Bodhissatva of Compassion: The Dalai Lama and the Convergence of Politics and Religion

Introduction

History is no stranger to the connection between religious and political authority. Whether one chooses to study the vast tomes of European literature or the oracle bones of ancient China, they will inevitably discover a clear link between rulers and the religions their subjects practiced. Multiple European monarchs were declared “Defenders of the Faith” for upholding the virtues of Christian exceptionalism, and although the Venice of today betrays the history of Catholic political coordination, the Papal States often directly influenced the political affairs of most European states whether Catholic or otherwise. Most Chinese rulers derived their power from the “Mandate of Heaven”—a justification both material and divine for the rule of the emperor—which spread in various capacities to additional Asian nation-states like Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. These examples are far from isolated, and they serve as only the most popularly known iterations of this “divine right of kings”. But while the monarchs of the Renaissance or antiquity might have recognized a clearer bridge between religious and political life, most modern states have adopted secular models of governance. Disregarding vocal evangelical or traditionalist voting blocs, most living in the developed world would be shocked to witness presidents, prime ministers, or governors  proclaiming themselves to be representatives of some spiritual presence.

Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule. Iran, officially the Islamic Republic of Iran, is a functional theocracy, having been established by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini as a Shi’ite state. Iran’s constitution begins by lauding the god of Islam, dedicating all that follows from the start to “Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful.” The state of Iran exists, both intentionally and in practice, as an Islamic state, with a criminal justice system influenced heavily by sharia (Islamic) law and an inextricable link between political and religious life. Likewise, the aforementioned Holy See operates in a similarly theocratic manner, with the Pope possessing near-unilateral control of the executive, legislative, and judicial branches ex officio. Although the Vatican City technically operates as an independent, secular entity, its bylaws are almost directly decided by the Pope and the College of Cardinals. In both instances, Iran and the Vatican officially acknowledge the Ayatollah and Pope respectively as holy men who either directly or indirectly commune with the divine. Although these states are rare, they are far from nonexistant. Furthermore, these states often grant extreme power to the highest executive  official, allowing them not only to influence the faithful, but over the administrative system as well.

One of the leading deviations from this trend is the 14th Dalai Lama: Tenzin Gyatso. Born in 1940 shortly before the conclusion of the Chinese civil war, Tenzin has largely lived the life of a refugee, having fled from China in 1959 following the suppression of the Tibetan national uprising in Lhasa and remaining in India ever since. The path of Gyatso’s life has been a winding one, with his aims, goals, and intentions shifting as the political situation in Tibet and China itself has changed. Many know the Dalai Lama as a figure of personal spirituality and religious charity, similar to Mother Theresa in his achievements and contributions. To critics, his writings are commonly associated with the “lukewarm Buddhists” and  “dharma-hoppers” of Western Buddhism, encouraging a lifestyle free of obligation to one’s self or others and prevailing the “self-help book epidemic” of other faux-enlightenment figures like Joel Osteen. Despite this apathetic or outright scathing view of Gyatso, for Tibetan Buddhists and Chinese government officials, the nature of his position as Dalai Lama runs far deeper. In fact, it is quite possible that his life—and more importantly his death—could rock the very foundation of Tibet more than any individual alive today. Questions thus remain: what exactly is the Dalai Lama? Why did he need to flee in 1959, and why has he refused to return to his homeland? What are the political implications of his inevitable demise, for Tibet and elsewhere?

In attempting to answer these questions, and others, I wish to explicitly state that I am neither Buddhist nor Tibetan, and my knowledge of the Dalai Lama and Tibet stem only from self-study. While I source my statements, I acknowledge that there is doubtlessly information which I have missed and cultural dynamics which may go over my head. However, in presenting this topic, I not only aim to educate readers about a niche concept within foreign policy, but also to provide an outsider, third-party account of the Dalai Lama affair.

Life After Death: Reincarnation and the Nature of the Dalai Lama

It is first important to understand the lineage of the Dalai Lama and how his divine nature manifests. Buddhism is, to most, a religion of “undesirable reincarnation”: meaning that individuals are trapped within the cycle of death and rebirth (known as samsara) until they achieve nirvana or spiritual enlightenment. Much of Buddhist scripture revolves around this process of samsara, with the centuries-old Bardo Thodol—known in the West as the Tibetan Book of the Dead—describing how an individual should and must react during death to achieve total enlightenment. Across the Middle East, East Asia, and Oceaniac islands, Buddhism has taken many shapes and forms, with various sects borrowing aspects of Christianity and Islam. Likewise, Buddhism has had a deep influence on the history and development of modern Hinduism, Jainism, and many other Central and South Asian religions, and has itself been influenced by these faiths. For example, the idea of dharma—or a virtuous life—is cited to have originally appeared in Hindu texts but was later adopted by Buddhists to mean following the doctrine of the Buddhist teachers.

