GUEST POST BY JAM
Ae few weeks ago, I sent Plum Village (PV) centres around the world the results of my open letter: an appeal for better safeguarding measures. Finally, I have taken what may be the last steps in a series of events and traumas that have marked the last two years of my life. Now, I plan to write as much as possible about these experiences, in hope to raise awareness and understanding about spiritual abuse and surviving it. I especially want to help other survivors to feel less alone in their experiences, as that has been one of the hardest aspects of my journey.
In 2024, I was effectively groomed and sexually assaulted by my teacher during my time as an aspirant in PV France. On 4th January 2026, I published videos (full; | summary) that documented my experience. Sharing my story and creating an open letter was my attempt of doing everything I could to prevent future harm in the monasteries and the greater PV community. I had absolute clarity that it was the right thing to do. It was a chance to transform the torment of what I went through into positive change. When sharing, I also held deeply in my heart the people who experienced harm in PV before me and, from what I’ve heard, did not receive adequate care.
The experience of going public is not an easy one. There’s a reason that so many people won’t report abuse to begin with, nevermind go public with their stories, nevermind go public criticising a globally revered institution that has maintained a clean image from any abuse scandals.
It takes a certain fierceness – or stubbornness, depending on your outlook – to do something like this. I’m someone who’s ‘mad’ enough (a term I use with complete endearment) to take on the horrendous emotional labour and make myself vulnerable to the inevitable negative pushback.
I’m in a unique situation with a certain power held in my story, and so I feel compelled to use that power if there’s even the smallest chance it will make a difference. I know others with similar stories can’t or struggle to share their experiences for many valid reasons. So, let me be the one to break the ice in PV. May others find it a little bit easier not having to be the first to blow the whistle. This is an instance of where I can see a silver lining to having experienced so much suicidal ideation in this last year; I am left with a lot less fear. After staring death in the face, I have a lot less to lose.
Even on a larger scale, it feels important that I share my story. Given that PV has none of their previous abuses on public record (none that I could find anyway), many people in the Buddhist world view it as one of the most reputable institutions; maybe even one that is above such scandals. So my story is not just about harm in PV. It shows just how widespread and systemic abuse is in these hierarchical institutions. If it can happen in PV, it can happen anywhere.
It all comes down to power. That’s my interpretation, anyway. Wherever there are power imbalances, there is always potential for abuse. Especially if that power is not named nor actively kept in check. In response to sharing my story, I have seen many responses from people who don’t believe there was a real power imbalance between my teacher and I. Some explicitly saying that they believe PV has no power hierarchies. Of course, this only comes from people who’ve never lived long-term in the monasteries. That belief is a huge part of the collective problem. Abuse can never be dealt with and non-harm cannot be practised unless the topics of power, responsibility, and accountability are examined thoroughly.
One of the most eye-opening aspects in this experience of going public, is being hit with so much projection and defensiveness from the community. My story seems to touch fear in many PV supporters, which then gets redirected at me. Despite that, I must note that the vast majority of responses I have received have been positive. In comparison to survivors from other institutions, I am incredibly lucky to have that experience. However, most people who’ve seen my videos haven’t left any comments, so I’ll never know what the true collective feelings are. But there still were numerous instances of negative responses.
Overall, there are people who do not agree with how I’ve shared or that I shared my story at all. Whether it’s believing that this story is a private matter and it is inconsiderate of me to share such details in the public domain. Or thinking that I’m making the story up. Or hypothesising that because I’m traumatised and ‘mentally unwell’, that I am re-interpreting what happened as abuse when it was really “just an unhealthy relationship”. And many other examples.
It is actually the few extreme negative comments that are easier to brush off, like the troll who left a dozen comments on my video within minutes of publishing it – “What a crock of shiit!!!!!!! How dare you go on utube and post this. Heal your mental illness in private!!!!! This generation overshares and are delusional.” Yet, it is the subtly dismissive comments, especially from people I know and even considered as friends, that feel like a stabbing knife.
