising a deity Sahā World or Sahāloka: Sanskrit name for a sphere of existence that is synonymous with the (usually six) realms of saṃsāra, the world of transmigration and delusion. sakti: Bahasa for spiritual power GLOSSARY 271

Śākyamuni: Sanskrit rendering of the name of the historical Buddha: the holy man of the Śākya clan sba (or sba shing): Tibetan for Sanskrit vetra, often understood to be the Calamus rotang sems bskyed: Tibetan term for generating the mind of enlightenment, the resolve to strive for the liberation of all sentient beings sems kyi ngo sprod: Tibetan term for introduction to the nature of mind shari’a: Islamic code of law, based on the Koran shed: Tibetan for parasitic spirits in the sense that they feed off the energy of the bla or vital soul, making it weak, which they are able to do especially after death Shingon: a Japanese school of Buddhism, established in the early 9th c. AD that reveres Kūkai as its founder shinkoku: Japanese for Divine Land or Land of the Gods, an epithet of Japan Shinto: Japanese for Way of the Gods, often defined, also emically, as Japan’s indigenous religion, but this book argues that the notion of Shinto as an autonomous “Japanese Way” first emerged in medieval times (13th–14th centuries), and that it owed much to Buddhist forms of nativism shog ser: Tibetan for the so-called yellow scroll, a term indicating the mother copy of a material textual treasure (see gter ma) siddha7: Sanskrit name for a North Indian script that was retained in Chinese translations of Buddhist scriptures for the writing of mantras, seed syllables and other words that had a special ontological status as repositories of the Dharma and that could not be translated skyabs 'gro: Tibetan for taking refuge in the Buddha, his teaching (Dharma) and the community (Sangha) skyems: Tibetan term for drink offerings sman: Tibetan term for medicine smon lam: Tibetan for aspiration prayer snga dar: Tibetan term for the Early Diffusion, roughly from the 7th until 9th c. AD snyan brgyud: Tibetan for Oral Transmission (lit. Aural) Sŏn: Korean name for the Meditation School, one of the two major schools into which Koryŏ Buddhism was divided; the other school was the Kyo or Doctrinal School sprul sku gtso bo bzhi: Tibetan for the Four Main Emanation Bodies sprul sku: Tibetan for emanation body 272 GLOSSARY srid pa'i lha: Tibetan for the Gods of Existence Suika Shinto: a school of Shinto founded by the Neo-Confucian scholar and teacher Yamazaki Ansai (1618–82 AD), which flourished throughout the 18th c. AD Sumeru: the name of the mythic mountain that forms the centre of the Sahā World svadharma: Sanskrit term for one’s own Dharma Taizan Fukun: Japanese reading of Taishan Fujun, Lord of the sacred Mount Taishan in Shandong province; this deity entered Japan in Buddhist garb, as the chief minister of the Lord of the Dead, King Yama Tan’gun: Korean name for the mythical progenitor of the people on the Korean peninsula who descended from Heaven in 2333 BC; although now universally recognized as such, there are no sources mentioning Tan’gun before the 13th c. AD tantra: Sanskrit term, here used for esoteric forms of Buddhism tathāgata: Sanskrit epithet for a buddha, “thus come or gone one” tattwas: Bahasa for philosophical texts of Balinese Hinduism Tendai: a Japanese school of Buddhism, derived from Ch. Tiantai and established in the early 9th c. AD Tenjur (bsTan 'gyur (Buddhism) or brTen 'gyur (Bön)): Tibetan term for a part of the Tibetan Buddhist or Bön canon, typically translations of the commentaries and works that depend on (brten pa) the Buddha’s or Lord Shenrab’s word. Tennō: Japanese for Heavenly Sovereign; a Daoist term that was adopted as the title of the Japanese ‘Emperors’ in the late 7th c. AD thod rgal: Tibetan for leaping beyond the crest, and advanced type of practice in the great perfection (rdzogs chen), usually paired with khregs chod Tōdaiji: Japan’s largest temple, built in the capital Nara by Emperor Shōmu in 728 AD as the ordination platform for all monks and the central hub of a network of more than sixty sets of provincial temples Torma, phon. (Wylie: gtor ma): Tibetan term for ritual offering cake trichiliocosm: a Buddha World, consisting of 1,000 x 1,000 x 1,000 (“thrice thousand”) ‘small’ worlds like our own Sahā World trivarga: Sanskrit term for the triad virtue (dharma), wealth (artha), and desire (kāma) tuturs: Bahasa for esoteric Hindu-Buddhist texts GLOSSARY 273

