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Tibet’s future The limits of despair Five years after an explosion of unrest on the Tibetan plateau, the region is again in crisis. This time the world is looking away Mar 9th 2013 | DHARAMSALA, INDIA AND QINGHAI PROVINCE, CHINA |From the print edition · ·
INSIDE a small monastery in China’s Qinghai province, a red-robed monk looks around to see if he is being watched, then begins sobbing. “We just want the Dalai Lama to come home”, he says. His words echo those of dozens of Tibetans seeking to explain why they have set themselves on fire in public places across the Tibetan plateau in the past two years. Desperation is growing among the Dalai Lama’s followers in China. So, too, is the government’s effort to silence them. Since an outbreak of unrest swept the Tibetan plateau five years ago this month, including anti-Chinese riots in the Tibetan capital Lhasa and protests in numerous towns and monasteries, the party has tried to control Tibetan discontent by means of carrot and stick. The stick has involved tighter policing of monasteries, controls on visits to Lhasa, denunciations of the Dalai Lama and arrests of dissidents. The carrot is visible not far from the crying monk’s monastery: new expressways across the vast grasslands, new roads to remote villages, better housing for monks and restorations to their prayer-halls. Yet the spectacle of more than 100 Tibetans setting themselves alight, mostly in the past two years, in one of the largest such protests in modern political history, suggests that neither approach is working. In this section · The limits of despair Related topics · India Despite, or perhaps because of, intense crackdowns in the affected areas of the Tibetan plateau, the burnings in recent months have spread across a wider area (the plateau is one-third the size of America) and involved more people without links to monasteries. The government’s growing worry is evident in the intense security in the worst-affected areas, mostly in Tibetan-populated parts of the provinces of Sichuan and Qinghai, as well as in Lhasa, the capital of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR). Since last year the government has begun rounding up those deemed to have encouraged Tibetans to burn themselves. Dozens have been detained. Several have been jailed for terms ranging from a few months to life. All of the TAR, as well as trouble spots in neighbouring provinces, are off limits to most foreign journalists. But tension is palpable even in the few areas that remain accessible. During celebrations of the Tibetan new year in late February, at least three fire engines were parked inside Kumbum monastery compound near Xining, the capital of Qinghai. Dozens of police with extinguishers and fire blankets stood among the crowds of pilgrims and holidaymakers. West of Xining in Hainan prefecture, a Tibetan-majority area about the size of Switzerland, no one has been reported to have set themselves on fire. But the authorities are worried. In November hundreds of medical students protested in Gonghe county against the circulation of a government leaflet disparaging the immolators and the Dalai Lama. Residents say the police used tear-gas to break up a demonstration in the county town and arrested several participants. The prefectural authorities called the demonstration “illegal” and demanded that young people in Hainan form a (metaphorical) “wall of copper and rampart of iron against splittism, infiltration and self-immolations”. Though most minority groups live fairly peacefully under Chinese rule (see article), the Tibetans cite many reasons for the renewed unrest: the continuing influx of ethnic-Han migrants (encouraged by huge government investment in transport infrastructure); environmental damage caused by mining and construction; the marginalisation of the Tibetan language in schools. The ageing of the Dalai Lama (he is 77) and his announcement in 2011 that he was retiring as head of Tibet’s government-in-exile in India are also factors. A growing sense that this incarnation of the Dalai Lama might not have much longer is fuelling demands for his return to the land that he fled after a failed uprising in 1959. Too long in exile “[In] this life…service at least in the field of Tibetan struggle now already end”, says the Dalai Lama in his halting English in the Indian town of Dharamsala that is his home. He is now, he says, devoting himself to the promotion of religious harmony and a dialogue between Buddhism and modern science. China is not convinced. Robert Barnett of Columbia University says that in recent weeks Chinese officials have increasingly accused the “Dalai Lama clique” of organising the burnings.
