Unless western proponents of Tibetan liberation wish to be viewed as theocrats or 21st century feudalist sympathizers, they would do well to cease referring to Tenzin Gyatso as the Dalai Lama. Furthermore, if Nancy Pelosi and every other lockstep American sympathizer with Tibetan liberation wish to continue to support the movement, they should demand answers from the ousted spiritual monarch. What exactly is his plan for a free Tibet?

Americans, particularly middle-class and affluent white Americans in their 30s and 40s, have a love affair with Eastern religions. Buddhism in particular gives them yoga, meditation, and crappy drivel pumped out in Oprah’s book club. Eastern spirituality is alluring because it is fundamental escapism from dreary sex lives and irritating children and only involves buying a few books or a yoga mat. Thus, it seems that the prime reason for America’s support of Tibetan liberation comes from a desire to pay back the placid guys in the orange robes for giving the West a reason to sit still and breathe. I say this because there are few (defensible) reasons why Americans should support a return to traditional society in Tibet prior to China’s invasion, regardless of the disastrous policies of Chinese-backed violence and the evisceration of the Cultural Revolution.

If asked, I have little doubt that most Americans would state that if given the chance to lord over an independent Tibet once again, Tenzin Gyatzo would usher in a paradise of liberal democracy. At the very least, when Americans think of China and Tibet, they see Mao’s fat chipmunk face of communism and feel that any liberated Tibet would be a better Tibet. While that point is debatable, what isn’t debatable is the historical precedent of Lama rule in Tibet prior to Mao’s incursion. Despite the new-age eroticism of Tibetan Buddhism and the saintly appearance of Gyatzo, Western democracy is hardly a likely prospect for a future Tibet free from Chinese rule if Gyatzo is allowed to return to power.

If anyone takes the trouble to actually look past the saffron robes and the demure praying hands of the bespectacled Himalayan celebrity, they would see a far different prospect. Prior to the Chinese PLA’s invasion of Tibet in 1950, the majority of the Tibetan population lived and worked as serfs, bound to the land owned by the Tibetan religious and economic aristocracy. If China had not invaded the region, then there seems to be little doubt that the practice of human subjugation would have persisted even longer. Although it occurred under forcible circumstances, this throwback to Medieval feudalism did end, even if it happened 87 years after serfs were freed in Russia and 161 years after feudal dues were abolished in France. Tibetan exiles dispute China’s claim of the extent of serfdom in the region and insist that the country would have modernized without the intervention. Yet, however pervasive the antiquated practice was, it seems unlikely that a geographically-isolated ruling class of monks would have given up their claim to authority without outside prodding. Likewise, it seems unlikely that Gyatzo would renounce his supposed spiritual claim to leadership after he was allowed only a few months of primacy at the age of 15 before the Chinese invaded.

Gyatzo’s plea is not for secularism or liberal democracy, the two bedrock principles of Western democratic success, but for basic independence and “more autonomy for Tibetans to protect their culture.” Unfortunately, Americans tend to equate these ideas together as logical conclusions of modernity, but that prediction is not only problematic, but in this case, almost decidedly false. Along with this culture of men sitting for hours on end contemplating the cosmos, there is also a traditional culture of the Lamas legislating sexuality and morality in addition to dictating economic activity. In a rather twisted perversion of his own desire to be rid of the Chinese, Gyatzo himself has even praised the tenets of Marxism and referred to himself as half-Marxist, half-Buddhist. Given America’s vitriol towards commies, it is baffling that so many people would hurl praise at this man.

American support of Tibetan freedom was borne out of Cold War tensions and as early as the 1950s, America aided weapons smuggling operations into Tibet to resist the communist Chinese occupation. Gyatzo didn’t begin his saintly crusade of nonviolence writ large until the U.S. cut off its operations in Tibet following Nixon’s famous opening of relations with China in 1970. Without the backing of the only democratic superpower that could take on China or the Soviet Union, Gyatzo’s prospects for return to power before his death seemed unlikely. Thus, what better way to receive aid than to appeal to America’s soft spot for primitive pacifists popularized as the answer to their hectic lives?

I am not averse to the idea of Tibetan autonomy. China’s stifling environment of cultural sterilization and isolation of individual expression has been a blight on Asia and cannot persist forever in a global world. Tibetan demonstrations give me hope that the crumbling will occur sooner rather than later. What I am averse to is the support of traditionalist Lama ruling culture in Tibet wherein the reward Tibetans would get for liberation from foreign rule would be a return to subjugation from domestic rule. Any freedom-loving American should be skeptical of any attempt, no matter how saintly in outward appearance, of a literal theocrat’s calls for independence in his former county. No matter how many college students blather inanely about the greatness of the man, I will continue to see serfdom in saffron until Gyatzo convinces me otherwise. And you should too.