Upavedas: Sanskrit for a class of writings subordinate or appended to the four Vedas upāya: Sanskrit for the method aspect of Buddhist teaching uraga: Sanskrit for snake vajra: Sanskrit for thunderbolt or diamond club; a ritual implement, ultimately derived from the sceptre of Indra, that features prominently in Tantric rituals, texts and mandalas var!a: Sanskrit term usually translated as caste, a system of social classes, distinguishing between Brahmins (ritual specialists or priestly class), Kṣatriyas (warrior or ruling class), Vaiśyas (agricultural and merchant class) and Śūdras (servants) vinaya: Sanskrit term for the monastic code of discipline waka: Japanese term for a classical Japanese verse form, consisting of five lines of 5, 7, 5, 7 and 7 syllables wakō dōjin: Japanese for “[a Buddha] hides his luminance and mingles with the dust [of the Sahā World]”, a phrase from Laozi, adopted by Chinese authors to describe the manifestation of buddhas and bodhisattvas in various guises in our Sahā World; a stock phrase in discourses of honji suijaku Wayang style: showing the figures no longer in a full plastic representation of the human body but as if they were flat leather puppets of the Indonesian shadow play and thus seen in profile Womb (Mandala): Sanskrit garbhadhātu, Japanese Taizō(kai); also translated Matrix Mandala or Womb Realm Mandala. One of two (Shingon) or three (Tendai) mandalas that depict and embody different aspects of the World Buddha Mahāvairoc- ana in Japanese esoteric schools; see the Diamond Mandala Yama: Sanskrit name for the King of the Dead, mythically the first man to die Yanagita Kunio (1875–1962 AD): the founder of Japanese folklore studies and the creator of a new, partly kokugaku-derived vision on the essential characteristics of Japanese tradition Yang gsang mu stegs lugs: Tibetan for the Ultra Secret Manner of Tīrthika-s or ‘Heretics’ yantra: Sanskrit for an amulet or mystical diagram Yogācāra: Sanskrit term meaning the practice of yoga, best known for its development of ‘idealistic’ trends in Buddhist thought zhal bsro: Tibetan for consecration zhi khro: Tibetan for Peaceful and Wrathful Deities

MAPS

ASIA OVERVIEW 276 MAPS

KOREA AND JAPAN MAPS 277

TIBET (AND SURROUNDING COUNTRIES) 278 MAPS

INDIA MAPS 279

BALI, INDONESIA

INDEX

bDe chen gling pa, 84, 91, 102, 116, 117 A bDe chen zhing gi smon gyi don gsal A dkar dgongs 'dus, 80, 110 bar byed pa'i 'grel pa, 93, 94, 121 A dkar zhi gcod, 95 bDe chen zhing smon, 94 A khrid, 92 bDud 'dul gling pa, 89 A mdo, 77 bDud 'dul g-Yung drung grags pa, 90 'A zha Blo gros rgyal mtshan, 134 Bhagavadgita, 229 Abhidharma, 138, 159, 168, 194, 269 bhinekka tunggaal ika, 218, 269 abhieka, 67, 269, 273 Bi tho dgon pa, 86 Abhisamayālakāra, 166 Bihar, 172 Abrahamic, 152 bKa' brgyud pa, 77 Acalanātha, 64 bKa' 'gyur, 103, 269 adat, 226, 227, 228, 230, 231, 269 bKa' thang sde lnga, 133 agama, 225, 227, 228, 230, 231, 269 bKra shis phyug mo'i ri, 95 agrahāras, 200 bla brang, 79, 166 ajawera, 220, 269 Black Guidance, 97, 275 Ājīvikism, 200 Blo gros rgyal mtshan, 134 Alexander of Macedonia, 205 Blo ldan gsung 'bum, 85 Amaterasu, 33, 40, 46, 49, 58, 61, Blo ldan gyi sgrub phug, 86 64, 65, 67, 69, 70, 269 Blo ldan snying po, 84, 99, 107 Amida, 35, 36, 93, 114, 269, 276 bodhicitta, 100, 270 Amitāyus, 35, 36, 93, 114, 269, 276 Bompo, 181 Amitābha, 35, 36, 93, 114, 269, 276 Bön, v, 1–7, 11, 15, 20, 77–85, 87– animist, 228, 229 103, 105, 106, 108, 111–117, anti-syncretism, 8, 11, 12, 14, 21, 46, 125–155, 163, 164, 168, 170, 155, 260 174, 181, 184, 189, 195, 206, anusaraa, 166 207, 265, 269, 270, 272, 273, 278 ardhanari, 269 Bon chos dar nub gyi lo rgyus grags Arthaśāstra, 200, 201 pa rin chen gling grags, 136 Āryaśūra, 207 bon chos dbyer med, 79, 81, 270 Aśoka, 202, 204 Bon chos dbyer med dgongs gcig, Assalāyana Sutta, 205 101, 103 astrology, 200, 201, 254 bon gsar (ma)/gsar(ma) bon, v, 20, astronomy, 201 21, 77–84, 87–92, 94–103, 105, Atiśa, 170, 172, 174, 175, 188, 191, 108, 111, 112, 125, 129, 130, 270 193 Bon gyi brten 'gyur, 79–81, 85, 87, awareness, 8, 48, 96, 192, 209, 276 88, 91, 95, 106–116, 118, 119, 120, 122, 123 Bon gyi brten 'gyur chen mo, 79, 80, B 85, 87, 88, 91, 95, 106–116, 118– 120, 122, 123 bar chad, 176, 269 Bön Mountain, 181 282 INDEX