There seems to be a very common theme in a lot of ‘western’ spiritual spaces of valuing niceness over truth and justice (this is considered a trait of white supremacy, afterall). This shows up in comments by people that on the surface seem very respectable and polite, but the real content of them is inappropriate, dismissive, and/or harmful. Sometimes, it is what is not said which hits my nervous system like a train. It can be near impossible to confront these subtle instances though, because you are then considered unreasonable and not giving the person the benefit of the doubt when they are ‘just trying their best’. Collectively, we need to learn that having good intentions and saying things in a calm manner doesn’t protect you from hurting others and needing to take accountability.
The most common instance of this that I experienced was people declaring how much compassion they had for the perpetrators (of the original abuse as well as the Dharma Teacher Council and Safeguarding team in their harmful response). They’d emphasise that those people are also suffering. So compassion would be given in equal amounts to the perpetrators and me, or sometimes more would be granted to the perpetrators – just to emphasise the point.
Anyone who’s been through abuse or any kind of oppression (and doesn’t internalise it) will see how messed up this response is. The suffering I’ve been through is not comparable to that of the perpetrators. Suffering which, for the most part, is the consequences of their own harmful actions: karma. Absolutely, you can practise having compassion for all beings. That is indeed what the Buddha taught. But BY GOD, it is deeply unskilful to insist compassion toward people who have harmed directly to the person who was harmed by them. All while you have done nothing to actually care for the harm that happened. That is not compassionate nor wise.
This phenomenon seems particularly vicious within the PV world because a core part of the tradition is about ‘not taking sides’ and ‘not seeing man as the enemy’. These teachings are often used to spiritually bypass harm that has taken place. It is a cowardly way out of having to face the very real pain and actually doing something about it. When someone reports abuse, you can’t just reply with “Kumbaya” thinking that that solves anything. Anything other than ensuring you stay in your comfortable little bubble and probably thinking you’re morally superior for not giving into anger, blaming, or taking sides.
I’ve had multiple people within PV say that they support me, but as soon as I went public, they turned against that. Apparently their support for victims is completely conditional. It seems people just want to think of themselves as supportive. It is super easy just to say, “I support you”, but when it comes to putting it into action, that’s another story. ‘Supportive friends’ told me that how I’ve ‘framed’ my story makes them feel “deeply uncomfortable” or that it’s too “one-sided” or that they don’t agree that I named the perpetrator. In my local Sangha, after I tried to share just one sentence about my experience in a Dharma Sharing space, the facilitators said they wanted to support me but they asked me not to talk about the experience in the Sangha. They didn’t think it was appropriate and they wanted to keep the group as a ‘safe’ space for new members.
If someone reported a traumatic abuse to you, what would a Buddhist response be? Would it be to tell the person to immediately forgive their abuser; to move on and let go; to prioritise getting away from any feelings of pain or discomfort? Or would it be to listen, to show compassion, and to give actual support for whatever it is that the victim needs? Things which require you to sit with the suffering, not avoid it. I thought the answer to this question was obvious, but I have been repeatedly shocked to learn that many people, even those I considered good friends and socially progressive, do not share the same values. So, it fascinates me to understand this seeming incongruity.
If someone were to poke a hole in the ideal image of your spiritual home and community, that has the potential of rattling you to your core. It questions the safety of your refuge, the thing that gives you a sense of belonging and meaning in life. I feel like many of us are desperate to believe in something outside of ourselves that represents the Dharma, purity, and hope. Naturally, many find it easier to dismiss or deny any disruptions to their beliefs than to face a reality that may force you to re-examine core attachments and identities associated with a tradition or teacher. But that is not the Dharma. I am making assumptions here about the people who have responded negatively to my sharing. But it feels true to my own experiences of when I stubbornly defended PV when it was the centre of my world. Which I did even when the institution or community did not respect me or give me the benefit of the doubt in return.
This is a lesson to show us that we mustn’t get attached to the raft, to any institution or teacher. The finger pointing to the moon is not the moon itself. True Dharma goes far beyond any one form. If we lose sight of basic values of compassion, forgiveness, and non-harm in order to ‘protect’ a form – one that is inherently imperfect and impermanent – then what are we doing? What is the point of our practice?