Mr Barnett says it is possible that China will try to defuse the tensions by reopening talks with the Dalai Lama’s representatives. There have been no such meetings since January 2010, when the two sides reached an impasse over differences relating to the envoys’ call for “genuine autonomy” for Tibet, while accepting that it remain part of China. (Other Tibetans in India still want independence, a cause of dispute among the exiles.) Chinese officials denounce even the compromise of autonomy as a scheme for achieving full independence. Among China’s other concerns is a proposal that Tibet be defined as the TAR plus the Tibetan-inhabited areas of neighbouring provinces, an area one quarter the size of China (see map). Sleeping demon The Dalai Lama’s retirement could make a resumption of talks more difficult. In August 2011, after winning an election in which nearly 50,000 Tibetan exiles voted, Lobsang Sangay, a Harvard academic, took over as head of the exiled government and assumed the political role once played by the Dalai Lama (“now demon peacefully sleeping”, the holy man quips, referring to a word he says Chinese officials have used to describe him). Mr Sangay says that China can still hold talks if it wants with the Dalai Lama’s representatives. But those envoys resigned in June, citing the “deteriorating situation” in Tibet and China’s failure to “respond positively” to autonomy proposals. Among the powers Mr Sangay has taken on is the right to appoint the envoys’ successors, who have yet to be chosen. This will make China wary of beginning talks, for fear of conferring legitimacy on the new exile administration. Some Tibetans in India see a glimmer of hope in China’s ten-yearly change of leadership which will be completed with the appointments of Xi Jinping as president and Li Keqiang as prime minister shortly before the end of the annual session of China’s parliament, the National People’s Congress, on March 17th (see article). Mr Xi’s predecessor, Hu Jintao, was party chief in Tibet during an outbreak of unrest in the late 1980s which he resolutely suppressed (just as he suppressed the far bigger eruption in 2008). Mr Xi, goes the thinking, could be different. In the 1950s the Dalai Lama got to know Mr Xi’s late father, Xi Zhongxun, who was one of Mao Zedong’s comrades. The elder Xi received a watch from the Dalai Lama, which he wore long after the flight to India. If the father had a soft spot for the Dalai Lama, optimists think, so might the son. In recent months the birthplace of the Dalai Lama in Hongya village, about 30km (20 miles) south-east of Kumbum monastery, has been given a makeover, though no one is sure why. Despite a crackdown on Dalai Lama worship elsewhere on the plateau, visitors to the grey-walled compound can see photographs of him, as well as a golden throne intended for him to sit on should he ever return. A caretaker says money for the recent improvements (including new bricks and a coat of paint) came from the government. She says foreigners are not allowed inside, but gladly shows around a group of Tibetan pilgrims who have driven hundreds of kilometres to see the site. But exiled officials are unimpressed and the Dalai Lama is cautious. “Better to wait till some concrete things happen, otherwise…some disappointment”, he says with a chuckle. Indeed, disappointment still appears likely. Mr Xi is under little pressure from other countries to change Chinese policy on Tibet. The unrest in 2008 broke out as China was preparing to host the Olympic games. It wanted the event to mark the country’s emergence as an open-minded world power. Despite that, it cracked down hard on the protests, but in a concession to international demands, resumed talks with the Dalai Lama’s representatives less than two months later. Two rounds were held before the games started, but with no obvious progress. Since 2008 the West’s economic malaise has made China even less amenable to foreign persuasion on Tibet. Britain, hoping to reduce China’s prickliness on the issue, announced in October that year that it was abandoning its century-old policy (unique among Western countries) of merely recognising China’s “suzerainty” over the region rather than its sovereignty. It has reaped no obvious reward. Britain’s relations with China were plunged into a prolonged chill by a meeting last May between the Dalai Lama and the British prime minister, David Cameron. Global Times, a Beijing newspaper, said last month that China had “more leverage than Britain” in the two countries’ relations, adding with some justification: “Few countries can afford to really be tough against China.” One nation indivisible Mr Xi faces little pressure from public or elite opinion inside China, other than to maintain a firm grip. Some Chinese intellectuals have questioned whether the government’s heavy-handedness in Tibet will bring about long-lasting stability. A small but seemingly growing number of Han Chinese, the country’s ethnic majority, are attracted by Tibetan Buddhism (Han visitors to Kumbum Monastery thronged around its statues and clasped their hands in prayer during the recent festivities). But concessions to the Dalai Lama on autonomy have little support in China. Few observers expect any relaxation of what seems to be a stepped-up effort to stop Tibetans fleeing to India. Before 2008, 2,000-3,000 a year were doing so. This fell to a few hundred after the unrest that year. A new refugee centre opened in Dharamsala in 2011, with American funding and the capacity for 500 people. In 2012 fewer than 400 escaped. At the beginning of March only two people—a couple from a Tibetan area of Sichuan province—were there. Before they left their village, they had to sign a document saying they would not go to India. For Tibetans, even visiting Lhasa needs a permit. Last year hundreds were detained, some of them for months, after returning from legal trips to India in which they surreptitiously attended teachings by the Dalai Lama in Bodh Gaya, a holy Buddhist site. Heavy security in Tibet, including riot police patrolling the streets of Lhasa, may help prevent another plateau-wide explosion like that of 2008. But the sight of Tibetans setting themselves on fire, and official attempts to denigrate them, are deepening the region’s wounds. Little chance of resolution is in sight. The weeping monk recalls that, after an earthquake in 2010 in Qinghai’s Yushu county, officials asked some victims what they needed. They replied that they just wanted the Dalai Lama back. “They can control us,” the monk says, “but they can’t control our hearts.” 筆者作回答如下： The limits of despair Mar 19th 2013, 14:00
There hadn’t been a hierarchy of state until all tribes was annexed in 627 by Songtsan Gampo, king of “bon chen-po (old-name)”. Then, Chinese centre and Tibet paradoxically either owned friendly relations or disputed direction of border.