Bearing this in mind, the various interpretations of Buddhism mean that certain denominations believe that individuals may consciously choose to continue the cycle of rebirth after achieving enlightenment for the purpose of guiding fellow Buddhists to achieve moksha (freedom from samsara). These tulka (or tulku singular) as they are known are not trapped within the cycle, but instead opt to reincarnate into another person in order to forever distribute their wisdom and understanding of nirvana. When applied to the Dalai Lama, this specifically refers to his status as tulku, a reincarnated host body of the bodhissatva (Buddhist teacher) Avalokiteshvara. Technically, no historically-accepted source confirms that Avalokiteshvara ever truly existed as all writings concerning his (or her in some accounts) life derive from spiritual sources. However, this wealth of textual accounts confirms at least that his status within the Tibetan school of Buddhism—known traditionally as a branch of Vajrayana Buddhism—has been long-revered, with a majority of Tibetan Buddhists accepting the Dalai Lama as the reincarnation of this divine figure. To some then, the nature of this high status might at first appear puzzling. Is Avalokiteshvara a human or god? As such, is the Dalai Lama then a human or god?

When asked whether being perceived as a divine figure was a burden or a blessing, the Dalai Lama responded that “It is very helpful.” This answer reveals a few layers of the Dalai Lama’s importance as both a religious figure and a political leader. On the one hand, given that Avalokiteshvara was an enlightened human who chose to continue samsara, their reincarnation means that the Tibetan authority derives from the material world. Furthermore, with Avalokiteshvara being described as originating from Tibet, this meant the ultimate authority of Tibet could only derive from a Tibetan. On the other hand, because Avalokiteshvara is simultaneously human and a mythical figure with divine background and seemingly-inaccessible levels of enlightenment, this means that the Dalai Lama is unique among modern theocratic figures in that he is essentially the reincarnation of a god. Thus, Tibetan political organization is somewhat similar to the aforementioned Chinese “Mandate of Heaven”. Decrees, policies, or wisdom revealed by the Dalai Lama cannot be questioned because they are officially the ordained words of a divine bodhissatva.

It should be noted that the process for revealing the next Dalai Lama has differed throughout the hundreds of years since the third Dalai Lama’s appointment in 1543. This Dalai Lama, Sonam Gyatso, posthumously appointed two predecessors to be his past lives and officially began the lineage of the Dalai Lama. From Sonam, an esoteric procedure was established, where the Dalai Lama, on his deathbed, would foresee the birthplace of his successor tulku. Traditionally, the dreams, visions, and predictions of other high lamas—that is to say the Dalai Lama’s spiritual and political advisors—additionally influenced this operation. Scholars have long commented on the unique dynastic relationship in the Tibetan case, since unlike elsewhere, the Dalai Lama was not based on genetic lineage. As the Dalai Lama has reflected, the process of choosing a Dalai Lama has an egalitarian and indirectly democratic manner of selection. Although some tulkus have originated from those coincidentally close to the high lamas who would have the final say in choosing the next Dalai Lama, most have come from humble beginnings. All have exhibited varying degrees of administrative competence and interpretation of their role as a governmental figure, and this is owed to all coming from different backgrounds and families.

The Dalai Lama and the CCP

All of this being said, a reader might now competently predict the widespread concern over the inevitable selection of the 15th Dalai Lama following the death of the reigning one. While Tibetans had worried for decades over the future of the Dalai Lama’s succession, the Chinese government made official in 2011 that the monastic process of selection would no longer be officially considered. Only Beijing would have the power to select another Dalai Lama, and any other successor candidates would not be considered. But why has the CCP directed intense attention toward the Dalai Lama’s reincarnation? How has the government justified this action, and how has the 14th Dalai Lama responded? More than anything, is there any substantial evidence to suggest that the Chinese government will follow through with its promises? Or are these simply empty threats that the CCP will allow to turn-over upon the passing of the current Dalai Lama?

First, an understanding of Chinese authority over Tibet is necessary to understand the two entitites’ relationship. China holds a long and arduous history with Tibet, but the modern administration over Tibet began in January, 1950, when the Maoist government—freshly in control of mainland China—declared that it would “liberate” Tibet from the yoke of the Dalai Lama. In fairness, there is worthwhile evidence to suggest that life under the Dalai Lama at this time was not beneficial for many Tibetans. As Sorrell Neuss from The Guardian argues: “feudalism and abuse in Tibetan culture has been conveniently forgotten.” From 1913 up to firm Chinese control over Tibetan affairs in 1951, many sources claim that the Drepung Monestary (the controlling monestary of Tibet) enforced a primitive system of serfdom which placed the Tibetan commoners into servitude for the state. A plethora of documented evidence exists which points to medieval-styled torture practices for those who disobeyed the high lamas, with criminals occassionally having their eyes gouged out or their arms forcibly amputated depending on the severity of the wrongdoing. As such, the arrival of the PLA in Lhasa in 1950 was not received entirely negatively, for although Drepung had raised levies against Chinese forces, many wished to see the government go.