Bon phyi nang gsang gsum gyi Bum steng dgon pa, 86 dbang gi brgyud rim, 102, 121 bya ru, 174, 270 Bon ri, 181 Bya ru can kings, 174 bon rnying, 100, 149, 151, 270 Bya ze rdzong, 86 bon sku, 78, 87, 110, 111, 114, 270 Byams ma snying thig, 96 Bon zhig g-Yung drung gling pa, 83, Byang chub rdo rje Sangs rgyas 102, 119 gling pa, 88, 117 Bönpo, 79, 80, 82, 103, 128, 130, Bye brag dngos med, 93 131, 134, 138, 141, 146, 150, 'Byung khungs kyi mdo, 152 153, 170, 174, 188 Bönpo Monastic Centre, 174 Bonten, 33, 34, 36, 41, 274 C Borobudur, 215 cakravartin, 53, 270 Brahmanism, 22, 199, 200, 201, 203, Cāṇakya, 201 204, 206, 207, 266 Calamus rotang, 177, 277 Brahmin, 203, 213, 219, 220, 221, caru, 172, 270 222, 276 Ch’oe Yuch’ŏng, 246 brang 'gro, 167, 270 'cham, 185, 270 Brang 'gro, 167 'Chi med byang chub gling, 79 'brang rgyas, 21, 161, 162, 163, 164, 'chi med yab sras gsum, 83, 133, 165, 166, 170, 171, 172, 173, 134, 135, 136 177, 182, 183, 184, 188, 271 'Chi med yab sras gsum gyi thugs brda yig, 99, 270 sgrub, 91 'Bri gung Chos rje, 178, 188, 191 cho 'brang, 166 'Bro clan, 178 cho ga, 100, 111, 122, 270 'Bro sgom, 176, 178, 180 chos dbyings, 99, 270 brTen 'gyur, 103, 108, 109, 270, 278 chos sku, 78, 87, 99, 114, 270 brTson 'grus rgyal mtshan, 98 Contemplation Treasure, 89, 271 brTson 'grus seng ge, 172, 191 Bru rGyal ba g-yung drung, 96 Bru rgyal ba'i phyag khrid, 96 D bsgrags byang, 132 dag snang, 89, 270 bsGrags pa (rin chen) gling grags, Daijōsai, 41, 270 133 Dam pa tog dkar, 137 bsGrags pa bon lugs, 131, 132, 133, dBa' bzhed, 148 135, 136, 148, 270 dBal 'bar stag slag can, 90, 108 bsGrags pa rin chen gling grags, dBal chen Ge khod, 86 133 dbal chu, 163 bshos bu, 184, 270 dBal nag khro rgyud, 91 bSod nams blo gros dbang gi rgyal dBal phur thugs sgrub, 91 po, 88 dbang gi spyod, 95 bSod nams rtse mo, 171, 191 dBra clan, 84 bsTan gnyis gling pa, 87, 109, 117 dBra ston bsKal bzang bstan pa'i bsTan pa blo gros, 98 rgyal mtshan, 94, 103, 120 bsTan pa'i rnam bshad, 129 dBu 'chad lo rgyus, 80, 113 bsTan rgyal dpal bzang po, 129 dByibs klong drag po khyung bsTan rtsis, 134, 158, 270 rdzong, 88 btsan spirits, 161, 176, 178, 180, dByil ston dPon gsas Khyung rgod 181, 189 rtsal, 134 Buddhacarita, 22, 202, 207 INDEX 283 dByings rig rin po che'i mdzod, 97, Eternal Bön, 77, 78, 84, 89, 91, 93, 121 94, 95, 98-103, 119, 129, 137, deva, 270, 274 149, 270, 272 dGe bshes, 98 expanded chest, 21, 161, 162, 163, dGe lugs pa, 77, 150 170–173, 177, 183, 184, 271 dgongs gter, 89, 271 dgra lha, 177, 271 dhāraī, 145, 271 F dharma, 203, 271, 279 Fa-Hsien, 213 Diamond Mandala, 69, 70, 274, 279 framing, 1, 2, 7, 8, 9, 13, 14, 17, 18, Distinguishing [the Three Vows], 20, 21, 22, 72, 154, 205, 228, 170 238, 247 dkar khrid, 97, 271 dmar chog, 100, 271 dMar khrid dgongs pa yongs 'dus, G 88, 115, 116, 118 Gaṇapati, 182, 192 dMu rdo, 79, 116 Ganesh, 182, 197 Dolanji, 96, 107, 120, 121, 137, 174 Ganges, 172 Dorjedrak Monastery, 169 garbhadhātu, 63 dPyad bu khri shes, 137 garbhadhātuma-ala, 69, 70, 271, Drag po'i gcod, 95 274, 279 Dran don mun sel sgron ma'i 'grel gCod, 95, 96, 102 pa, 80 Ge sar, 178, 181 Dran pa bka' thang, 79, 80, 81 geomancy, 247 Dran pa nam mkha', 78, 79, 80, 81, Glang po rin po che la nor blang ba'i 82, 83, 84, 87, 91, 99, 103, 105– man ngag, 182 114, 116, 133, 134, 145, 148, Gling bzhi bstan pa'i 'byung khungs, 152, 195 136 Drang don mun sel sgron ma, 80 glo ba, 167 Drung mu gcod chen, 95, 122 glud, 163 'dul ba, 139, 141, 187, 271 Glud, 163 Dunhuang, 128, 135, 136, 137, 138, gNya' khri btsan po, 133, 135, 144 141, 146, 147, 149, 152, 167, gNyan chen Thang lha, 177, 178 173, 174, 181, 183, 184, 192, 193 Golden Manuscript Tanjur, 182, 193 Dur chog, 153 goma, 171, 272 Durgacandra, 172 goms, 96, 271 Durjayacandra, 172 gotra, 166, 276 Gri gum btsan po, 100, 141 E 'Gru btsun Shes rab 'od zer, 86, 107 gSang ba bsen thub, 82 Early Diffusion, 77, 100, 130, 139, gsang ba chos lugs, 132, 271 141, 142, 144, 145, 146, 271, 278 gSang sngags gling pa, 79, 91, 96, Earth Treasure, 89, 277 99, 100, 102, 106, 112, 113, 123 eight saints, 258 gsar dar, 100, 271 Ekajāti, 93, 113 gSar ma pa, 139, 144, 145, 147 Emanation Bodies, Four Main, 78, gShen chen klu dga', 138, 164, 168, 278 170, 174, 182, 183 Entrance into the Glow of the Ocean, gShen clan, 128, 138 97 gShen sras Lha rje, 95 284 INDEX gSur bsngo, 163 I gtan la phab pa, 80, 272 gter gsar, v, 100, 125, 129, 130, 272 identity gter srung, 79, 80, 272 codification of, 249 gter ston, 77, 86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 99, Increasing Cutting, 95 100, 101, 102, 108, 110–112, India, 4, 5, 6, 16, 18, 21, 22, 39, 45, 117, 132, 134, 135, 148, 152, 272 52, 58, 62, 63, 65, 71, 87, 94, gter yig, 99, 272 126, 132, 166, 171, 172, 178, gTo bu 'bum gsangs, 137 186, 187, 189, 199–201, 203, gtor ma, 162, 163, 171, 279 206, 207, 208, 212, 213, 218, gTsug lag srid pa'i bu bzhi, 137 220, 230, 266 Gu ru chos dbang, 133, 135 Indra, 33, 36, 52, 224, 272, 279 g-yab dar, 178, 272 Indus civilisation, 199 g-Yab dar, 178 Injong, 246 Gyer mi nyi 'od, 82, 134, 138 Ise shrines, 58, 64, 67, 272 Gyim shod Shel le rdzong drug, 85 āskandana, 165 g-yung drung bon, 77, 78, 84, 89, 91, 93, 94, 95, 98–103, 119, 129, 137, 149, 270, 272 J g-Yung drung dgu brtsegs, 94 Jainism, 200 g-Yung drung las rnam par dag pa'i 'Jam mgon Kong sprul, 78 rgyud, 82 Jambudvīpa, 4, 272 g-Yung drung mthong grol, 83 jātakarman, 202, 272 g-Yung drung tshe dbang rgyal po, Jo nang pa, 77 87, 88, 99 Jurchen, 249, 273 g-Yung drung/Padma mthong grol, 83 gZe ston sPu gu rGyal mtshan, 165 K gZer mig, 93, 94 Kalkin, 94 gZi brjid, 84, 93, 95, 105, 120 kami, 19, 27, 29–47, 49, 58, 60–62, 66, 68, 71–73, 75, 267, 273 H kangaku, 54, 273 Kanjur, 79, 90, 92, 93, 105, 106, Ha shang Kong tse, 137 118, 120, 159, 169, 192, 273 Hayam Wuruk, 219 Kap the Kappa, 161, 194 Hevajra sādhana, 172 karma, 3, 275 Hiei, Mount, 272 Kauṭalya, 201 Hijaz, 152 Kauṭilya, 201 Hindu-Buddhism, v, 23, 209, 212, Kha ba dkar po, 88, 110 221, 225 kha byang, 132, 134, 136 Hirata Atsutane, 44, 59, 272 Khams, 77, 79, 85, 86 homa, 96, 171, 202, 272 Khams chen, 85, 86 honji suijaku, 30, 31, 35, 39, 45, 46, Kho ma 'Bro rje, 178 272, 279 Khos po Blo gros thogs med, 134 Hor btsun Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin, khra khrid, 97, 273 86, 87, 102, 105 khregs chod, 96, 273, 278 Hou Tangshu, 255, 272 Khri srong lde btsan, 79, 80, 81, 100, Hūṃ chen 'Gro 'dul gling pa, 89, 92, 180 104 Khro bo lha rgod thog pa, 90 INDEX 285

