A very political monk

Why do we think the Dalai Lama is a living saint?

This Sunday, the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu will be awarded the Fetzer Prize for Love and Forgiveness at the 2009 Vancouver Peace Summit. I have to admit that I'd never heard of this prize until today, but I can tell you that it's worth $100,000 (£63,000) and that the Fetzer Institute is based in the town of Kalamazoo, Michigan, previously best known as the place where, according to the 1942 hit record, the Glenn Miller band's singer had a girl (or rather, a gal).

I am delighted for Archbishop Tutu, who has always seemed to combine astounding cheerfulness and compassion with a highly accurate moral barometer, calling it right, for instance, on Robert Mugabe -- he described him as "a caricature of an African dictator" -- when too many of his fellow countrymen chose to keep silent about "Comrade Bob's" destructive behaviour.

The Dalai Lama, though, I'm not so sure about. It's not just that I'm suspicious of the amount of time he appears to spend hanging around with Hollywood stars struck dumb by being in the presence of a "God-King", and a "Boodist" one to boot. Nor is it just that I've not been totally convinced of his great holiness since my old colleague at the Independent Johann Hari came back from interviewing him and declared to the startled office: "I've just been called 'fat' by the Dalai Lama." The exchange appeared in the paper as follows:

"Why do the rich need so much? We each only have one stomach. Well, not you," he says, looking at my belly. "You appear to have two."

Every action he takes carries the possibility of political repercussions, and it is misleading simply to see him as a religious leader. He and Tibet have become pet causes in the west, while the Dalai Lama is now such an icon that nobody ever questions the wisdom of what he does any more. Now, I'm not saying that Tibetans may not have very good cause to feel that they have been conquered and oppressed by the Chinese. But so do the Uighurs of Xinjiang, of whom the world became briefly aware in July when 200 died in riots in the province. They, however, have since been completely forgotten again. If only they had a great spiritual leader to capture our attention . . .

This August "His Holiness" visited Taiwan after the island had been hit by a typhoon, and in November he is due to visit the Tawang monastery in Arunachal Pradesh -- a region China calls Southern Tibet. The Chinese claim both areas as theirs, and just as his trip to Taiwan infuriated Beijing, so will his forthcoming jaunt. "The visit further reveals the Dalai clique's anti-China and separatist essence," a spokesman from the Chinese foreign ministry told a reporter from Asia Sentinel. "China's stance on the so-called Arunachal Pradesh is consistent. We firmly oppose Dalai visiting the so-called Arunachal Pradesh."

He can claim that his activities are spiritual, but the Dalai Lama's appeal to the west has political ends, and as a result of that he deserves a little more scrutiny. Rarely aired, for instance, are the views of some who think he has actually set back the cause of Tibetan independence, or those who argue that China's invasion released Tibet's population from feudal serfdom, in which the peasants were slaves of the lamas.

So three cheers for "Arch" Tutu in being awarded this prize. But I think I'll hold off the ovation for the very political monk whom we've elevated into a living saint.

 

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
Photo: André Spicer
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“It’s scary to do it again”: the five-year-old fined £150 for running a lemonade stand

Enforcement officers penalised a child selling home-made lemonade in the street. Her father tells the full story. 

It was a lively Saturday afternoon in east London’s Mile End. Groups of people streamed through residential streets on their way to a music festival in the local park; booming bass could be heard from the surrounding houses.

One five-year-old girl who lived in the area had an idea. She had been to her school’s summer fête recently and looked longingly at the stalls. She loved the idea of setting up her own stall, and today was a good day for it.

“She eventually came round to the idea of selling lemonade,” her father André Spicer tells me. So he and his daughter went to their local shop to buy some lemons. They mixed a few jugs of lemonade, the girl made a fetching A4 sign with some lemons drawn on it – 50p for a small cup, £1 for a large – and they carried a table from home to the end of their road. 

“People suddenly started coming up and buying stuff, pretty quickly, and they were very happy,” Spicer recalls. “People looked overjoyed at this cute little girl on the side of the road – community feel and all that sort of stuff.”

But the heart-warming scene was soon interrupted. After about half an hour of what Spicer describes as “brisk” trade – his daughter’s recipe secret was some mint and a little bit of cucumber, for a “bit of a British touch” – four enforcement officers came striding up to the stand.

Three were in uniform, and one was in plain clothes. One uniformed officer turned the camera on his vest on, and began reciting a legal script at the weeping five-year-old.

“You’re trading without a licence, pursuant to x, y, z act and blah dah dah dah, really going through a script,” Spicer tells me, saying they showed no compassion for his daughter. “This is my job, I’m doing it and that’s it, basically.”

The girl burst into tears the moment they arrived.

“Officials have some degree of intimidation. I’m a grown adult, so I wasn’t super intimidated, but I was a bit shocked,” says Spicer. “But my daughter was intimidated. She started crying straight away.”

As they continued to recite their legalese, her father picked her up to try to comfort her – but that didn’t stop the officers giving her stall a £150 fine and handing them a penalty notice. “TRADING WITHOUT LICENCE,” it screamed.


Picture: André Spicer

“She was crying and repeating, ‘I’ve done a bad thing’,” says Spicer. “As we walked home, I had to try and convince her that it wasn’t her, it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her who had done something bad.”

She cried all the way home, and it wasn’t until she watched her favourite film, Brave, that she calmed down. It was then that Spicer suggested next time they would “do it all correctly”, get a permit, and set up another stand.

“No, I don’t want to, it’s a bit scary to do it again,” she replied. Her father hopes that “she’ll be able to get over it”, and that her enterprising spirit will return.

The Council has since apologised and cancelled the fine, and called on its officials to “show common sense and to use their powers sensibly”.

But Spicer felt “there’s a bigger principle here”, and wrote a piece for the Telegraph arguing that children in modern Britain are too restricted.

He would “absolutely” encourage his daughter to set up another stall, and “I’d encourage other people to go and do it as well. It’s a great way to spend a bit of time with the kids in the holidays, and they might learn something.”

A fitting reminder of the great life lesson: when life gives you a fixed penalty notice, make lemonade.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.