Unfortunately, as current critiques toward Chinese rule reveal, the process of “Hanification”—that is, the ostensible ethnic migration and social change of non-Han Chinese territories—has been far from a net positive. Some credit should be given to the Chinese, as with any authoritarian state, in partially uplifting the conditions of the Tibetan people. At the time of occupation, life-expectancy was only 36 years and over 95% of the population was illiterate. Not only did this create a legitimately-sourced moral obligation to the Chinese, it allowed officials to express the factual shortcomings of the Dalai Lama’s rule. Shortly after its incorporation into the PRC, these failures and others were fixed by educating the population and introducing modern medicine to the region. Industrial development and the construction of novel infrastructure—from hospitals to paved roads—brought unparalleled levels of prosperity to the region. To its credit, China has continued to introduce the amenities and and pleasures of modernity to Tibet. As of 2021, the CCP had even pledged $30 billion USD to the development of a 435 kilometer (roughly 270 mile) long high-speed railway linked to Lhasa across the Tibet region.

But even under the USSR did literacy increase. As with the introduction of most authoritarian rulers—regardless of their race, ideology, or intentions—not all Tibetans gained from the occupation. The first to face drastic change were the Phala nomadic peoples of Western Tibet, who were furthest from Beijing’s grasp and had long enjoyed the freedom of their livelihood. Following an uprising in Lhasa in 1959—which formally drove the Dalai Lama and his supporters into exile—the CCP began a full-scale revision of the Tibetan way of life, including for the pastoral Tibetans of the west. Under the rogre (“mutual aid”) system, poor households—which included nomadic peoples unaccustomed to agriculture—were forced (often under threat of violence) into sedentary units to increase crop yields. This is only a glimpse into the way the CCP has drastically altered the lifestyle of many Tibetans, and not always for a net positive. As late as August, 2021, during a celebration of the CCP’s 70th anniversary of rule over Tibet, Beijing insisted on the Tibetan way of life being discarded to adopt a lifestyle more “Chinese in orientation.”

In practice, the consequences for refusing this “Chinese-oriented” lifestyle have been imprisonment, torture, and even death. One of the more notable victims of this refusal include Choekyi Gyaltsen, the 10th Panchen Lama—another theocratic figure who will be brought up later—who directly opposed Chinese rule. In response, Chinese authorities stripped him of all power, declared him an “enemy of the people of Tibet”, humiliated him (both verbally and physically), and forced him to disavow his faith in a public letter. Similar stories happened to hundreds to thousands of Tibetan Buddhists who refused to renounce their religion and heritage. This treatment has continued up until today, as human rights organizations continue to report a failure on behalf of Chinese officials to uphold freedom of religion, press, movement, and assembly. Materially, Tibetan protestors have repeatedly complained about the frequency of local Beijing-appointed officials simply disregarding Tibetan rights and property. Land-grabs are increasingly common, and numerous reports have surfaced of land being sold away for mining rights without small-scale owners’ permission. These mines have resulted in the desecration of Tibetan land and ecosystems, as improper lithium and gold mining have stripped the land of its former beauty. Clearly, the situation is a complicated one, with a variety of arguments for and against Chinese rule over Tibet.

Based on Prescedent: The Story of the Panchen Lama

What does this all mean for the Dalai Lama? Ultimately, aside from the abuses under the high lamas’ rule in the early-mid 20th century—during which Tenzin Gyatso was only a child and had no official power—it is clear that Chinese rule over Tibet is far from an objective good for all parties. But unfortunately, these reports are far from anything new for those interested in the history of human rights under the CCP. As this article from Helen Davidson at The Guardian makes evident, contemporary concerns over rights abuses in China are not only limited to Tibet, but also to Outer Mongolia, Hong Kong, Xinjiang, and elsewhere. What is it about the Dalai Lama situation that makes it unique?