Khro gnyan rgyal mtshan, 95 M Khyung lung rNgul mkhar, 182, 184 Khyung po, 79, 84, 85, 88, 90, 109, Ma rgyud, 115, 153 110 Magadha, 200, 208, 266 Khyung ser clan, 90 Mahāvairocana, 19, 35, 62, 63, 64, Kālacakra, 94, 177, 195 65, 69 kāvya, 167, 171, 273 Mahābhārata, 200, 274 Kāya-vāk-citta-suprati2hā, 172, 191 Mahāmāyūrī, 189, 191, 194 Kim Kwanŭi, 247 Mahāvastu, 202 Kim Pushik, 23, 239, 240, 249, 250, mandala, 65, 150, 151, 153, 214, 252, 253, 254, 259, 273 224, 271 Kim Wije, 247 Manjusri, 258 kishōmon, 32, 273 mantra, 51, 145, 176, 271, 274 Klu ‘bum, 127 mappō, 30, 37, 38, 60, 61, 274 Knowledge Holders, 83, 86, 88, 90, Mar ston rGyal legs, 95 106, 109, 111–114, 120, 122, Mauryas, 199 133, 135, 137, 276 Mayadanawa, 224 Koguryŏ, 251, 255, 256, 273 mda' dar, 177, 275 kokugaku, 19, 20, 44, 48, 49, 54–61, mDo 'dus, 93, 118, 127, 128, 147, 71–74, 272, 273, 275, 280 149, 152, 156, 158 Kokutai no hongi, 29, 30, 40, 42, 273 mdzo, 183, 271 Kong po, 88, 90 Me ston Nyi ma rgyal mtshan, 90 Kong po bon ri, 88 Meiji, 46, 210, 275 Koryŏ, 23, 24, 235–237, 239–246, Mgar ba nag po, 179 249–256, 258–263, 271–274, 278 mGon po rdo rje, 174 Koryŏ segye, 247 Mi shig rdo rje, 84, 87, 96, 107, 108, Koryŏsa, 247 109, 110, 111, 112, 120 Krtanagara, 219 Mātṛceṭa, 201 Kūkai, 64, 274, 275, 277 mkha' 'gro, 78, 79, 86, 88, 90, 102, Kun grol grags pa, 78, 84, 88–90, 97, 109, 114–116, 122, 275 99, 102, 107, 108, 115–118, 154 mKha' 'gro gad rgyangs, 95, 96 Kun gsal snying po, 92, 104, 118 mKha' 'gro gsang gcod, 95, 119 mKha' 'gro 'Od ldan 'bar ma, 91, 108 L mKha' 'gro snying thig, 89, 115 mKhan chen bsTan pa blo gros, 98 Lalitavistara, 146, 147, 203, 207 mKhan chen Nyi ma bstan 'dzin, 86 Lama Zhang, 187, 190 mKhas pa'i dga' ston, 140, 174 Las bzhi rgyun lnga'i sbyin sreg, 96, mKhyen brtse dbang po, 132 112, 123 mngal skyes, 80, 275 Later Diffusion, 77, 100, 126, 129– mNyam med Shes rab rgyal mtshan, 131, 133, 138–147, 149, 151, 85, 95, 98, 100 154, 276 monism, 12, 14, 24, 237, 244, 260 Laws of Manu, 200 Motoori Norinaga, 44, 58, 75, 275 lDong clan, 85 Mouffe, Chantal, 250 lDong yul, 85, 86 Mpu Tantular, 217 lHa tho tho ri gnyan btsan, 133 mun mtshams, 96, 275 Liao, 23, 249, 251, 253, 254, 274 Myi yul skyi mthing, 25, 135, 137, Lotus Sutra, 271 142 Lung rtogs bstan pa'i nyi ma Rin po che, 89, 98, 115, 153 286 INDEX

