Professional Documents
Culture Documents
centuries and across the Himalayas from India to Tibet, this paper will make
two general narrative arcs, the first examining the magicoshamanic roots of
tantric practices in India and the shamanic milieu in Tibet, which contributed
to their popular acceptance, and the second backtracking to trace the course
of the new tradition’s ‘‘domestication’’2 or ‘‘institutionalization’’3 into more
traditional Buddhism and its positioning as the secret peak of that system.
7. For instance, see Anne Klein and Khetsun Sangpo’s ‘‘Hail Protection’’ in Reli-
gions of Tibet in Practice, ed. Donald Lopez (Princeton: University Presses of California,
Columbia, & Princeton Limited, 1997): 400–409.
8. Samuel, Civilized Shamans, 8.
The ultimate aim of [the deity yoga practice described above] as of all Tantric yoga is
the attainment of Buddhahood, the ‘‘supreme siddhi’’ (siddhi ⳱ magical power, magi-
cal attainment). Once practitioners have taken on the identity of deities, however, en
route as it were to Buddhahood, the powers of the deities are accessible to them. This
is the basis of the ordinary or relative siddhis, which include such pragmatic and this-
worldly matters as healing, long life, prosperity, divination of future events, or the
destruction of obstacles and hostile forces. It is also the foundation of the ritual prac-
tice of the lamas.9
‘‘Calf ’s Nipple’’ clearly fall into the former category, while a deity yoga prac-
tice not performed to achieve Pragmatic goals falls into the latter. Tibetan
cultures took (and take) spiritual or shamanic powers as a tangibly real cate-
gory, and the power to enact magical rituals is not fundamentally separate
from tantra. Of course, one person’s use of a wrathful deity’s power to stop
an invading army is another person’s sorcery and magical politics, but a prac-
titioner defends such actions by citing an ultimately compassionate intention
(e.g., to stop the killing of innocents or to kill a ‘‘wrongdoer’’ in order to
protect one’s lineage against another’s attacks).
Thus, in Tibet tantra clearly can be used to address Samuel’s ‘‘pragmatic’’
concerns. In Indian Esoteric Buddhism, Ronald Davidson makes a similar claim
concerning the origins of tantric Buddhism in the medieval Indian communi-
ties of lay siddhas who introduced many of the concepts and tropes familiar
to the later tradition. These communities, he argues, flourished outside tradi-
tional monastic settings, frequently living in such marginal spaces as among
tribal peoples and in charnel grounds.13 Siddhas’ strong affiliation with char-
nel grounds suggested familiarity with the spirits believed to frequent these
areas and to cause disease, and because they were believed to exercise control
over spirits, siddhas were also seen as potent intermediaries able to drive out
the harmful spirits that cause illness or to harness those spirits to wreak havoc
on enemies.14 Indeed, Alexis Sanderson goes so far as to argue that all of the
Buddhist Yoginı̄tantras were pieced together from non-Buddhist tantric texts
(citing chapters from Buddhist tantras that very closely resemble non-
Buddhist tantric chapters), but that these texts then serve a distinctly Buddhist
function.15
Significantly, though the Buddhist siddhas and their antinomian practices
were influenced by Śaiva and Śākti siddhas and their (often deplored) prac-
tices, they were also, according to Davidson, influenced by tribal beliefs and
practices.16 For a variety of reasons, normative medieval Indian society began
to experience greater contact with tribal peoples, leading to an evident shift
in portrayals of these peoples in nontribal literature and a valorization—even
a romanticizing—of their ‘‘natural’’ lifestyle by nontribal traditions, Bud-
dhism among them. As part of this trend, tribal concerns and practices found
13. See Davidson, Esoteric Buddhism, particularly 173–235; and Alexis Sanderson,
‘‘Vajrayana: Origin and Function,’’ in Buddhism into the Year 2000: International Confer-
ence Proceedings (Khlong Sam, Thailand: Dhammakāya Foundation, 1994), 87–102.