As stated previously, the biggest fear concerning the Dalai Lama as a political figure for Tibetan Buddhists, and specifically his cycle of reincarnation, is that the CCP is likely to tamper with the results of the process. As Krithika Varagur from Foreign Policy put it in her article “The Coming Fight for the Dalai Lama’s Soul”: “There is no question about this: There will be two candidates for the next Dalai Lama.” Considerations surrounding who exactly will succeed Tenzin Gyatso as Dalai Lama have farther reaching implications than the perception from most Westerners that the position’s opening will not matter in the grand scheme of things. After all, why would Buddhists or Hindus care about the death or abdication of a pope? But it is not only that his death will bring about a time of mourning for many Buddhists, but there is evidence to suggest that the Chinese Communist Party will interfere with the process by proclaiming their “own” Dalai Lama and raising him to support the state and its actions in Tibet.

One of thes best ways to illustrate the likelihood of this is to explain the series of events which surrounded the aforementioned 10th Panchen Lama’s succession following his death in 1989. To digress, the very circumstances surrounding his passing are looked at from some Tibetans with suspicion, as Choekyi Gyaltsen died of a heart attack aged 50 just five days after delivering a speech in which he stated that the “price paid for [Tibet’s] development has been greater than the gains.” Choekyi’s status as Panchen Lama—being the tulku reincarnation of the buddha Amitabha and effectively the second-highest position in the Tibetan Buddhist administration—left a vacuum similar to that which the Dalai Lama might  leave following his passing. As both Choekyi and Tenzin had long feared, two separate Panchen Lamas were discovered in 1995: Gyaincain Norbu and Gedhun Choekyi Nyima.

Gedhun was appointed first by the Dalai Lama as the official successor to Choekyi on May 14th, 1995. In one of the most flagrant examples of CCP corruption, Chinese authorities apprehended Gedhun Nyima and his parents just four days later, citing “concern” that the family might be kidnapped by “Tibetan separatists”. To this day, neither Gedhun Nyima nor his parents have contacted anyone outside of China, nor have they appeared alive in television appearances or documented journals. According to CCP officials, as of 2020, Gedhun is claimed to be living as a “college graduate with a stable job” and has refused to accept his ordained position, arguing that he was never the chosen candidate. Gyaincain—known by his religious name Qoigyijabu—was selected on December 8th, 1995, much to the chagrin of most Tibetans, especially those living abroad. As expected, Gyaincain has repeatedly upheld Beijing’s ideology and statements, condemning an anti-CCP protest in Lhasa in 2010, claiming that it was detrimental to national unity. More recently, Gyaincain expressed pro-socialist sentiment, urging Tibet to “sinicize” in order to modernize by embracing the PRC.

Thus, the story of the Panchen Lama’s succession stands as a bleak indicator of what could be to come for the Dalai Lama. Theories range wildly around the identity and current place of Gedhun Nyima. It is entirely possible that he is alive as the CCP insists, and it is equally possible that he and his family were unfortunately murdered by the government, as is the fate of many political prisoners in China. Some have theorized that, assuming Gedhun is alive, that he is being kept healthy only to deter the Dalai Lama or any other influential Tibetan authorities from proclaiming another Panchen Lama aside from Gyaincain. In the event that a new Panchen Lama was announced, Gedhun could be released to the world, exposing the “falsification” of divine Tibetan authority, and thereby undermining the Buddhist powerbase that exists in Tibet today.

 Concluding Remarks: What is to Come

There is no doubt that the Chinese Communist Party will directly influence and decide the next Dalai Lama. Since Beijing’s promise to retain heavy oversight over the process in 2011, the process of selecting another Dalai Lama is almost guaranteed to be heavily biased in favor of the CCP and the Chinese paradigm. The death of any theocratic figure poses deep, complicated questions for the future of their religious adherents. It is vital to understand that the entire future of an independent—or at least autonomous—Tibet may hang in the very balance should the CCP choose to rig the selection process, as they clearly have previously. The United States must support the self-determination of the Tibetan people, as well as demand freedom or at least the truth behind what happened to Gedhun Nyima. In fighting for the liberation of the Tibetan people from Chinese oversight, and in demanding the inevitable selection of the next Dalai Lama be fair and transparent, there is hope for Tibetan Buddhism to maintain its stability and for Tibetans to regain control over their culture and destiny.

Religious Ideology v. Feminism: How Poland’s Growing Feminist Movement is Challenging the Catholic Church

For centuries, Poland was a patriarchal society defined by the Catholic Church, confining women to traditional roles, with the Church and foreign powers reinforcing women’s subordination to men through cultural traditions and customs. While foreign entities occupied Poland, the Polish Church, seen as the mother of Poland, became the only stability and source of resistance in the country, cementing the idea that to be Polish was to be Catholic. Communist attempts to discredit the Church’s authority increasedthe Church’s popularity, prompting citizens to proclaim their faith and follow the Church as a form of resistance to communist rule. Despite the communist government passing legislation encouraging women to work and to alleviate women’s domestic tasks, Poles’ assertion of Catholicism inhibited any real change in gender roles and relations, as the Catholic doctrine confined women to a motherly, domestic role.