Myoch’ŏng, 23, 24, 235, 236, 238– P 244, 246, 249–256, 258–261, 274, 275 p’alsŏng, 258 Pa dam pa sangs rgyas, 167, 175, N 195 Padma Gar dbang, 90 nag khrid, 97, 275 Padmasambhava, 78, 80, 83, 84, 87, Nagarakertagama, 219, 223 91, 94, 99, 100, 102, 103, 110, Nalanda, 218 112, 113, 117, 131–134, 136, Nam mkha' rgyal mtshan, 95, 119 137, 145–148, 152, 157, 169 Nam mkha' rin chen, 85, 94, 109 Pali, 205, 271 Nam mkha' spyi gcod, 86, 87 panca sraddha, 229, 276 Nandas, 199 Peaceful and Wrathful deities, 97, nativism, v, 1–8, 10– 14, 17–25, 40, 106, 116, 120, 280 48, 51, 53–57, 59, 60, 61, 66, 68, Peaceful Cutting, 95 71–75, 162, 199, 203, 210, 211, Pedanda Boda, 222, 276 225, 228, 230, 231, 235, 236, Pedanda Siwa, 222, 276 237, 239, 243, 244, 245, 249, pho brang, 166 253–256, 258, 259, 260, 261, 277 Pho lha nas, 182 nats, 5 phrin las bzhi, 96, 276 Natyashastra, 216 Phun tshogs blo gros, 98 nawa sanga, 217 phyi dar, 77, 100, 126, 129, 130, New Bön, v, 20, 21, 77–84, 87–92, 131, 133, 138–147, 149, 151, 94–103, 105, 108, 111, 112, 125, 154, 276 129, 130, 270 pluralism, 1, 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, New Diffusion, 100, 271 16, 18, 22, 211, 212, 216, 221, New Treasure, v, 100, 125, 129, 130, 226, 227, 236, 237, 245, 260, 272 273, 274 Nichiren, 40, 275 po ti, 99, 276 Nāgārjuna, 172, 183, 201, 208 Powerful Cutting, 95 Nihon shoki, 64, 67, 69, 275 Pressure of the Ocean, 97 nyams myong, 176, 275 Protector of the Treasure, 79, 80, 272 Nyang ral nyi ma 'od zer, 135, 146 puja, 276 nyekah, 222, 275 Pure Land, 34–37, 39, 43–45, 51, 72, Nyi ma bstan 'dzin, 86 269, 276 Nyi ma rgyal mtshan, 90 Pure Vision, 89, 270 purohita, 202, 203, 276 puspa, 222, 276 O puspa linga, 222 O rgyan, 87, 107, 110, 114, 135, 146 Oakeshott, Michael, 250 Q 'Od ldan 'bar ma, 91, 108 'Ol mo lung ring, 86, 93, 94, 126 qi, 43, 276 Old Bön, 100, 149, 151, 270 Ōmine, 64, 65, 73, 276 R Oral Transmission, 83, 88, 99, 278 rabs, 82, 119, 128, 137, 141 Rāgarāja, 64 rajadewa, 214, 276 INDEX 287

