Locating Tantra in Historical Narratives

Scholars are still at odds with each other, and with traditional Buddhist narratives, on the issue of when tantric Buddhism came into being. This essay is an overview of an emerging narrative which relocates Tantra in history, away from representing it as the death throes of Buddhism, but without accepting traditional stories which trace Tantra back to the time of the Buddha in 5th century BCE Indian.

From probably the 2nd century sutras began to appear which contained and were focussed upon a form of protective magic. These "dharani sutras" were to prove very popular in China. A little later, perhaps the 4th century, dharani style mantras began to be interpolated into well known Mahayana Sutras, particularly the Lotus, Lankavatara, and Golden Light Sutras. The Golden Light Sutra contains an obvious predecessor of the five Buddha mandala. Indeed there is an alternative version of the Golden Light, which was translated into Chinese earlier than the version which formed the basis of the English translation by Emmerick, and in that alternate and possibly older version, it is clear that a visualisation meditation is intended. By the early 5th century a more or less clear version of a tantric initiation appears in the Karandavyuha Sutra, and mantras were aimed at gaining rebirth in the Pure Land. However scholars agree that a fully formed Tantra definitely can be found in the mid 7th century - this being marked especially by the composition of the first systematic tantric text the Mahavairocana Abhisambodhi Tantra in which mantras are properly a tool for Awakening for the first time.

The early presence of various elements, such as mandalas and mantras (of a sort) which were later adopted by tantric Buddhists, has given rise to the misleading nomenclature "proto-tantra". If for instance the use of mantras constitutes "proto-tantra" then the entire Vedic tradition is proto-tantric. The term is meaningless. It makes more sense to just say that the mantra is Vedic. Similarly Tantra incorporated aspects of Shaiva practice - which is not proto-tantric, it is Shaivite. Ronald Davidson argues in his book Indian Esoteric Buddhism that despite the presence of some elements of tantric Buddhism in earlier periods, that a fully formed tantric movement came into being, quite suddenly, in the mid 7th century. This, he argues, was a response of Buddhism to the political and social chaos resulting from the destruction by the invading Huns of the Gupta Empire with it's extensive trade networks and many wealthy lay merchants.

Early Western scholars struggled to understand the history of Buddhism in India and came to some conclusions, that in retrospect look quite suspect. Some contemporary scholars have argued that this is because those 19th and early 20th century people were applying ready made historical narratives to India rather than observing what was there. The argument is that protestant critiques of the Catholic Church, which were in turn based on the understanding of the story of the Roman Empire were in operation. English and German scholars especially were expecting to find a three act narrative: an original Buddhism based on the founders own words and preserved in a canon of texts; a mature period of consolidation and missionary activity; and a period of decline and descent into idolatry and moral turpitude. Theravada Buddhism was shoe-horned into the first category largely, perhaps, because they had an intact canon and celibate clergy. Mahayana Buddhism was seen as a degeneration, for introducing elements of devotion, but did at least coincide with the spread of Buddhism to Central and East Asia. Tantra however was not even Buddhism, it was a distortion of the rational message of the Buddha, and the "pure" conduct of the Theravada monks.

However as research has filled in the gaps in history, and as methods especially in anthropology have become more sophisticated another picture emerges. There have been streams of Theravada Buddhism which have remained vital, and these fortunately have flourished in the west. However generally speaking the Buddhism of traditional Theravadin countries is moribund: the bhikkhus do not seek Awakening or even meditate; and when not lost in the abstruse categories of abhidhamma they are meddling in politics. This is not to say that early Buddhist methods (don't mention the 'H' word) were not effective if practised, only that the keepers of the texts ended up preferring to chant them as protective spells rather than put the contents into practice (a tendency that can be seen in every type of Buddhism in every county). Where they are practised the most ancient methods are as effective as any that came later, and some of the most inspiring Buddhists in contemporary times have roots in Theravadin reform movements.