Communism’s attempts to redefine women’s roles from traditional patriarchal roles left a legacy of distrust of feminism, and thus, the feminist movement has been slow to emerge since the fall of communism in the 1980s, when Poland received an influx of Western goods. These goods provided an opportunity to introduce contraceptives into society; however, Pope John Paul II allied with pro-life Poles and introduced Catholic family planning in Poland. The post-communist era reinstated the Church’s authority in society, mandating religion classes in schools and priests as teachers. These classes deteriorated women’s status, encouraging domesticity through their rhetoric. Thus, the Church is the dominant moral authority in Poland, formulating the norms of acceptable behavior in politics and society. The Church has been reasserting its presence in Poland at a time when Poles are becoming less religious, and the Church can still influence political debates, as many politicians try to avoid controversial topics like reproductive rights. Competition for political positions and politicians’ fears of losing power reinforces the Church’s influence in politics. Although the Polish Parliament has passed legislation regarding work and maternity, these laws mostly act as a formality and do not impact day-to-day lives. The vastly influential Church, the main hurdle for feminist and women’s rights movements and organizations, is the root of the lack of and opposition to gender equality and reproductive rights, spreading its ideology through its presence in schools and political debates.

European Union

In 2004, when Poland joined the European Union (EU), many Poles within the feminist community had the idea that EU accession would immediately create equality, quieting the feminist movement during the accession process (1997-2004). This process requires adherence to the acquis communautaire, a common set of rules ensuring values such as human rights, equality, or environmental issues embedded in EU legislation. However, this adherence has not assuaged gender discrimination in Poland, especially in the workforce. EU accession has actually reinvigorated religious rhetoric in politics, associating women with motherhood and the nuclear family. Instead of improving women’s reproductive rights, Poland’s EU accession legitimized Polish laws adhering to pro-life ideology. Additionally, EU governing bodies have limited influence on Polish political parties regarding reproductive rights because, legally, the EU cannot intervene on moral values, including abortion. Many feminists in Polandsay that they thought joining the EU would make a large impact on reproductive rights but that they are now uncertain about the future of reproductive rights because the EU has not drastically improved the situation in Poland.

Since Poland joined the EU, the Polish people’s approval of the EU is increasing, but attitudes toward gender equality have experienced limited change. Up to 87% of Poles, the highest percentage in the EU, do not believe that gender equality is a fundamental right, posing a problem for future feminist or women’s rights movements. Many women are unhappy with the state-sponsored provisions for gender equality, and some women have appealed to European legislative and judicial bodies to try to ensure their rights. The European Court of Human Rights ruled against the Polish State in a case where a Polish woman was unable to receive an abortion even though the law entitled her to do so. Furthermore, the Council of Europe stated that women should legally have access to abortion to ensure safety rather than forcing women to have unsafe illegal abortions; however, the EU is unable to take any legislative action regarding abortion. Women’s organizations use “Europeanization”, or becoming more like Western Europe, as an argument for the improvement of women’s rights and access to safe abortion. Furthermore, many Poles emigrate from Poland and move to other European countries with greater gender equality and more open ideas regarding reproductive rights. Currently Poland is at a crossroads: now that it is a member of the EU, it must legally ensure equal rights and oppose discrimination; however, Poland remains one of the most religiously parochial countries in Europe.

Abortion and Reproductive Rights

Abortion was made legal in Poland in 1956 under the Condition of Permissibility of Abortion Act, which overturned the abortion ban in place since 1932. Women from all over Europe traveled to Poland for abortions from 1956 through 1993, a time when the state subsidized abortion. Polish women saw abortion as a fundamental right; however, the Polish government severely restricted abortions in 1993 when it approved the 1993 Family Planning Act. Since then, abortion in Poland is only legal under three conditions: the pregnancy or prospective birth would endanger the mother’s health or life, the fetus has a high risk determined by using prenatal tests, or the pregnancy was the result of a criminal act. This law was seen as a compromise, merging proposed liberal and conservative bills, but it sparked few pro-abortion grassroots movements. The compromise in 1993 established the current tension surrounding every aspect of women’s reproductive rights, but especially those surrounding abortion in Poland today.