Rāmāyaa, 200, 276 rMa ston shes rab seng ge, 134 rang grol, 115, 116, 119, 145, 276 rMa ston srid 'dzin, 134, 138 Ratnāvalī, 201, 208 rMa ston srol 'dzin, 82 rdo rje, 84, 87, 88, 96, 99, 107–112, rMe'u clan, 88 114, 116, 117, 120, 122, 123, rNgul mkhar, 125, 156, 181, 184 174, 276 rNying ma pa, 20, 77, 103, 129, 133, rDo rje phag mo, 99 139, 143, 145, 147, 272 rDor brag Rig 'dzin, 169, 196 rTa mgrin, 93, 113, 114, 122 rDzogs chen gser zhun, 99, 109 rTen ne, 180 rDzogs pa chen po zhang zhung rTogs ldan Dri med g-yung drung, snyan rgyud las gcig rgyud 'od 92 gsal bdun skor, 97, 123 rtogs pa, 94, 120, 176, 276 rdzus skyes, 80, 276 rTsa gsum kun 'dus, 90 rGod tshang pa mGon po rdo rje, 174 rtsa rlung, 97, 277 rGya brTson 'grus seng ge, 172, 191 rTsa rlung mkha' 'gro gsang mdzod, rgya mtsho ar la gtad, 97 78, 102, 116 rgya mtsho dwangs su zhugs pa, 97 rTse drug, 85, 86, 109, 112, 114 rGyal ba 'od zer, 89 rGyal ba'i dbang po, 88 rGyal ba'i dbang po, sangs gling S yang sprul, 88 sa gter, 89, 277 rGyal legs, 95 Sa skya pa, 77, 191 rgyal po, 87, 88, 99, 109, 113, 181, Sadasiwa, 218 276 Sahā World, 33, 34, 35, 36, 64 rGyang shod, 86 sakti, 215, 219–221, 224, 277 rGyang shod bon dgon, 86 Sakya Pandita, 170, 171, 175, 184, rgyas pa'i gcod, 95 186, 187, 188, 190, 196 Ri bo rtse drug, 88, 111 Śākyamuni, 6, 34, 35, 38, 62, 64, 258 rig 'dzin, 83, 86, 88, 90, 106, 109, samanujñā, 165 111–114, 120, 122, 133, 135, Sangs rgyas bstan 'dzin, 86, 87, 102, 137, 276 105 Rig 'dzin bDud 'dul gling pa, 89 Sangs rgyas gling pa, 83, 84, 87, 88, Rig 'dzin gyer mi nyi 'od kyi skyes 90, 92, 98, 100, 106, 109, 111, rabs rnam thar yon tan thugs rje 112, 113, 114, 117, 122 nyi ma, 82, 119 Sangs rgyas gling pa, Byang chub rig pa, 96, 192, 276 rdo rje, 88, 117 rigs, 166, 276 Sanskrit, 51, 52, 144, 145, 165, 167, Rin chen bzang po, 172 171, 172, 175, 177, 187, 200, Rin chen gter mdzod, 78 202, 203, 207, 214, 216, 220, Rin chen mtsho, 84, 88 266, 269–280 Rin chen mtsho mo, 88 sba (or sba shing), 177, 277 Rin chen 'od zer, 89 sBa bzhed, 148, 196 Ris med, 129, 150 sba or sba shing, 177, 277 rjes su 'brang ba, 166 sbyin bsregs, 171, 272 rMa, v, 82, 83, 108, 117, 125, 126, Secret Manner of the Dharma or 127, 128, 129, 132–135, 137, Buddhism, 132, 271 138, 148, 150, 152, 155 sems bskyed, 100, 277 rMa clan, 126, 129, 135, 137, 138, sems kyi ngo sprod, 96, 277 150, 152 sGa clan, 88 rMa ston lcam me, 134 Shailendra, 218 288 INDEX