14. Davidson, Esoteric Buddhism, 187–88 and 234.
15. Sanderson, ‘‘Vajrayana,’’ 92–93.
16. Davidson, Esoteric Buddhism, 224ff.; Samuel, Civilized Shamans, 408ff.
their way into the heart of the siddha tradition, with practices designed to
subjugate spirits or manipulate the energies of the world for various purposes
(healing among them, but also magical rites for subduing or even killing
enemies, bringing wealth, and other such ‘‘worldly’’ concerns).17 As we will
see later, integrating these new elements into traditional Buddhist ethics
proved a formidable challenge, one impossible to resolve completely. For the
moment, however, it is sufficient to underscore the borrowing taking place
from tribal praxis into institutional Buddhism via the tantric siddhas.
One final note on Davidson’s presentation of tantra as an amalgam of
Indian Buddhist praxis: If Davidson’s thesis is correct, and tantric/siddha
materials arose in lay communities and found support in royal courts even as
they were being massaged into the existing structures of Indian Buddhism,
then it should come as no surprise that they would appeal to lay Tibetans in
ways that monastic and scholastic exoteric Indian Buddhism would not. The
trend in monastic Indian Buddhism at the time of the first wave of dissemina-
tion into Tibet was toward the teachings of the so-called Second Turning of
the Wheel of Dharma, emphasizing such refined topics as the lack of inherent
existence (but not of mere functional existence) of all phenomena whatso-
ever.18 Not only did such topics require years of study—and, thus, literacy—
but they had very little bearing on the average lay practitioner’s daily life.
Indeed, given the sheer difficulty of access to these philosophical Himalayas,
they might, taken on their own merit alone, be aptly called esoteric (though
of course they were framed as a part of the exoteric underpinnings of the
Buddhist tradition, including the tantras).
However, Davidson’s theory of the origins of Indian Buddhist tantra has
been contested recently by Christian Wedemeyer, among others. Using semi-
otics to analyze Indian Buddhist tantric texts, he argues against the tribal and
shamanic origins theory and holds instead that these writings emerged from
within a monastic context and that the wandering, (anti-)ascetic lifestyle
described (and at times prescribed) by such works was temporary rather than
a distinct vocation for which monks would have to abandon their monaster-
ies. I will briefly explore his perspective below for the insights and correctives
it offers, but ultimately it obscures the shamanic concerns prevalent in the
Indian texts and in historical and contemporary Tibetan tantric practices.
Wedemeyer, citing the lack of historical evidence regarding the origins of
Buddhist tantra, turns to semiotics for assistance in unraveling the antinomian
What does it mean, then, for a practitioner of the Mahāyoga Tantras . . . to eat from
a skull a foul soup of polluting meats and bodily fluids? In this semiosis . . . , the
complete sign from the natural language of mainstream Indian culture—the signifier
beef, and so on in semiological union with its signified ‘‘ritual pollution’’—acts as a
signifier in the process of ritual consumption considered as a discourse. The signified
in this semiosis is the attainment of the enlightened state of nondual gnosis (advayajñā),
called in some sources communion (yuganaddha)—the ultimate goal of the prac-
titioner in which the deluded perception of things as having an intrinsic nature (pure
or polluting, good or evil) is transcended.21
Thus, the seemingly barbaric injunction to consume the flesh of humans and
dogs, among other animals, is explained by the gnostic function such ritual
consumption would have for a member of a Buddhist (or, potentially, any
ancient Indian) community.
Therefore, Wedemeyer argues, there is no need to ascribe the revolting
aspects of Buddhist tantra to ‘‘primitives’’ such as shamanically oriented tribal
peoples: ‘‘[T]he operative concept in this [tribal] interpretation is similarly
the notion that it must be simple, primitive societies, in which ‘magic’ held
19. Christian Wedemeyer, Making Sense of Tantric Buddhism: History, Semiology, and
Transgression in the Indian Traditions (NY: Columbia University Press, 2013), 106.
20. Ibid., 7.
21. Ibid., 121–22.
what one sees is a fairly clear example of a Tantric feature that has developed, not in
a Śaiva vacuum, nor even necessarily from a Śaiva prototype, but that gestated in a
shared ascetical zeitgeist in which a number of similar regimens (vrata) were in circula-
tion, and in which forms and features of the Buddhist and Śaiva idioms, as well as
from the overarching orthodox Smārta traditions, were mutually emulated.23
This approach makes sense, given the large amount of contact and mutual
influence evident between Buddhist and non-Buddhist religious elites in
ancient India. It also avoids unanswerable questions of the origins of specific
terms and practices. Wedemeyer also notes that although both systems use
the term caryāvrata, the Buddhist meaning seemed relatively stable, while the
Śaiva use of it ‘‘shifted significantly over time, progressively approximating
that found in the Buddhist sources.’’24 This presentation of mutual influ-
ence—rather than trying to figure out who was borrowing from whom—
does not assume that a given practice is either ‘‘Buddhist’’ or ‘‘Śaiva’’ but
does recognize points of contact between the traditions, a clear improvement
on earlier models of contact.
