Thich Tri Quang
(7 of 9)
The Equal Fear. A master of the big lie, Tri Quang had triggered crises against the Khanh, Huong and Quat governments by claiming that the Buddhist faith was in danger—a lie given superficial credence by two abortive Catholic coup attempts. Actually, none of the three regimes were anti-Buddhist. But Tri Quang, convinced that the Buddhists had been cheated, seemed driven by an almost nihilistic desire to destroy national order to achieve his goal of power.
Only the Viet Cong benefited from the turmoil he helped create. By May 1965, Viet Nam was virtually lost. The Vietnamese army's reserves were in tatters, the nation nearly cut in half, the enemy roaming almost at will as Saigon's will to fight was sapped by instability at the center. Only the massive introduction of U.S. troops prevented a Communist takeover. Tri Quang was far from happy at the time to be saved at the last minute by American troops. Said he: "The Americans are exploiters of the anti-Communist struggle. We are against these people."
Illogical? Not to Tri Quang. To him, the West is synonymous with colonialism, Catholic domination, the humiliation of the Buddhist church for a century, the rape of Asia—sentiments shared by many Vietnamese. Though he understands both French and English, he refuses, in a touch of arrant nationalism, to speak anything but Vietnamese. He has traveled outside Viet Nam only once in his life, on a 28-day trip to a Buddhist congress in Japan. Though well aware of what he calls "the destructive forces" in Communism and openly contemptuous of the kept Buddhists in North Viet Nam, he clearly feels that Communism may not be the worst enemy. "The main concern of the Vietnamese," he once explained, stabbing a delicate forefinger into a visitor's chest for emphasis, "is that as much as they fear Communist domination, they have an equal fear of alien domination."
Candy Kisses. In pursuit of his own goal in Viet Nam, Tri Quang has shucked off nearly every other mortal desire. He likes neither ease nor luxury. He is not attracted by colors, painting, women, wine or sensuality of any kind. He is indifferent to food, wears robes of the cheapest cloth. When he travels about in Viet Nam, he carries only a towel and a bar of soap. Other than power, his only weakness is candy, usually Hershey's chocolate kisses.
His room in the maternity clinic is nearly bare save for a Japanese transistor radio and his canvas sleeping cot, ranged alongside the big brass hospital bed. He stays in the clinic because of his recurrent asthma. His room hums with a Kelvinator air conditioner, a taste he acquired during his sojourn in the American Embassy.