Shakya thub pa, 137 sPrul sku blo ldan snying po'i rnam Shambhala, 93, 94, 117, 194 thar ngag spros, 85, 121 Shangs pa bka' brgyud, 77 sprul sku gtso bo bzhi, 78, 278 Shar rdza bKra shis rgyal mtshan, sprul sku'i smon lam, 93 89, 90, 94, 95, 121 sPrul sku'i zhing mchog sham bha la shari’a, 226, 277 'od mo'i gling gi rtogs pa brjod Shed, 179 pa, 94, 120 Shel shig g-Yung drung rgyal po, 87 sPu gu rGyal mtshan, 165 Shes rab rgyal mtshan, 85, 95, 98, Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang, 132, 100 134, 136 Shing rong, 86 srid pa'i lha, 133, 278 Shingon, 19, 36, 61, 64, 65, 72, 271, Srid pa'i mdzod phug, 138 274, 277, 279 Srid rgyal srog sgrub, 91 shinkoku, 18, 29–32, 38–42, 45–49, sTag bla phur bu, 91 59, 60, 62, 63, 71, 277 sTag gzig Dran pa nam mkha', 80 Shinto, 1–3, 5–7, 11, 15, 18, 19, 20, sTag 'tsher Rin po che Thub bstan 27, 31, 38, 39, 43, 44, 46, 47, 59, 'jigs med nor bu, 161 72, 75, 206, 207, 210, 267, 277, sTeng chen, 85, 87, 90 278 sTon pa gshen rab, 93, 94, 95, 99, shog ser, 99, 112, 277 100, 101, 105, 147, 152 siddha, 51, 277 sTong rgyung mthu can, 95 sādhana, 172, 183, 277 Suika Shinto, 43, 44, 278 Silver Fort, 125, 156, 181, 182, 184 Sukchong, 246 Siwa, 215, 217–219, 222, 225, 276 Sumeru, Mount, 4, 33, 52, 53, 59, sKu gshen, 181 272, 274, 278 sKu gsum don rgyud, 92 Suparigraha, 172 sKu gsum rang shar, 92, 97 susiddhi, 63, 271, 274 sku lha, 178, 180, 274 svadharma, 203, 278 Sky Dancer, 78, 79, 86, 88, 90, 95, Symbolic Script, 99, 270 99, 109–111, 116, 117, 275 syncretism, 8, 9, 11–14, 21, 82, 155, skyabs 'gro, 100, 277 184, 187, 237, 260 sKyang sprul Nam mkha' rgyal mtshan, 95, 119 skyems, 179, 184, 277 T sKyi mthing, 137 Tag zig, 80, 87, 93 sman, 177, 183, 277 Tag zig Dran pa nam mkha', 80 sMan ri monastery, 96 Taishaku, 33, 34, 272 smon lam, 80, 93, 114, 278 Taishan Fujun, 278 sMon rgyal lha sras rin po che, 92 Taizan Fukun, 33, 34, 278 snga dar, 77, 100, 130, 139, 141, Tan’gun, 246, 263, 278 142, 144–146, 271, 278 tantra, 91, 158, 169, 170, 177, 275, sNyan brgyud, 83, 88, 99, 278 278 sNyan rgyud zhi gcod, 95 Tantra, 91, 158, 169, 177 Sŏn, 240, 247, 248, 260, 278 Tara, 218 sPa btsun bsTan rgyal dpal bzang po, tattwas, 221, 278 129 Ten injunctions, 249 sprul sku, 78, 84, 85, 88, 89, 90, 93, Tendai, 19, 61–63, 72, 271, 272, 108, 110, 278 274, 275, 278, 279 sPrul sku Blo ldan snying po, 84, 94, Tengyur, 92 99, 107 INDEX 289