As a result of the abortion ban, Poland has a thriving underground abortion market, with an estimated 80,000 to 200,000 illegal abortions and only 200 legal abortions in Poland each year. An illegal abortion in Poland costs between 2,000 and 5,000 PLN ($493.53-$1,233.82), when the average gross salary in Poland is 2,000 PLN ($493.53). Thus, illegal abortions are restricted to wealthy individuals. Illegal abortions are a lucrative industry in Poland: individuals seeking illegal abortions have nowhere else to turn and therefore doctors performing these procedures can charge any price. Thus, pro-choice movements find it challenging to mobilize doctors to their cause, as they are making so much money in the underground abortion market. Even when a woman is legally allowed to receive an abortion, she faces harassment from pro-life groups, and doctors can enact the “conscience clause” that allows pro-life doctors to refuse abortions on moral grounds. To cement the problem, the Polish government does not enforce the legal right to abortion even though its laws state that women in certain situations have the legal right to an abortion. Poland currently has a de facto abortion ban, as many doctors are unwilling or scared to perform legal abortions because they want to avoid stigma and risk for their hospitals or practices. The Church states that this de facto abortion ban is the current social compromise. However, 74% of Poles would rather keep the current legislation than pass a bill proposing a complete ban on abortions, indicating that the majority of the Polish population is in favor of allowing abortions in certain conditions rather than a de facto or complete legal ban.

Many Polish youth are morally opposed to abortions, mainly due to the Church’s influence through the role of priests in education in public schools, calling the fetus or embryo “conceived life” or “conceived child” as rhetoric to discourage abortion. The Church uses these terms to focus on the fetus rather than the mother, which encourages pro-life supporters to think of abortion as the “civilization of death”. While many Poles view abortion as unacceptable, contraception might seem a rational precaution to take for many women; however, that is not the case in reality. Despite the fact that female contraceptives are legal in Poland, the Church exerts such influence that it can affect the availability of these methods. Additionally, many doctors will refuse to prescribe female contraceptives for moral or cultural reasons. Poles have limited literacy concerning contraceptives and different methods of contraception, and women must have awareness and money to find effective, accessible contraceptives. For example, a monthly pill costs six to ten percent of a monthly minimum wage.  Thus, only the wealthy and those willing to put in an effort to find contraceptives will have a reliable method of contraception (other than condoms), making reproductive rights a class issue in addition to a gender issue.

Having previously rejected a pro-choice bill aiming to liberalize Poland’s abortion laws, on 8 October 2016, the Polish Parliament rejected a proposed bill that would have been a near-total ban on abortions. Although Poland has one of the most restrictive abortion laws in Europe, the proposed bill, backed by the ruling right wing party, PiS, and the Catholic Church, would have criminalized all abortions, punished women with up to five years in prison and assisting doctors liable for prosecution and prison. Polish women received press around the world for their protests, marches, and strikes. Only fifteen percent of Poles opposed the strike, despite Poland having the lowest acceptance of abortion in Europe. Opponents to the complete abortion ban argue that a complete ban would not only deprive women of the choice of what to do with their own bodies but also would allow an underground market to thrive, which would be dangerous and encourage abortion-seeking Poles to get abortions abroad. Additional criticisms include that women suffering miscarriages could be under criminal suspicion and that the bill would discourage doctors from conducting routine procedures on pregnant women for fear of being accused of facilitating abortion. Women opposing the proposed bill argued that the complete ban was against fundamental reproductive and human rights, threatening to women’s safety and dignity. Both supporters and critics of the bill are unhappy with the current situation of reproductive rights in Poland, leaving the debate at a stalemate.

Conclusion

Poland’s debate itself lacks many key aspects needed to grant women their reproductive rights. There are many aspects of reproductive rights, such as sexual education, access to contraceptives, and hospital conditions (especially maternity wards); however, Poland’s reproductive rights debate focuses on abortion, disregarding larger issues and multiple aspects of reproductive rights. Furthermore, Polish legal language limits social and political discourse for improving reproductive rights because there is no term for reproductive rightsthat is defined as ‘protection of reproductive health and self-determination in reproductive matters.’ In order to make progress on these issues, this crucial term must be defined in order to have meaningful discourse regarding women’s agency.

There are 150-200 women’s groups in Poland, most of which advocate for political and reproductive rights with some intervening in other areas like socio-economic rights. Many women want to have children, but limited access to the labor market inhibits their ability to care for any children they may have. Thus, a solution to this problem is to clear any restrictions women have to the labor market, such as the pay gap, employer gender discrimination, and ideas of domesticity for women, although this would take many years to achieve. Polish feminist movements are actively trying to alter laws, so changing labor restrictions for women is well within these organizations’ goals. To change laws, however, pro-choice women must gain representation in Poland’s political bodies. The main opponent to women’s rights is the Church: the Church claims to protect women’s rights, although many feminists define themselves as Catholic. Much of the debate about Polish feminism concerns how to define it rather than on advocating important women’s issues and grounding these issues in the Polish context. Growing feminist groups and organizations are slowly starting to engage women in projects or activities that increase participation, but this engagement needs to improve. Women need to advocate for themselves and convince other men to advocate for them; however, without a large movement promoting gender equality, Poland will achieve little progress in the area of women’s and reproductive rights.