Finally, Wedemeyer provides textual arguments that the nondual tantras
were written by members of monastic communities rather than by marginal
siddha figures. After offering evidence that the tribal identities of some prom-
inent tantric Buddhist figures were entirely contrived (obscuring high-caste
status) and that the authors of the nondual Buddhist tantras were intimately
familiar with ‘‘standard-issue . . . nontransgressive’’ esoteric texts,25 he stakes
his own claim about early Indian Buddhist tantra: ‘‘Given these observations,
the most likely explanation is that the antinomian traditions of the later
Buddhist Tantras grew out of and were initially practiced within Buddhist
monastic or quasi-monastic enclaves.’’26 By his reading, the ‘‘massaging’’ of
the Buddhist tantras by high-status monastics (by means of commentaries and
the like) would have been done by groups of people similar to those who
originally composed the texts.
Much of what Wedemeyer brings to the discourse is very valuable, but he
does misread earlier historians, particularly Samuel, on the topic of the sha-
manic aspects of Indian Buddhist tantra. First, Samuel never suggests that the
shamanic elements of Tibetan Buddhism are ‘‘primitive’’ or in any way less
sophisticated than its philosophy or other ‘‘high’’ elements of the tradition;
quite the contrary, his Mind, Body, and Culture discusses shamanic states and
the ways they contribute to societies.27
In addition, there do seem to be elements of the ancient Indian Buddhist
tantras that clearly reflect shamanic concerns, and contemporary Indian (and
Tibetan) tantric practices also engage in a shamanic world of manipulating
spirits and other powerful nonhuman entities. Wedemeyer cites a non-
Buddhist tantric practice’s claim that if ‘‘the murderous rite it teaches’’ are
properly deployed, ‘‘ ‘[even] one who is renowned [as accomplished in] the
vidyāvrata [and] adorned with fame and so on, is affected by this procedure
and dies without further ado.’ ’’28 He then refers to a comparable Buddhist
tantra that claims its rite can ‘‘kill even a buddha,’’29 interpreting such claims
as functioning in the service of ‘‘transcendence of conceptuality.’’30 However,
Tibetan history suggests that rites to kill one’s enemies have at times been
used with just that purpose in mind, and Ju Mipam Rinpoché’s Calf ’s Nipple
offers more recent textual evidence of the same. Shortly after the above cita-
tion, Wedemeyer cites a passage from the Mahāvairocana tantra:
Gods such as Śakra, Brahmā and the like, piśāca-s, and mahorāga-s,
Paying homage from afar, will also protect all [associated with the mantrin].
They will also pay heed and do what they are commanded. . . .
Obstructors (vighna), evil gremlins (vināyaka),
demons (rāks.asa) and demonesses (mātr.kā)—
When they see the one who upholds the mantras, they pay homage from afar.31
and are in no way uniquely Tibetan. However, it is helpful to examine briefly how
they manifest in the Tibetan context.
36. Davidson, Esoteric Buddhism, 187–88.
37. Kapstein, Tibetans, 46–49.
38. It should be noted, at least in passing, that India was far from the only source
for Tibetan Buddhism. Central Asia and China also played important—though subse-
quently forgotten or downplayed—roles in transmitting Buddhist teachings. How-
ever, information on these early transmission lineages is extremely limited, and this
paper focuses on the continuity of Indian Buddhist tantra with its Tibetan form.
Songdetsen, Śāntaraks.ita, and Padmasambhava (the ruler, the monk, and the
tantrika) in place, the conversion of Tibet into a Buddhist nation could begin
in earnest.39
This narrative illustrates the Tibetans’ regard for their land (and, by exten-
sion, for their native spirits) as wild and difficult to tame, as well as their
deeply felt esteem for the magical powers of the accomplished tantrika.