The Mahayana is said to have emerged in part as a response to the formalism of early schools of Buddhism which emphasised scholasticism and had drifted into thinking of dhammas as actually existing (a subtle form of eternalism). A closer look tells us that there were many often competing Mahayanas. Arguments continue on exactly when and where Mahayana ideas began to emerge, but Gandhara with influences from Greek, Persian and Central Asian invaders must be at the top of the list of contenders - Indian writing kicked off here, as did making images of the Buddha, both of which had enormous effect on the Mahayana. Many Mahayana ideas - especially regards the Perfection of Wisdom - display links with this part of the world. Ironically some scholars have begun to refer to early, non-Mahayana, Buddhism as "mainstream", when that name more properly belongs to the Mahayana as it was amongst these communities that the Buddha's message was kept alive and constantly renewed, whilst conservative early schools preserved their canon, they did nothing with it.

Finally, and in full contrast to the Western view of it, tantric Buddhism was a reinvigoration of a waning Indian Buddhism which was reeling from incursions from the Huns - whose cousins were heading west to wreck Rome. Trade networks broke down and with it large scale support for monasteries where Buddhism was centred. Social chaos meant a change in priorities and required something new from the religious communities of India. The result was a brilliant synthesis of many existing elements providing both an invigorated search for Awakening, and a powerful protective magic - the two essential elements of (Indian) religion, which despite rationalist views had been present in Buddhism right from the beginning (to judge by our scriptures anyway). Buddhism, let alone Tantric Buddhism, did not survive the subsequent invasion of the Islamic Arabs and Turks that followed the collapse of the Guptas, and when Nalanda was sacked in the 12th century Indian Buddhism was already dead on it's feet. But Buddhism continues to thrive in adjoining areas such as Ladak, Bhutan, and Tibet right down to the present. The Chinese eventually ousted Tantric Buddhism, but it did survive in Japan in part by syncretising with Pure Land Buddhism and creating a strong power base in the laity.

Contra the views of scholars in the 19th and early 20th centuries then, a new view is emerging which looks at Buddhist history in a different light. Theravada far from being pure "original" Buddhism is a quiet, stagnant backwater; Mahayana carried the spiritual impetus of Buddhism forward and out of India into Central and Eastern Asia, and west as far as Persia as well! However it foundered in the breakdown of post Gupta Indian society. Tantra in this view, far from being a degeneration, was a vitally needed renewal in times of maximum upheaval and uncertainty - a positive revitalising response to changing times, rather than a fall into decay. While Buddhism in for example Sri Lanka mouldered (and the ordination lineage died out twice!), Buddhism in Tibet churned out saints and seers by the dozen.

The "original" spirit, the living heart of Buddhism was never situated in formalised rituals and preserved texts, though this view exists in Buddhism and helped to reinforce Protestant presumptions: it was and is in the hearts and minds of Buddhist practitioners striving for Awakening. Some of that spirit has been transplanted into "Western" soils now and we will see whether it can continue to grow.

Sir Edmund Hillary -- 1919-2008.

I grew up in small town New Zealand. Although I had my trials and tribulations, Taupo in the 60's and 70's was a great place to grow up. There was a more or less constant skirmish going on in our neighbourhood between the Pakeha kids and the Maori kids - which I look back on as being more to do with social conditions than race. We were the targets for their anger. But apart from that you could wander the streets without fear. If child abuse, rape, and murder were happening then as kids we were blissfully unaware of it. We walked to school and played in the street - something that no one seems to do anymore, at least in England.

Out the back of Taupo is a lump of a mountain, partially covered in forest. Tauhara hovers at the edges, a shy presence that looks over the town, but does not loom even though the foot hills are only a few minutes drive away. In those days one could climb it - the walk being difficult but rewarding. These days local Maori prefer people not to walk on the mountain, which is a shame. From the top one can see for many miles in every direction. At the far end of the lake, perhaps 100 kilometres away are the triplet of volcanoes, two of which - Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu - have erupted in my lifetime. The third, Tongariro, like Tauhara, is dormant. Maori legend has it that they are were a tribe of mountain beings who lived and loved in the area long before humans arrived. Standing on the lake front, the view to the west is obscured by high hills. To the east one can catch a glimpse of the Kaimanawa ranges - often with snow on their peaks in winter. We knew that our lake - 26 miles across - was, and is, in the caldera of a much larger volcano which last erupted around the time of Christ devastating much of the North Island along the way.

Later I moved to Auckland which is a city of a million plus people sprawling over a huge area. To navigate one triangulates using one or more of the many small volcanic hills scattered around. Most of the 63 volcanic vents in the area are just holes in the ground, some filled with water, but several rise high enough to be features of the landscape, and to offer spectacular 360 degree views of the city.