However, the presence of the Church in Poland creates a difficult atmosphere to obtaining gender equality and reproductive rights in comparison to many secular countries also experiencing a push for equal rights and reproductive rights. To combat these religious ideas confining women to “traditional” or domestic roles will have a few steps. The first step consists of understanding the Church’s rhetoric and rationale concerning their positions on women’s rights and reproductive rights. The second step would be to use the Church’s own rhetoric to push back and argue for gender equality and reproductive rights, starting with less controversial issues and moving onto those issues once the movement has momentum and support. Although these steps are not perfect, they roughly outline the process feminist movements must take in order to combat the rhetoric of the Catholic Church.

The Way: Religion as a Path for Postcolonial Identity Creation

As populations emerge from the fires of colonial oppression, alone and newly independent, they are left to make sense of the ashes with fires lit by imperialists still burning. Very often, groups embark on the journey to claiming their postcolonial identity devoid of any organized efforts to undo some of the strife that colonizers wrought. This juxtaposes nations on the cliff’s edge, scrabbling to find some foothold, from which they can begin to push back up the slope. The road to identity creation that emerges from this tumult is a long and twisting one, which nearly all postcolonial nations and populations arising out of colonization endure in an effort to renarrativize the legacies of colonization. There exist paths through which positive identity creation can be facilitated, but those paths can be confounded by convenient pitfalls of identity creation which target or repress portions of the population with the society’s newly invested power. One route to this positive identity creation can be reverting to or reclaiming a prior religious identity, which sees success due to its transferrable nature and its strong moral backbone.

Using a religious identity to unite people and create an idiosyncratic cultural identity marks a stark contrast to instances of traditions which spontaneously arose out of the identity vacuum left by vacating colonizers. One such case manifests in the emergence of bride kidnapping in Kyrgyzstan, which demarcates a deft lunge at formulating some sense of national identity. Instead of revitalizing some portion of identity which may have been previously castoff, in cases such as Kyrgyzstan, inhabitants create a united identity through the propagation of an invented tradition. Members of the populace can ignore any collateral damage caused by the tradition such as the threats it poses to women’s education in Kyrgyzstan in lieu of protecting this new artificial practice. Professor Simon Gikandi quotes author Chinua Achebe to say that “most of the problems we see in our politics derive from the moment when we lost our initiative to other people, to colonizers.” Indeed, in many cases where colonizers were able to supplant preexisting identities with a colonial identity, it is difficult for populations to find an on-ramp on the road towards modern identity creation. One way in which countries and cultures can make an effort to take their initiative back and create a positive postcolonial identity is through the use of religion, for religions are accompanied by moral structures that dissuade .

Identities can be created through many means, for the imperative is created once colonizers have withdrawn to unify nations and push forward together. The departure of a domineering power leaves a void that must be filled. An identity must be created on or around some unifying concept. As highlighted by Professor Roger Keesing, it is superfluous whether the concept that a group’s new identity is oriented by is ‘real’ or not, because its purpose is simply to distance the population from the legacy of the colonizer. The substance veiled behind the larger separation is extraneous to the end goal of the process of identity creation. Yet, this indifference to foundation is not without its dangers; it can allow avenues for identity creation that have no historical backing and complacently target subsets of the population. Gikandi summarizes another scholar Frantz Fanon to elucidate that the creation of new separate identities restores “…dignity to…peoples, describes and justifies, and praises ‘the action through which that people has created itself and keeps itself in existence.’” Thus, it is important that the nuanced process of identity formation is done in a way that is conducive towards the formation of positive and inclusive postcolonial society. These newly created identities place their aspirants at a crossroads, between the different identities they have lived during different parts of their lives. In this confusing place, it is important to create a shared identity that is easily accessible so that all of society can move out of the shadow of colonization together. It is an easy derailment for identities to have certain exclusivities or specifically ostracize some groups, because that is one way to find commonality. Yet, it is of tantamount importance that any identity creation can be shared across an entire population so that a nation can assume its postcolonial identity.

A moral structure can serve as an important aspect of positive identity creation, which can often be found in religious structures. It is suggested that value is socially created, and thus what we value is a resultant of our socially created identities. Thus, in the creation of a group identity, it is important to have a moral structure that creates common moral values, so that those values are adhered to as the new identity forms. There can be societies who undergo drastic shifts in moral structures, but the imposition of a moral structure that is not common can have large ramifications. Religious structures often come with moral structures such as these, and can thusly serve as a positive compass to orient identity creation by.

