China Insists It Should Control Reincarnation of the Dalai Lama

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Picture this: China’s bigwigs, decked out in their finest bureaucratic suits, have decided they’re the ultimate arbiters of who gets to pop back into existence as a Tibetan holy man. Back in 2007, some genius in the State Administration of Religious Affairs scribbled a rule—let’s dub it “Soul Law Numero Cinco”—declaring that only Beijing can greenlight a lama’s encore. These blessed souls get a shiny ID card, like a backstage pass to the afterlife, and when they shuffle off, the government swoops in to handpick the toddler they’ll inhabit next, complete with an official “yep, this is the one” seal.

For the VIP lamas, it’s a full-on spectacle: they round up a gaggle of kids, scribble their names on slips, chuck them into a gaudy “Golden Urn,” and pull a winner like it’s a raffle at a county fair. This whole farce dates back to a Qing emperor in 1792 who thought he’d play puppet master with Tibet’s spiritual lineup. The current Dalai Lama, a sly fox, reckons this urn trick was a rare stunt, maybe twice in his lineage’s history—1838 and 1857—and even then, the old-school vibe of mystic visions usually stole the show. Scholars, though, whisper it was a bit more common back in the day, like a quirky trend from 1793 to 1825, but still mostly a sideshow to the real prophetic hustle.

Fast forward to 2007, and the CCP—folks who’d rather worship a spreadsheet than a deity—decided to resurrect this soul-snatching gig to keep Tibet on a leash. The local buzz was all giggles: an atheist regime playing reincarnation referee? Priceless. Now, the Dalai Lama’s dropped a fresh memoir, “Voice for the Voiceless,” spilling that his next self will dodge China’s grip and pop up in some free corner of the globe—India’s got good odds. His gig, he says, is all about spreading love and leading Tibet’s spirit squad, so why let Beijing’s killjoys crash the party?

Enter Mao Ning, China’s Foreign Ministry loudmouth, who, on March 11, lost her cool. She branded the Dalai Lama a meddling outcast, yammering about “Xizang” being a paradise of happy vibes—total hogwash. She’s adamant: China’s got the rulebook, and it says they’ll hunt down his next body, urn it up, and stamp it official. So, when the old man’s gone, expect a cosmic custody battle: one Dalai Lama, pure and free, versus a Beijing-bred impostor. Bet some cash-soaked Buddhist cliques abroad will kiss the CCP’s ring anyway. China’s afterlife power grab—absurdity level: divine.

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