One other mountain looms large in my childhood memories: Everest. This is because in 1953 - 13 years before I was born - a great ox of a man called Ed finally reached the summit of the highest mountain in the world. Ed was a Kiwi, of course. There aren't many real heros in New Zealand history, and in those days we would not have considered Maori heros like Te Whiti o Rongomai one of ours. Ed was our hero. A genuine world class hero. In those days nothing much local was world class, and we probably still suffer from an inferiority complex. But Ed. He was our man. Tenzin Norgey was always acknowledged as having been with him , but in our minds it was Ed who did it, Tenzin kind of helped him along. (I think now that we didn't really give Tenzin enough credit and that a kind of naive racism was at work). To the rest of the world Ed became "Sir Edmund". But that was much too grand for us, and for him, and so he was always just Ed Hillary - nothing much needed to be said because this guy was the first to climb Everest, and after that... well we don't (or didn't) like to to get too carried away with praise and celebration. But everyone knew, and we were proud as can be of Ed. Ed was the fulfilment of the myth of the New Zealand Man, perhaps another reason why we tended to overlook Tenzin. Although most New Zealanders won't have read a book called "Man Alone" by John Mulgan, it somehow came to define a romantic ideal which all of our fore-fathers aspired to. It was about one man pitted against society, and then pitted against nature. He was rugged, self-reliant, and not bound by social conventions. Our version of the Hollywood cowboy I suppose only a lot less glamorous! Ed on Everest was the apotheosis of the "man alone" myth - although obviously he was never alone. Myths are funny like that.

Ed was renowned for his modesty - a true humility which meant that he was uncomfortable of people making a fuss about his achievements. This quality is highly admired in the New Zealand man. And so we loved him all the more. Returning to base camp he reported said, laconically "well... we finally knocked the bastard off". In truth Ed was neither the best climber on the team, nor the first choice for the ascent. But when the first team turned back, Ed got his chance. My image of him is an a large and very strong man, with a huge heart. He was never going to give up, was absolutely driven. He just ploughed straight up there. Of course this is a romantic view. But he was big and strong and determined. I think this almost caused a disaster in Antarctica where he drove his team to a dangerous exhaustion - it was difficult to keep up with Ed.

Much of what I know is the kind of thing that one absorbs from popular culture, from primary school projects, and from watching TV. Ed was often on TV. After Everest he carried on climbing and lead some expeditions, but it was his work with the Sherpas that maintained his profile. After all having climbed the biggest mountain, there isn't much kudos in climbing a smaller one. However Ed began to go out to Nepal and started trying to raise the quality of life for the Sherpas. He built schools and hospitals, often with his own hands. And it was for this also that we loved him. New Zealanders love the under-dog, I suppose because of that old inferiority thing. And then best way to sort anything out is to get stuck in and build something, eh. Someone said on the radio this morning, that he went to Nepal 120 times! In 1985 the government acknowledged his defacto role and appointed him High Commissioner to India, Nepal, and Bangladesh. He was active in New Zealand as well. Always helping people.

There is a Maori proverb that goes something like:

If you are going to bow down;
Let it be to a mighty mountain.

Ed was a mountain of a man. I never met him or anything, but in New Zealand anyone famous is one of your mates, even one of the family. Ed was not just one of us, but the best of us. He embodied all the virtues a New Zealand man should have, and as far as I know none of the vices. The rest of the world will probably remember him as the first man to reach the summit of Everest - if the news coverage of his death here in England is anything to go by - but back home he will always be more than that. He was an icon. There are very few people who are so virtuous that you naturally admire them, want to follow them, be like them. Ed was like that. He was good in the down-home sense of the word. Honourable, generous, kind, humble. These are the virtues I pursue as a Buddhist of course. Ed was my first exemplar of these virtues. I know that high up in the Himalayas - the abode of snows - that the Buddhist Sherpas will be chanting mantras, doing puja, and praying for his fortunate rebirth. For one who has lived so well, I think there need be no anxiety about his future; if I am anxious at all it is because one of the great spirits of our age has left the world, and for all the good he did, the world seems a darker place than ever and we need men like him all the more.

Kia ora, kia kaha, Ed. Haera ra. Farewell. We'll miss you.

image of Ed by Graeme Mulholland via Wikipedia.