The Forty-Two Sections of Buddhist Ŭn Wŏnch’ung, 247 Sūtras, 168 Upavedas, 203, 279 Thirty-three Gods, 182 upāya, 62 thod rgal, 96, 97, 273, 278 uraga, 167, 279 Thod rgal snang ba bzhi yi nyams len, 97, 118 Three Han, 247 V Three Immortals, 82, 84, 88, 91, 92, Vairocana, 78–82, 84, 91, 103, 113, 98, 99, 102, 113 114, 116, 134, 148 Three Immortals, Father and Sons, Vaiśya, 204, 279 83, 133, 134, 135, 136 vajra, 63, 64, 65, 276, 279 Thub bstan 'jigs med nor bu, 161 Vajrabodhi, 218 Thub bstan rDo rje brag, 169 vajradhātu, 63 Tibet, 1, 3, 5, 18, 20, 21, 24, 77, 79, vara, 201, 204, 279 80, 89, 90, 92, 101, 102, 104, Variegated Guide or Guidance, 97, 113, 115, 117, 118, 125–127, 273 130, 135, 140, 143, 144, 146, Veda, 203 148, 151–159, 163, 169, 171– Vedic ritual, 200 173, 175, 176, 180, 181, 186– vetra, 177, 277 192, 194–197, 206, 207, 265, Vikramaśīla Monastery, 172 267, 276 Vinaya, 61, 139, 174, 187, 271, 279 Tingri Hundreds, 167 Vinaya Sūtra, 174 Tōdaiji, 34, 35, 48, 52, 66, 279 torma, 171 Tosŏn, 247 W treasure, 58, 100, 115, 129, 132, 134, Wa dge, 86 148, 164, 165, 168, 190, 272, Wa dge shug zhabs dgon pa, 86 275, 277 Wairocana, 218 Treasure Revealer, 77, 86, 88, 89, waka, 9, 59, 67–72, 279 90, 91, 99, 100, 101, 102, 108, wakō dōjin, 36, 279 110–112, 117, 132, 134, 135, Wang Kŏn, 246 148, 152, 272 Wayang style, 216, 279 Treasure Scripts, 99, 272 Weltanschauung trichiliocosm, 34, 279 pluralist, 249 Tsangpo (Brahmaputra) River, 169 Western Capital, 250 Tsha ba rong, 88, 112 White Guidance, 97, 271 Tshe dbang bDe chen snying po, 90 Wisnu, 215, 218, 225 Tshe dbang bod yul ma, 83, 102, 119 Womb Mandala, 63, 69, 271 Tshe dbang rig 'dzin, 83, 109, 111, 113, 122, 135, 137 Tshe dbang snyan brgyud kyi lo X rgyus, 83, 102 Tshe dbang snyan rgyud kyi lo rgyus, Xiao Xunning, 251 83, 102 Tshul khrims seng ge, 84 Y Ya ba Kya Cig, 181 U yaka, 187 Ultra Secret Manner of Tīrthika-s or Yama, 33, 34, 64, 278, 279 ‘Heretics’, 132, 280 Yamazaki Ansai, 43, 278 290 INDEX

Yanagita Kunio, 44, 280 Z yang gsang mu stegs lugs, 132, 280 Yang rtse klong chen, 97 Zhal bsro, 174 Yang tig ye shes mthong grol, 87, Zhang zhung, 25, 78, 80, 85, 91, 96, 109, 117 97, 119, 126, 127, 145, 153, 174, Yang zab nam mkha' mdzod, 96 197, 270 yantra, 280 Zhang zhung Dran pa nam mkha', 80 Yar lung, 126 Zhang zhung snyan rgyud, 78, 96, 97 Yar lung dynasty, 126 zhi ba'i gcod, 95 Ye she mtsho rgyal, 80 Zhi byed, 167, 169, 176, 177, 178, Ye shes dbal mo, 79, 106, 164 180, 197 Yejong, 247 Zhi gcod lus sbyin bsdus pa, 95, 122 Yi dam dbal gsas rtsod bzlog, 86 zhi khro, 97, 106, 116, 120, 280 Yi dam gshed dmar spyi 'dul, 86 Zhi khro dgongs 'dus, 101, 108, 116, Yogācāra, 218, 280 118 Yongs 'dzin Rin po che, 84, 86, 87, Zhi rgyas dbang drag dgongs 'dus 97, 98, 105, 107, 153, 154 sgrub pa, 96 Zla shod, 86