It's time someone exposed the limitations of the books currently being issued under the authorship of the Dalai Lama. What I want to say is not that they express ideas other than his. My objection is that the ethical and political positions taken in these books are likely to infuriate even the most mildly ra-dical of readers.
To call these books anodyne is putting it mildly. The truth, rather, is that they are non-committal almost beyond belief. If the views expressed in The Art of Happiness at Work are in truth the Dalai Lama's, then I have to say that I find his views cautious in the extreme. But maybe they have been filtered for consumption in the mid-western states of the US, by his co-author, who runs a psychiatric practice in Phoenix,
Arizona.
I opened this book with moderate expectations of stirring words. It has long occurred to me that if the world's major religions announced that it was a sin to work in the manufacture of all armaments, then the chances for world peace would take a giant leap forward. What, I wondered, would one of the world's most esteemed Buddhist leaders have to say on the subject? Buddhists, after all, are said to be opposed to the taking of all life, even a mosquito's. What would His Holiness have to say about people taking a job producing weapons, some of them certainly capable of causing mass destruction, in the arms industry?
It's necessary to look at the bigger picture, the Dalai Lama says when confronted with the issue. Unless there's a fundamental change in society as a whole, he argues, "for defense purposes for the society, or even on the global level, nations do need weapons for security purposes. Especially in the American case, you look at the fact that in the world there are totalitarian regimes who are against democracy. I think so long as those nations are there, the American military power must remain." (page 164)
Democracy? Tibet has never been a democracy. And arms for democracy? Haven't we heard this somewhere before?
Again, "... there are Western European nations who produce weapons, but use them mainly for defensive purposes and do not abuse them. And similarly, the example of the United States, although the Russian threat is no longer there, so long as a totalitarian regime like China exists with a huge military power, some kind of deterrent power is necessary."
This is of course cogent realpolitik but hardly in line with traditional Buddhist thought on the use of force.
This cautious, tolerant approach extends throughout the book. The issue of mind-numbing, repetitive labor is raised -- a job on a production line, for instance, where there is no chance for the individual to make any choices (except to quit), or to interact significantly with his co-workers. Well, says the Dalai Lama, perhaps if such a worker spends time with his family and friends after hours, then such work might be tolerable. No strong stand against inhuman conditions in the workplace either, then.
In fact there are no strong stands against anything. The Buddhist concept of "right livelihood" is referred to, but it would seem that in His Holiness's view almost any work will fit this description if the individual's mental attitude to it is right.
Money too -- what matters is not how much you have but your attitude to wealth in general. This is in line with much spiritual teaching worldwide, though many will remember another great teacher saying it is harder for a rich man to get to heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.
It's little wonder the Dalai Lama is so popular with the leaders of the rich nations. He can be guaranteed not to upset the apple-cart. He makes the right noises about China, strongly supports Taiwan (for which, of course, he deserves the greatest credit), and doesn't ask anyone to protest about having to do any kind of work whatsoever.
It seems to me that the Dalai Lama is in danger of being maneuvered into being no threat to anyone, a harmless emblem we can pin on our lapels to convince ourselves that we have support on the high moral ground when we take a conservative view on almost anything. He disarms us with his smiles and his jokes, is capable of being all things to almost all men, and when really knotty problems arise tends to resort to formulas such as, "This is a very complicated question."
I cannot therefore recommend this book. It is true that it represents an advance on earlier items such as The Many Ways to Nirvana (reviewed in Taipei Times Oct. 17, 2004). This time he has a co-author who narrates the whole book, describing his conversations with the great man and using ample quotations. Howard Cutler follows his subject from India to Washington, collecting comments and answers to questions wherever he can. This is preferable to collections of lectures -- the Dalai Lama is not a born writer, and anyway English is not his mother tongue.
But Cutler shapes the narrative, creating in the process what the likes of Rupert Murdoch call "product." It's a story, and it begins with the Dalai Lama claiming that what he does himself, in his many hours of meetings and so on, is actually "nothing." Cutler initially claims not to understand this, but by the book's end he finally comprehends what the wise, smiling presence really means by this enigma. But I'll leave you to find out for yourself the exact nature of this particular jewel in the heart of the lotus.
Sept.16 to Sept. 22 The “anti-communist train” with then-president Chiang Kai-shek’s (蔣介石) face plastered on the engine puffed along the “sugar railway” (糖業鐵路) in May 1955, drawing enthusiastic crowds at 103 stops covering nearly 1,200km. An estimated 1.58 million spectators were treated to propaganda films, plays and received free sugar products. By this time, the state-run Taiwan Sugar Corporation (台糖, Taisugar) had managed to connect the previously separate east-west lines established by Japanese-era sugar factories, allowing the anti-communist train to travel easily from Taichung to Pingtung’s Donggang Township (東港). Last Sunday’s feature (Taiwan in Time: The sugar express) covered the inauguration of the
This Qing Dynasty trail takes hikers from renowned hot springs in the East Rift Valley, up to the top of the Coastal Mountain Range, and down to the Pacific Short vacations to eastern Taiwan often require choosing between the Rift Valley with its pineapple fields, rice paddies and broader range of amenities, or the less populated coastal route for its ocean scenery. For those who can’t decide, why not try both? The Antong Traversing Trail (安通越嶺道) provides just such an opportunity. Built 149 years ago, the trail linked up these two formerly isolated parts of the island by crossing over the Coastal Mountain Range. After decades of serving as a convenient path for local Amis, Han settlers, missionaries and smugglers, the trail fell into disuse once modern roadways were built
“Once you get there, you think, that’s a little embarrassing or revealing or scary... but ultimately, I learned that is where the good stuff is,” says Taiwanese-American director Sean Wang about writing indie breakout Didi (弟弟), which debuted at Sundance Film Festival Asia 2024 in Taipei last month. Didi is a heartwarming coming-of-age story centered on the Asian American experience. Not just a 2000s teenage nostalgia piece, but a raw, unflinching look at immigrant families and adolescent identity struggles. It quickly became the centerpiece of the event, striking a chord with not only those sharing similar backgrounds but anyone who’s ever
“Magical,” “special,” a “total badass:” step forward Kamala Harris, the 59-year-old dynamo who has rebranded her country at lightning speed, offering it up as a nation synonymous with optimism, hope and patriotism. For the rest of us, Kamala’s gift is her joy and vibrancy — and the way she is smashing it just months away from her seventh decade, holding up 60 in all its power and glory. Welcome to the new golden age. Hers is the vibrancy of a woman who owns her power, a woman who is manifesting her experience and expertise, a woman who knows her time has