This interview appeared in the New Zealand Herald, Love the way it was written.
The Dalai Lama interview
The NZ Herald
June 17, 2007
'It will be like interviewing Jesus," gushed an atheist of my acquaintance
before I went to see the Dalai Lama. Quite sensible people go quite ga-ga
over the Dalai Lama, who would be horrified to think that he was just like
Jesus. The Dalai Lama has better jokes. At least I think he does. A lot of
things that were probably jokes got lost in translation. But most of what is
on my tape is laughing, and most of it is him.
Why does he laugh all the time? He was, I remind him, a very bad-tempered
child.
"Oh, yes! At the young age, I followed my father's sort of ... hot head
practice. Ha ha ha. Then later I follow my mother's example. Ha ha ha. But
still, if I see people doing some silly things, I may lose my temper!"
"Also," he says, fixing me with what is supposed to be a faintly menacing
stare (he is not very good at this; the corners of his mouth are already
flickering in anticipation of the punchline), "if you ask some silly
questions, I may lose my temper. Ha ha ha."
I wouldn't care for him to lose his temper. He has already begun whacking my
leg, quite hard, I might add, for a smiling monk who preaches non-violence.
He will, I count, whack my leg five times in 20 minutes, each time more
affectionately and hence harder. You wouldn't want him to be your best
friend, you'd end up black and blue.
I had read that you are not allowed to touch the Dalai Lama, and that, on
leaving, you should walk backwards away from him. This was what one
journalist was told, many years ago, and when he left the room as directed,
the Dalai Lama watched for a bit, then turned him around and gave him a
friendly push. This sounds like another of his little jokes, but I'm not
taking any chances. When we arrive at the hotel I ask the bloke dealing with
the media what the protocol is.
Just follow His Holiness' lead, I'm told. I did wonder, briefly, what would
happen if I had, and had whacked the Dalai Lama's leg in return, but that
might have been pushing it. He is supposed to be the manifestation of a
deity. I don't think you are supposed to ask him about this although it
isn't banned. Nothing is, except silly, prurient questions. He was asked
these sorts of questions once before in New Zealand and he didn't laugh.
What you really get - because the room was full of people to help translate,
to guard, or just to sit in the room with the Dalai Lama and laugh at his
jokes - is an audience rather than an interview.
But I've never sat in a room with the manifestation of a deity before and,
as he is 71 and talking about retirement, I am unlikely to ever again.
In truth, you don't get to ask many questions (my half hour was whittled
down to 20 minutes due to some deeply unspiritual malarkey about the air
conditioning unit.) Also, he is a long talker, and questions are often
referred to the translator, which takes up still more time. Sometimes, the
four-way translations from me to the Dalai Lama, to the translator, and back
to the Dalai Lama go spectacularly awry.
He is talking about the attainment of happiness and I have asked (in an
attempt to find out whether his happy, always laughing monk image is
adequate) whether, and notwithstanding his early bad temper, he was simply
born happy. Which leads him to an explanation of how important a mother's
affection for a child is. Which leads him to ... this.
"The mother gives the hugs. And, [to the translator] what is this small
thing? You see?"
Translator: The nipple?
Dalai Lama: "Aah! The nipple! The nipple in the child's mouth. It feels very
happy."
Partly the difficulties were my fault. I should never have attempted to say
something about a photo the Herald ran of him last week: with a koala. What
a peculiar life you have, I say, whizzing round the world, patting horrible
diseased koala bears.
This goes to the translator but I rather feel he left the bit about the
koala out because the Dalai Lama says, "Oh, that I always do! If I have some
little power then of course I want to cure these sick people but then there
is no other way, except with a touch of my hand. I share in their suffering,
that's all."
I don't think the headline either of us had in mind was: Dalai Lama Cures
Koala.
He is having another little joke saying this at all because earlier I ask
him what he thinks people want from him. Do they want him to tell them the
meaning of life? "Oh! Some people want some kind of miracle, ha, ha,
healing. This is wrong. It's nonsense. I always make clear when I give the
talk that some people may come with too much expectation, and that's
nonsense."
You're out of luck, too, if you want him to tell you how to be happy.
"Some of them [do.] Their happiness will not come from the sky! Or through
miracle. Well, of course I have very little power and them among six billion
human beings, I don't think there is someone who really has miracle power."
What he talks about is the "importance of warm heartedness that I consider
the basis of peace of mind, peace of mind is the basis of happy life, or
successful life. Even when you come across some difficulties, with peace of
mind you can handle it better".
He says it so nicely, with big smiles, that he could be saying "bumph,
bumph, bumph" for an hour and we'd all still lap it up.
But what is it, exactly? Other than awareness of Tibet, and the idea of
happiness. He certainly isn't promoting Buddhism to Westerners because he
doesn't think Westerners should be Buddhists. Not really. "Hmm. It is more
risky. You have your own tradition, your whole culture ... It is safer to
keep to your own tradition."
I suggest that his gift is for, as he puts it, being able to talk to
audiences of thousands in a way that, "someone told me ... each individual
feels as if I'm conversing with them like old friends". This is not a gift.
It is "through training, through training".
I wondered what he thought of being always portrayed as the laughing monk,
when he is a serious person with serious issues to raise about Tibet. He
says he is a serious person. He believes in starting from a place of
scepticism - "very, very important. Scepticism brings questions, questions
brings investigation. So I am serious but not formal".
He has been a "refugee" since 1959 when he fled Tibet for India. This has
shaped his destiny, obviously, as the leader in exile of the Tibetan people
but also, he says, his character.
He says he dreams sometimes of Tibet but the reality is that he will be a
refugee for the rest of his life.
"But my main concern is: your life should be meaningful, that means
something useful to others. So I think, as a matter of fact, being a refugee
gives more opportunity to serve a greater number of people."
He says he feels he has been more "useful from outside [Tibet] rather than
inside. Also, if I remain in Lhasa, I think the 14th Dalai Lama still may be
a more reserved person. I think since I have become a refugee, now the 14th
Dalai Lama is becoming like a human being! Ha ha ha."
Which, I suppose, takes care of any question I might have had about what
it's like being a manifestation of a deity. He is, I hazard, a rather earthy
sort of monk. This goes to the translator and comes back as "down-to-earth"
which wasn't quite what I meant. He had been telling me about how he doesn't
get jet lag and still always wakes at 3.30am to meditate but that, pointing
at his stomach, there are other, aah, irregularities. I don't bother to get
this translated because I really do not want to know. He, of course, thinks
it's hilarious.
The silliest question he's been asked, the one that made him lose his
temper, is the one about what he thinks his legacy will be. This is daft,
apparently, because, "I am Buddhist, a monk. I can't think about my own
name. This is not right."
I did ask a silly question: What's it like being a celebrity?
"Aah! Bishop Tutu, my dear friend, he's the senior elder so ... I always let
him go in the front, then, from behind, I tickle him. So these days he
always describes me as the mischievous Dalai Lama!"
That is a very clever answer. As I leave, the manifestation of a deity gives
me a big, human hug. It is like being hugged by a Teletubbie in a maroon
pashmina. If he was to say, "big hugs," I wouldn't have been at all
surprised. It couldn't have got any odder, and perhaps what the 14th Dalai
Lama is all about is as strange and as simple as that.