But it takes courage and confidence to not have to rely on an external form to guide us. To truly have faith in our own experience and not in validation from being a part of the herd. For me, I literally had to be on the verge of suicide and riddled with PTSD to even begin to consider letting go of my attachment to PV and all the positive experiences it brought me. It is the only community I have felt belonging in. It is the only environment I have felt sustained contentment in. Many of my most profound spiritual experiences have been in that monastery. It is beyond devastating to even have to consider letting go of that. But now I’m on the other side of it, it breaks my heart to think of how many people, including monastics, compromise parts of themselves in order to stay within PV (or any other unhealthy dynamic) just because it is central to their feeling of worth or belonging.
Even now, I don’t feel that I’ve 100% let go of PV. It’s only after going public that I’ve at least managed to fully admit to myself that having anything to do with PV is not healthy for me. But accepting that this is my reality, that I have to let go of my chosen spiritual community because of the harm that was done to me…, I still don’t know how to accept that injustice.
I’m beyond thankful that I’ve experienced what I call ‘God’ before. I know what that unconditional love and acceptance feels like. No person in power could fully convince me that their disrespect is actually love. Still, when I was an aspirant and when I was being groomed, I desperately wanted to believe in what I was being told: that I was being loved and respected in those dynamics. But I know now that that wasn’t true. My intuition could have told me that from the beginning had I actually listened to it. I truly wish that all of us are able to tap into that deep inner self-love that knows when we are being de-valued and harmed. But it’s a long journey to get to a point of remembering that every day.
I still regularly have moments of self victim-blaming. This was exacerbated by reading so many comments of that nature when I went public. It took a long time to crawl out of the hole of victim blaming and overly defending my abuser. But that hole is still there and is easy to trip back into, even if I now know it’s possible to climb out again. Just reading one comment is enough to send me right back there, bringing up so many doubts:
Was I responsible for what happened? Have I caused harm? Should I have spent more time considering how to give a more fair public testimony, to include every detail? Even though it almost killed me having to look back at everything… Even though the weight of all of it on my shoulders was suffocating me?
I really had to hold myself back from replying to some of those comments.
What helps me the most with this is knowing how common this experience is for survivors and being able to connect with them about it. If anyone reading this is a victim/survivor, please please please reach out and look to connect with people who understand your experience. This has been BY FAR the most healing element of my journey. If there are any PV survivors out there, please contact me through Tenzin or my blog (see below). I will offer any support that I can.
I try my best to take this all as a practice; as an opportunity to find a refuge that lies beneath all forms. That means I have to face the intense grief, anger, and despair that come up… and just allow them to be. Most of the time, I don’t manage. A lot of the time, I’m disabled by the trauma.
It’s important that I don’t underplay or spiritually bypass all of the hell that I have gone through and that will probably be with me for the rest of my life. I am incredibly lucky to even be alive to write this. It is important for people to really understand how harmful this kind of abuse is. As well as the poor responses to reporting it. Many people end up dead because of this harm.
The only reason I’m able to keep living is by holding on to a deeper spiritual belief of the True Dharma – not the one upheld by institutions. Although, my faith is being DEEPLY tested given the numerous betrayals I experienced and how the practice and teachings themselves are now a source of trauma for me. But this forces me to shift through to find what is real, not just what makes me feel superficially comforted or because it is said by someone in a position of authority. What is the kind of Dharma that stays with us when we’re betrayed by our communities? The Dharma that speaks truth even when surrounded by ignorance? The Dharma that the Earth can bear witness to? This is the only Dharma worth pursuing.
I don’t know if I’ve accumulated any ‘negative’ karma from the way in which I have gone public. But it seems that if I can bring substantial positive change, then so be it. I will bear that karma. On top of everything.
After writing this article, I’ve been made aware that PV published a safeguarding policy online just a few weeks after I went public. I have very mixed feelings around it which I hope to write about as well as many other related topics on my blog soon: survivingspiritualabuse.substack.com.
Tibetan Buddhism – Struggling With Diffi·Cult Issues 