...from 'In the Shadow of the Buddha' page 123-124
“You smell like curry spice and Kathmandu’s dust,” the president of the In¬ternational Campaign for Tibet said, handing me a black blazer at Dulles Airport. Though I had not slept for over twenty-four hours, we sped off toward the U.S. Capitol. He had borrowed a pair of shoes from his office’s media director to replace my hiking boots. I changed in the car ride into Washington. He dropped me off a few blocks from the White House, at the massive office buildings that house key policy decision-makers, including the National Security Council and vice president’s office. It was there I met another advocate from the International Campaign for Tibet. We ducked out of the rain and entered a marble lobby.
The first thing that caught my eye was a large emblazoned seal hanging above our heads: a Roman cuirass surrounded by unsheathed swords, crossed bayonets, and other artillery, and a rattlesnake with a scroll unfurling from his fanged mouth that bore the inscription "This We’ll Defend". We were in the former Department of War building. The seal above us is still used today, with its blades and swords—not unlike the wrathful weaponry used in Tibetan Buddhist iconography to symbolize destroying the self-cherishing ego. But what is the difference between common weapons of war and wrathful weapons such as a phurba? The difference lies in the motivation behind their use. The Dalai Lama draws the same conclusion when discussing the use of science.
“Science and technology are powerful tools, but we must decide how best to use them. What matters above all is the motivation that governs the use of science and technology, in which ideally heart and mind are united. . . . Unless the direction of science is guided by a consciously ethical motivation, especially compassion, its effects may fail to bring benefit. They may indeed cause great harm.”
As I stared at the fangs of the snake above my head, I said to my colleague, “Gandhi believed once the venom of war is waged, a policy of an eye for an eye makes everyone blind.”
“Photo ID, sir. Place your bags here,” the bulletproof-vested security officer ordered, bringing me back to the present task.
We were escorted down enormous hallways into the director’s office of the department tasked with affairs in China. My colleague reminded me quietly, “Just present your photos of the prisons and tell them what the Tibetans relayed to you.”
“You smell like curry spice and Kathmandu’s dust,” the president of the In¬ternational Campaign for Tibet said, handing me a black blazer at Dulles Airport. Though I had not slept for over twenty-four hours, we sped off toward the U.S. Capitol. He had borrowed a pair of shoes from his office’s media director to replace my hiking boots. I changed in the car ride into Washington. He dropped me off a few blocks from the White House, at the massive office buildings that house key policy decision-makers, including the National Security Council and vice president’s office. It was there I met another advocate from the International Campaign for Tibet. We ducked out of the rain and entered a marble lobby.
The first thing that caught my eye was a large emblazoned seal hanging above our heads: a Roman cuirass surrounded by unsheathed swords, crossed bayonets, and other artillery, and a rattlesnake with a scroll unfurling from his fanged mouth that bore the inscription "This We’ll Defend". We were in the former Department of War building. The seal above us is still used today, with its blades and swords—not unlike the wrathful weaponry used in Tibetan Buddhist iconography to symbolize destroying the self-cherishing ego. But what is the difference between common weapons of war and wrathful weapons such as a phurba? The difference lies in the motivation behind their use. The Dalai Lama draws the same conclusion when discussing the use of science.
“Science and technology are powerful tools, but we must decide how best to use them. What matters above all is the motivation that governs the use of science and technology, in which ideally heart and mind are united. . . . Unless the direction of science is guided by a consciously ethical motivation, especially compassion, its effects may fail to bring benefit. They may indeed cause great harm.”
As I stared at the fangs of the snake above my head, I said to my colleague, “Gandhi believed once the venom of war is waged, a policy of an eye for an eye makes everyone blind.”
“Photo ID, sir. Place your bags here,” the bulletproof-vested security officer ordered, bringing me back to the present task.
We were escorted down enormous hallways into the director’s office of the department tasked with affairs in China. My colleague reminded me quietly, “Just present your photos of the prisons and tell them what the Tibetans relayed to you.”