not like this idea at all and immediately dissociated themselves from the agriculturalists by traveling separately.
Instead of going to Tibet and western China, the areas that earlier were so dear to his heart, the painter now rushed to northeastern China: Manchuria and Inner Mongolia. Why such a sudden change of itinerary? At i rst glance this choice did not make much sense, but if we look closely at the geopolitical situation in northeastern China at that time, all pieces of the puzzle fall in place.
h e death of the Dalai Lama was surely an important occult sign. Yet there was no popular turmoil and discontent in Tibet at that time. At the same time, Manchuria, Chinese (Inner) Mongolia, and Red Mongolia were all on i re. In 1931, Japan, a rising imperialist giant, suddenly invaded China and occupied the northeastern part (Manchuria). From there, Japan now threatened the Soviet Far East, Mongolia, and central China, reviving in the Mongols’ hearts hopes of liberation from the Chinese settlers and indigenous Bolsheviks who now crusaded against Tibetan Buddhism. In an apparent gesture of goodwill, Japan stimulated these hope by setting up for the Mongols an autonomous region within Manchuria called Hsingan. Meanwhile, in 1929, the Soviets and their indigenous fellow travelers stopped courting lamas in Mongolia and unleashed merciless attacks against these former allies. Many monasteries were shut down, their properties coni scated, and lamas along with the rest of the nomads forced onto collective farms. A spontaneous rebellion of common Mongol shepherds and lamas against this assault began in 1931 simultaneously with Japan’s invasion of Manchuria. Red Russia faced a real risk of losing Mongolia to Japan, and the Far East quickly became one of Stalin’s major security concerns.
As they always did in times of great troubles, the Mongols tried to empower themselves with familiar prophecies. Rebellious lamas looked at the advancing Japanese army as legions of the legendary Shambhala king i nally coming to deliver them from misery. 42 h e venerated Panchen Lama added his voice to these sentiments: “h e happiness will
come from the East. Japanese and Mongols are people of the same kin, 209
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and Mongols should worship the Japanese emperor. One needs to struggle against the Red menace.” Samdin, a Mongol Comintern spy who was hanging around the runaway Tibetan abbot, alerted his Moscow bosses that it was the i rst time Panchen brought up the Japanese in his talks, which was dangerous. Soon word spread all over Red Mongolia that the Panchen Lama himself would come and lead the Mongols in a war against the Red ini dels. Although he did not provide any practical help to the rebels, his spiritual presence was powerful enough to arouse concerns. h e Panchen Lama was traveling back and forth along the southern border of Mongolia, initiating nomads into the ranks of Shambhala warriors. h e same Comintern agent worriedly reported,
“h e Panchen Lama spreads around holy prophecies, which speak of the holy yellow war of Shambhala.” 43 h e talk about the Shambhala holy war disturbed not only the Bolsheviks, but also Chinese settlers who had seized nomads’ lands in Inner Mongolia and now had to face their wrath.
h is was the explosive situation that Roerich craved to step into, and word about the coming Shambhala war in and around Mongolia was welcome news for him. Again it was time to set in motion the Great Plan: “Imagine, suddenly an invincible Mongolian army shows up and begins to win and to act—amazing!” 44 If successful in Manchuria and Red Mongolia, the painter could easily make an alliance with Japan and, drawing the Panchen Lama to his side, advance northward to Siberia and then southwest to Tibet. While dreaming about riding the Mongol revolts against the Bolsheviks and the Chinese, Roerich also planned to tap into the manpower of thousands of White Russian émigrés who resided in eastern China by of ering as a spiritual role model St. Sergius of Radonezh, a medieval Russian Christian saint and patron of the military. h e irony of the situation was that this saint had spiritually mobilized the Russian princes against the Mongol yoke. But the painter never mentioned this uncomfortable fact.
As usual, Roerich imagined himself as the head of the whole movement. On one of his canvases, he portrayed himself as St. Sergius 210
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Figure 8.7 Nicholas Roerich’s image of himself as St. Serguis the Builder in charge of a mighty army and under protection of the all-seeing eye of Master Morya.
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surrounded by an army of warriors with spears ready for an attack. h e painting also shows the face of Jesus Christ at the feet of the saint and the familiar all-seeing eye of the Great Architect of the Universe, an image borrowed from Freemasonry. Moreover, in talks with his American associates Roerich began to talk openly about himself as leader of the future Asiatic theocracy. If other painters, musicians, and humanities professors could be politicians and even heads of states, the painter remarked, he could be too. 45
Helena fed these ambitions by constantly saying that it was a time of the assertive politician, pointing out that all over Asia, Europe, and even in the United States people were opting for strong-willed leaders.