Indeed, of the famous trio of king, monk, and tantrika, it is Guru Rinpoché
who is cast in legend as having visited every corner of the Land of Snows
and worked in countless ways to plant the seeds of a future (shamanically and
esoterically inclined) Buddhism. Śāntaraks.ita’s deeds seem to pale by compar-
ison in the Tibetan narrative imagination (though his scholarly texts are
greatly revered).
David Snellgrove, who has made a decades-long study of the Indo-Tibetan
tradition and of the pre-Indian-Buddhist tradition of Tibet, offers the follow-
ing insightful reflection on the popular embrace of Buddhism during the
early period of diffusion:
At a . . . popular level there was certainly a ready willingness to test the magical
powers of those representatives of the new religion who claimed the necessary com-
petence. . . . The general Tibetan belief in the malign activities of a host of nonhuman
beings provided Buddhist teachers with the opportunity of demonstrating their supe-
rior powers, and they could perhaps win their new clients with a more impressive
ritual and a greater display of confident knowledge than their rivals possessed. . . .
The nonhuman beings of Tibet . . . were already there when the first Buddhist
teachers arrived, and they had no choice but to come to terms with them. Thus the
general demand for the kinds of rites readily available in tantric literature was bound
to assist its promulgation.40
Significantly, rites of this kind were the domain of esoteric tantra, not
exoteric sūtra. Thus, although—according to the tenuous synthesis still being
forged in India at that time—one had to understand emptiness and fully culti-
vate bodhichitta before engaging in tantric practice, the reality on the ground
in Tibet at the time of the first diffusion of Indian Buddhism was that popular
interest seems to have been most engaged by the pragmatic applications of
the esoteric teachings. Monastic and institutional Buddhism had been estab-
lished in India for over a thousand years before tantra began to work its way
39. This version of the story is condensed from Kapstein, Tibetans, 68–70.
40. Snellgrove, Indo-Tibetan Buddhism, 452.
into the tradition, but in Tibet there was no such precedent, and in a popu-
lace who could neither read nor write and had never received teachings on
nontantric Buddhist philosophy, tantra naturally appealed more strongly than
exoteric sūtra at a popular level.
To return to a more standard Western account of Tibetan history, the
period of the first introduction of Indian Buddhism to Tibet (eighth to tenth
centuries CE) saw the introduction of the forms being developed in North-
west India, with an emphasis on the tantras but with many important sūtras
and nontantric commentaries also introduced at this time.41 For a variety of
reasons, it is difficult to know exactly which texts were translated into
Tibetan during this very early period. However, it is clear that Buddhist
teachers were welcomed and patronized by the imperial Tibetan court.
Beyond the predispositions of the Tibetan people, a broader paradox of
the esoteric must be acknowledged here. Esoteric discourse often revolves
around the efficacy (perhaps even supremacy) of its own praxis. It seems only
natural, then, that everyone—‘‘qualified’’ or not—should gravitate toward a
system that claims to be the most effective. As Dan Brown’s runaway success
with The Davinci Code illustrates, interest in ‘‘esoteric’’ topics has never been
restricted to the intellectual or spiritual elite. The Tibetan (and now the
Western) history of engagement with tantric Buddhism shows the same
trend: as soon as esoteric teachings make their way into the marketplace
of ideas and praxis, people will find ways of either employing the services of
adepts or of putting populist versions of the practices into use, regardless of
their own level of skill with the materials. And now, we bend this paper’s
exploration back to examine how these essentially shamanic themes and con-
cerns were carefully retooled in the Indian tradition during the long process
of domesticating tantra for use in monastic settings.
One should never cast the eyes to and fro for no purpose. The gaze should be bent
low as if continually absorbed in meditation.
However, one might occasionally look to the horizon in order to rest the eyes,
and if one notices someone within one’s field of vision, one should look up to greet
them. . . .
It is not desirable to spit out tooth-cleaning sticks and phlegm in public, and it is
also forbidden to urinate and so forth on land or into water that is usable.
One should not eat with a mouth overfull, noisily, nor with mouth wide open.