All across Asia, religion has served as a tool for cultures to undertake identity reclamation and renarrativization. Religion can provide a structure to organize the new identity by, complete with its own moral guide stones to keep aspirants on course. Faiths throughout nearly every example have some larger moral structuring principles, telling followers what actions were permissible and what was to be eschewed. It also creates a unifying universal identity that can allow countries to take something that may have initially been imposed by colonizers and surpass this to join into the larger identity. Indeed, religious identity structures have also been shown to help spur increased social mobilization throughout South East Asia, which is key for societies recovering from trauma. Churches can also serve as a platform and catalyst for the creation of hybridity and facilitate cultural encounters. By involving populations all across the planet in the name of a single faith, churches can allow for the intermingling of populations possibly even previously in conflict with one another. Introducing aspects of hybridity into newly forming national identities can help to defer any tendencies towards hyper-nationalism, tendencies that may fan the flames of internal divisions and result in the targeting of a specific sect.

The final facet of religion that makes it a positive tool for postcolonial states is that it is entirely transferrable. No matter where someone is on the planet, their religion and the basic ways in which it is practiced are unified. In the case of the Hindu population on Portugal, all of its members can carry their religion with them as a way of maintaining their unique and separate identity. Faith can also be altered to fit the needs of the population it serves in relation to the identity it plays a part in. The Khojas of South Asia have had to change aspects of their faith to fit a need for a resilient identity, and these changes, as explained by researcher Inês Lourenço, are not “…in any case are not ultimately of great significance for a group that doctrinally considers the esoteric dimension of faith more significant than the exoteric.” Similarly, the Ghazal hymns of the Himalayas have been adapted and modernized to fit the same organizing moral structure that they were created out of to modern pop-music tastes. Just as a religious identity can help to give freshly born identities a bulwark to withstand the travails of a disparate populace, it can help to bridge the gaps between the desire to formulate a unique identity with encroaching modern global influences. With such significant evidence pointing towards the benefits of religion as a tool for identity creation, it is no wonder that one can observe Tengrism reemerging in Mongolia and a resurgence in Islamic movements all across the region.

Obstacles in the way of creating a new national identity arise out of the fact that there are no guiding lights to illuminate the path for positive methods of identity formation. Identity creation has a unified goal, as highlighted by Professor Keesing: “That is, colonized peoples have distanced themselves…from the culture of domination, selecting and shaping and celebrating the elements of their own traditions that most strikingly differentiate them from Europeans.” Yet, simply denoting that the goal of identity creation is to differentiate one’s self from European colonizers is hardly helpful, for there are numerous ways to drive a wedge between one’s own identity and one’s colonizer’s.

In Zimbabwe, the ZANU-PF exploited underlying national sentiments lusting for a new renarrativized identity to create a nationalist identity that gave their ruling party an “exclusive postcolonial legitimacy to rule,” as explained by Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni. By turning the emotional tension of voters seeking an identity change, ZANU-PF was able to insert chauvinism into the new national identity and solidify their hold on power.

Other attempts to undo the pain of colonialism, such as land reparation or reclamation attempts in Australia and South Africa, where even though efforts were made to make recompense for the theft of ancestral homelands, ineffective implementation and a lack or orienting concept made both efforts ultimate failures. In the instances where people were given land or money, they were still left without the separation they sought from the colonizing power. There was no group identity that could spawn out of the poorly administered reparations, and thus the reparations without any orienting structure proved to be of little help on the long path towards postcolonial identity creation. Even when there are attempts made to formulate or reclaim a cultural identity, the efforts are not always grounded on a sound foundation.

The primary example that scholars can turn to illustrate the dangers of identity creation is the invention of the supposed tradition of ‘bride kidnapping’ in Kyrgyzstan, which blurs the lines of consent, inhibits education, and disenfranchises a significant portion of the population. What is especially important to note is that this tradition is pure invention: the populous wanted to separate from the colonizer, yet this tradition had never existed previously outside of ambiguous references from hundreds of years prior. Vested with a lust for a new identity, but left without any predetermined foundation to start creating that identity from, states can become derailed by lackadaisical efforts that target some subset of the population in order to unify the majority. Thus, we can see that not only is having an orienting principle important to identity creation, but also the choice of principle is equally key.

Religion can serve as a funnel, pushing societies that are renarrativizing their identities towards an ultimately positive end result through their inherent moral structure and their transferrable and alterable characteristics. As identity is created, it is important to adhere to a moral structure so that chauvinism or discrimination do not hijack the process. As nations continue to cast of their colonial bonds, we should not be surprised if we see an uptick in alternative or reemerging religious movements. With it’s transferrable universal character, strong moral mettle, and its propensity to grow and change with its devotees, while religion is not a panacea to the travails of postcolonial identity creation, it is certainly a strong and defensible foothold.