Observing the megalomaniacal dreams of his friend, George Grebenstchikof , Roerich’s expert on Siberia, now cautiously stepped aside, refusing to back up a new geopolitical venture. In fact, the writer could not resist making fun of the painter in his poem about the false tsar Dmitri, a seventeenth-century pretender who, backed up by a Polish king, tried to claim the Russian throne. Roerich was so angry that he excluded Grebenstchikof from his inner circle.
Yet, as during his journey to Tibet, troubles pursued the Shambhala warrior from the very beginning. In August 1934, on their way to Manchuria, the painter and his son stopped in Japan. h ere, without any of-i cial credentials, the painter began to act as a high American dignitary, meeting the Japanese secretary of war and praising him for the job the Japanese occupation army was doing in China. h ree years earlier, the United States had condemned Japan for invading China, and Roerich’s behavior now looked very embarrassing. Roerich, who did not like that the United States favored China over Japan, viewed the Land of the Rising Sun as a positive force because it backed up the Mongols.
As soon as the botanical expedition stepped on Chinese soil, George Roerich got in touch with a representative of the Panchen Lama. But, surrounded by a tight ring of intelligence agents from various countries, the spiritual leader of Tibet exercised extra caution and again refused to get involved in any grand scheme or conspiracy. Accompanied 212
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by several armed guards recruited from the ranks of Russian émigrés, the Roeriches then made a blitz visit to Manchurian Mongols right on the border with Red Mongolia, mingling with local princes and lamas.
From Manchuria, Roerich and his son drove to Inner Mongolia, where they met Teh Wang, leader of the Mongol national liberation movement against the Chinese, promising him American support—another reckless step that further raised the eyebrows of U.S. diplomats in China and Japan.
En route, George kept a detailed diary, which seems more of a military journal than travel notes. He carefully scanned the topography of places they visited, measured hills and distances between various sites and towns, noted major intersections, and provided detailed information about the Japanese military transportation system, the movement of Japanese troops, and the plan of Teh Wang’s headquarters. In short, this was a blueprint for developing future defensive and of ensive plans. 46
Figure 8.8 Nicholas and George Roerich during their “botanical expedition” to China with an occult spin. Manchuria–Inner Mongolia, 1934–35.
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Simultaneously, at a monastery press in Inner Mongolia, Roerich had his brief biography printed in Mongolian to be distributed among local lamas. Again, as during his abortive Tibetan venture, the goal was to build up his image as the divine messenger of a new era with links to the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. h is silly text i lled with praises for the painter was written in 1926 by Tseveen Jamtsarano, a former cultural leader of Red Mongolia who befriended the Roeriches during their long stay in Urga in 1926. Jamtsarano, a Bolshevik fellow traveler, who, like Roerich, toyed with the idea of marrying Buddhism and Communism, endorsed the painter as a new Asian messiah: “Spreading all over the world, the name of the great Teacher Roerich, became the greatest in all countries. In future, if trouble happens somewhere, he will teach us and light our path.” 47
Besides this spiritual propaganda, the Roeriches explored Buddhist manuscripts in the monasteries they visited and collected samples of herbs used in Tibetan medicine. With such an intensive geopolitical, cultural, and medicinal agenda, there was hardly any time let for drought-resistant plants. During the sixteen months of their expedition, the Roeriches were able to produce specimens of only twenty plants, whereas the two botanists sent by the Department of Agriculture brought home more than two thousand plant samples, including 726
soil-conserving grasses. 48
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Red tide: a brownish-red discoloration of marine waters that is lethal to i sh.
—Random House Dictionary of English Language
Epilogue:
The End of Red Shambhala
Roerich’s careless steps and his megalomaniacal taste for adventure again backi red. First of all, he was noticed by the Japanese intelligence service and put on their close-watch list. Spies from the Land of the Rising Sun tried to i gure out whom the painter worked for.
Was he an American or Russian agent? In fact, the Japanese had been monitoring him on and of since the mid-1920s, reading his correspondence to his brother Vladimir, who had settled in Harbin in eastern China at er escaping from the Bolsheviks.
Despite Nicholas Roerich’s warm gestures to Tokyo supporting Mongol independence, the Japanese did not trust the painter. h ey became
alarmed when during his side trip to Harbin, a port city that accommodated thousands of White Russian refugees, Roerich suddenly began acting as the future leader of the entire Russian émigré community. h e Japanese were especially mad at the painter for speaking harshly against Konstantin Rodzaevsky, head of the Harbin-based Russian Fascist Party, whom Japanese intelligence was grooming as the chief of all Whites.