One should not sit with a leg hanging down, likewise one should not rub both arms
at the same time.45
The above injunctions suggest the level of detail monastic Buddhists were
expected to pay to their daily conduct. The Vinaya, the teachings of the
Buddha regarding the behavior of monks and nuns, lays out such explicit
instructions for most areas of daily life. This passage gives a sense of the level
of discipline and conformity that would be expected of monks in North India
during the time when the siddhas were active and monastic hermeneuts were
incorporating their literary productions into the received Buddhist canon.
The tantric passages cited below will seem all the more shocking in light of
Śāntideva’s instructions to his fellow monks.
Distinctive Buddhist identity in India weakened further with the forma-
tion of communities of Buddhist siddhas (‘‘perfected ones,’’ persons consid-
ered masters of tantric practices). These communities would have closely
resembled non-Buddhist communities following similar practices in addition
to living in ways antithetical to established Buddhist ethical guidelines. The
real danger came when siddhas’ practices found their way into monasteries
of traditional, celibate monks whose virtue made them objects of veneration
and offerings by the laypeople.
We have now reached the proper subject matter of this second section,
with novel practices making their way into the very heart of the Buddhist
tradition. With the rise of Buddhist siddhas and the accommodation of their
practices into the Buddhist textual canon, institutional Buddhism suddenly
found itself validating passages like the following, which not only contradicts
the basic Buddhist ethics of sexual continence and refraining from killing but
which invokes Hindu deities (Brahmā, Śiva, and Visnu) to boot:
Then Vajrapāni, Lord of all the Buddhas, brought forth the Pledge (samaya) of
Brahmā from his own Vajra Body, Speech and Mind:
Whatever actions one performs, fearful and terrible, in the way of Delusion, being
conducive to the enlightenment of a Buddha, it is essentially Vajra-Body.
This passage comes not from some obscure tantra or a marginalized siddha’s
composition but from the Guhyasamāja Tantra, one of the major tantras in
the initial wave of the introduction of Indian Buddhism to Tibet. In fact,
compared to the injunctions in some tantras to consume human flesh during
the course of a given ritual, the quote above seems relatively easy to harmo-
nize with the traditional Buddhist values of compassion and self-restraint. But
compared with Śāntideva’s precise directions against casting the eyes wan-
tonly about, even this relatively tame section from the Guhyasamāja Tantra is
completely shocking in its content and its tenor alike. The discontinuities
between earlier institutional Buddhism (as opposed to the noninstitutional
wandering communities of siddhas) are apparent enough, and later in this
section we will explore several techniques employed by Indian monks to
adapt the new tantras for use in monasteries. However, before we turn to
Indian efforts to harmonize the disjunctions, the philosophical continuities
bear investigation.
things are perpetually in a state of flux, a constant arising and passing away
without even a fundamentally existent substrate.
This well-accepted notion of the insubstantiality of one’s ordinary form of
existence (indeed, of everything an ordinary being can perceive) provided
for some the grounds to rationalize such acts as killing living beings (after all,
there is no inherently existent being there to kill or to do the killing) or
engaging in dubious forms of sexual activity, as well as the grounds to speak
of the radical transformation of one’s ordinary experience of self (if there is
no inherently existent ‘‘I’’ behind my experiences, why should a human form
be any more accurate in expressing ‘‘my’’ reality than some other form?).
The following passage demonstrates this sense of transformative potential and
the explicit connection between that potential and śūnyatā:
the various aggregates of mind and body, but they stopped short of negating the
established existence of those aggregates themselves. Śūnyatā became a cornerstone of
Mahāyāna thought and one basis of the Mahāyānist claim of superiority over earlier
Buddhist systems. Some Buddhist thinkers, feeling that śūnyatā had come perilously
close to nihilism (a claim many systems made regarding especially the Prāsangika
formulation of the doctrine) propounded doctrines that would come to be known as
Yogācāra, emphasizing an all-pervasive and truly established Buddha nature. This sys-
tem in many ways laid the groundwork for the incorporation of tantra into Bud-
dhism. Unfortunately, laying out the details of this centuries-long progression could
easily fill another paper of this length. For a more substantial history of this develop-
ment, please see Snellgrove, Indo-Tibetan Buddhism.
48. ‘‘Here the Lord and Lady are subject and object, mind (yid⳱manas) and ideas
(chos⳱dharmas, ‘‘elements of existence’’), thus representing the concepts of grahaka
(‘dzin-pa, apprehender) and grahya (gzung-ba, apprehended) of the Mind-Only school
[which was related to the Yogācāra school mentioned above].’’ Snellgrove, Indo-
Tibetan Buddhism, 459.
This passage highlights the role that the doctrine of śūnyatā played in the
transition from more traditional Mahāyāna approaches to transformation
toward tantric understandings of transformation. Whereas earlier texts
emphasized the gradual cultivation of an intellectual understanding of śūnyatā
coupled with the patient collection of merit and development of compassion
(bodhicitta), which required several eons of effort, tantric yogis claimed that
their new methods could bring liberation in a single lifetime by means of the
adept’s simply and directly realizing the empty nature of all perceptions. The
practitioner’s experiences, even of her own body and mind, were to be trans-
figured on the spot through identification with a deity or, as in the passage
above, through practice with a mandala.
MAKING THE S HOE FIT
The two tantric passages above illustrate several of the challenges to Buddhist
ethics posed by these new compositions. Indian Buddhist institutions (partic-
ularly the large monastic universities, which were the locus of much of this
integrative work) employed various strategies in order to bring this material
into their fold.50 The first hurdle to overcome was mythological. The wide
[T]he process [of Buddha’s enlightenment under the Bodhi tree] is interrupted . . .
by the Buddhas of the Ten Directions, who arouse him from his composure by snap-
ping their fingers and announcing: ‘‘You cannot become a perfected Buddha just by
this inner composure.’’ Then leaving his physical body on the banks of the Nairanjana
River, they conducted his mind-made body to the Highest heaven, where they
bestowed upon him the preliminary consecrations, followed by the five stages of
Perfect Enlightenment (abhisambodhi) as marked by five formulas of self-consecration.
Thus he became the perfected Buddha, the Great Vairocana, and having taught the
Yoga Tantras on the summit of Mount Meru, he descended to the everyday world,
took possession of his physical body, defeated Māra, the Evil One, and so the earlier
traditional account of his ministry follows.52
TAMING TANTRA
Metaphor was to prove one of the most useful tools at hermeneuts’ disposal
as they massaged tantric materials into more established monastic practice
environments. The metaphorical accommodation runs like this: The tantric
injunctions to kill and/or engage in sexual activity as an element of practice
must be metaphorical, since (obviously) such actions run counter to estab-
lished methods of Buddhist practice. Therefore, one ‘‘kills’’ wrong views in
the mind, and one ‘‘unites with’’ ultimate reality.
Snellgrove offers a classical example of the beginning of this movement as
a sexual ritual’s contents are framed in specifically Buddhist terms, in this case
Tibetan Buddhism, 94–95; for the concern to build mythic narratives to hold new
doctrinal developments, see Davidson, Esoteric Buddhism, 241.
52. Snellgrove, Indo-Tibetan Buddhism, 120–21.
53. Ibid., 121.
Through the union of Wisdom [the female partner] and Means [the vajra master] there
comes the Thought of Enlightenment (bodhicitta), ‘‘produced simultaneously on both
sides’’ . . . and this is identified ritually with the drop of semen (bindu) at the tip of the
vajra (the male organ) as it rests in the lotus (the female organ). It is with this ‘‘drop’’
taken ‘‘from the secret places of Wisdom and Means’’ that the master consecrates his
pupil in the Secret Consecration by placing it on the tip of his tongue. Thus conse-
crated, the pupil may proceed to the next consecration, the Knowledge of Wisdom,
when he knows Wisdom herself by being united with her. He experiences in her
embrace external experience (the external world as defined by the four elements
etc. . . .), which through the ecstatic union becomes reabsorbed into the natural nondual
state of absolute nonduality, as defined in Mahāyāna philosophical concepts.54
Recent apologists for the Buddhist tantras have concentrated on linguistic decon-
struction through the artifice of ‘‘coded language’’ (samdhā/samdhyā/samdhāya-bhāsa),
which had been used by selected commentators to take some of the spice from the
brew. According to this idea, all the language of the tantras is figurative, not literal.
Thus the eros and thanatos of the esoteric scriptures are to be understood as indicative
of a secret coded form of language, referring to internal experiences. The key to such
language was revealed in the esoteric transmission from master to disciple, and only
uninformed outsiders considered that the statements might be simple declarative pro-
nouncements.
Unfortunately, as shown below, the invocation of the various strategies of textual
hermeneutics—of which ‘‘coded language’’ is only one—is highly idiosyncratic and
lacks any uniform method of application. . . . A single section of a tantra may be
taken as literal or variously figurative by different commentators in India (or China,
Tibet, or Japan), even with the same commentator sometimes adopting different
explanations mid-stride. . . . Thus the argument against literalness appears to lose a
degree of force in the absence of hermeneutic unanimity.56
This passage is part of Davidson’s larger argument that these practices began
as literal enactments and were institutionalized via metaphorical interpreta-
tions. His attack on ‘‘the argument against literalness’’ should be read in that
context.
Treating challenging passages from the tantras as metaphorical language
opened the institutional door to a great deal of new material, and monastic
authorities had a simple way to deal with material not sufficiently tamed by this
process: Declare some practices off-limits to monastics. Most texts could be
interpreted and practiced in ways that would enable celibate monastics to keep
their vows (and indeed many Indian monks did—and virtually all Tibetan
monastics do—tantric practice of some sort), with individual teachers and lin-
eages working out their own solutions to controversial issues such as whether
physical intercourse is necessary for full realization in a single lifetime.
This integration of the siddhas’ materials into institutional Indian Bud-
dhism was to form the basis and also the pattern for tantric practice to become
such a vital force in Tibetan culture, both inside and outside the monastery.
On the one hand, Indian hermeneuts’ attempts to wrestle the siddhas’ materi-
als into a form that harmonized with established forms of Buddhism created
a version of established Buddhism, which spoke in a vocabulary resonant
with lay concerns (particularly those concerns that could be addressed
through shamanic practice). On the other hand, this process legitimized
monasteries as vehicles that could transmit esoteric teachings and located sha-
manic forms of practice within the very social structures that would come in
Tibet to be centers of political power in their own right. As Samuel persua-
sively argues, the coupling of a weak central government unable to police
monasteries’ activities and the increasing sociopolitical clout of the monaster-
ies and their lamas combined over the course of the centuries57 to allow
tantric practice to flourish not only in closely held secret transmission lineages
but also in visible, popular forms.58 This paper cannot examine the political
dimensions of the Tibetan integration of Indian Buddhist tantra, but it is
important to note at least in passing that there were strong and unusual politi-
cal forces behind the extraordinary level of accommodation that tantric prac-
tice found in Tibetan society.
F I N A L TH O U G H T S
The first section of this paper explored how Buddhist tantra has addressed lay
concerns by shamanic means from its inception in India and how that orienta-
tion helped the new religion spread into Tibetan society in the late first millen-
nium. The second section traced in greater detail the process by which Indian
monks integrated the new materials into existing institutions. Together, these
two portions of the narrative help to explain why and how esoteric Indian
traditions came to function as the public face of Buddhism in Tibet, a ‘‘secret’’
shared among an entire society. The transmission of Tibetan Buddhism to non-
Tibetan communities offers many living opportunities to explore the popular
appeal of traditions that include occult techniques of a pragmatic and useful
nature, whose widespread appeal is hardly negated by the fact that their own
rhetoric declares them the territory of the elite. In addition, the Tibetan
embrace of tantra offers a centuries-long history affording many opportunities
for exploration of the tensions between the popular appeal of ‘‘esoteric’’ tradi-
tions and the elite nature of their practice at the highest levels. Most other
cultures’ esoteric traditions faced stronger external constraints (often from gov-
ernments affiliated with the hierarchy of exoteric lineages), so the Tibetan situ-
ation provides an apt dialogue partner to the contemporary reception of
esoteric practices (Buddhist or other) in secular societies.
57. Particularly from the mid-ninth century, with the construction of Samye
Monastery and the introduction of the monastic institution to Tibet, to the fifteenth
century, with the spread of the tulku (sprul sku) system which allowed political and
spiritual authority to remain in the reincarnation lineage of a monk held to be an
enlightened master. (Samuel, Civilized Shamans, 494–95)
58. This is the thesis of Samuel’s 2002 Civilized Shamans, and his Part Three,
359ff., addresses this topic in detail.