In 1253, a Buddhist monk Basba was welcomed by a couple of Kublai khan, the ever-largest Yuan Empire’s utmost. Basba ensured Tibetan affiliation under Chinese center until now. Tsong-khapa established an “Yellow” faction of Buddhism, which Dalai and Panchen Lama held. In 1652, Qing Emperor Shuanzhi met the 5th, ensuring Chinese ownership of Tibet with Dalai’s influence.
The arrest of British mapping officer unveiled conspiracy of colonizing Tibet in the late 19th century. In 1903, British drove military into Tibet for breaking tie between Lhasa and Beijing, forcing the 13th escaping in exile to Mongol. In 1909, Tibetan relation with Qing deteriorated the lowest since Qing held Tibet in 1652. The 13th was forced to exile in India and, after 2 years, strongly had Tibetan expel Qing’s military when Xinhai Revolution succeeded. In 1913, Simla Conference resulted in China’s holding Tibet, weak but remaining.
In 1950, Communist inheriting the territory from the loser, Chiang’s regime, started to liberalize Tibet. With the assistance of Ngapoi Ngawang Jigme, the chief executive of Kashag, Beijing gained the territory of Tibet in accordance with “17 points” in conflict with the thought of the younger 14th Dalai Lama. While meeting Javāharlāl Nehrū in New Delhi, his thought of flee were disclosed and later opposed by China’s late premier Zhou En-lai. Finally just after he finished all tests essential of Buddhist tradition, he escaped to India in 1959.
India allocates Dharmsāla to the exile and sooner the 14th established the exile government. In 1989, the year of Tiananmen Incident, he received Nobel Peace Prize. It escalated the emotion of Tibetan nationalist aspect. Tibetan identity of recognition was prevalently talked of humanitarian, historic orientation, like whether terrain “Great Tibet”, and political principle while the exile still contact Beijing like China ambassador in New Delhi after he abandoned the independence agreeing on “autonomy” in 1988. Since the flee of the 14th, international celebrated like Richard Tiffany Gere and the late Heinrich Harrer, whose story with the younger 14th in Tibet was well-known as 1997’s “Seven Years in Tibet”, gave big support of the 14th. And with Ma Yo-Yo’s sound of violin, Shangri-La which James Hilton called “lost horizon” made the world awake to the focus on respect for the indigenous.
Having reading “The last Dalai Lama”, the world’s first introduction of exile government in 2000 by Lin Zhau-cheng, I know Tibet affairs at my teen ages putting them into my background knowledge of working for Beijing, besides Aung San Suu Kyi’s research, after Chen Shui-bian stepped down. The book contained ideas of Tibetan refugees, about 6 million people, in 1990s about some of what they seek or strive for, with this prominent journalist’s interview with the 14th for several times. Since 1987, “the peace plan of 5 points” and “the suggestion of Strasbourg” have been the norm which the authority negotiated with Beijing or the authority’s basis of international communication. That is to say, the definition of “autonomy” with “freedom” is the key of their chase for future. And it’s a problem when they try touch with Beijing one after another time.
The most critical point is “Great Tibet”, which covers the surroundings as the Economist’s graphics. The terrain is known in global community as Tibetan living widest environment. This also got the negotiation broken. After 2008’s 314 Incident, Tu Qing-lin representing Beijing started the meeting with Lodi Gyari. Before then, Lobsang Sangay, now the premier of the authority, directed talk affairs to Beijing sending representatives since 2002. In other words, Beijing (including me) still emphasized the terrain’s definition belonging to Beijing’s administrative system, but I am inclined to feel there is less willingness to go independence in exile government so I once suggested Li Ke-qiang, now China’s prime minister, of continuing to send lower-level envoy to them since 2011.
In contrast, since Qinghai-Tibetan Railway finished in 2006, Beiing’s Han-inhabitant policy carries out while Hu took the first train along with Mt. Kuanlun. In recent years, Han and the local are few in dispute, but some monks, an anti-Chinese faction different from the overseas exile, debutted immolation in turmoil for several times with religion. Mixed with my fortune-telling, China’s newly-elected president, Xi Jin-ping seen as the phoenix of Kublai khan’s reincarnation– like Alan Dawazhoima’s depiction in her album “Love songs” – always remembers patrimonys legacy of Tibetan whom Xi accompanies with from spring to winter after the predecessor Hu Jing-tao, the reincarnation of Qing Emperor Shuanzhi, one of Manjusri.
Recommended 3 Report Permalink 在3月9日在經濟學者紙本版上即有一篇中共對中國少數民族的社會控制方式討論 How other minorities cope Never say Dai Ethnic minorities treat Communist Party rule in different ways Mar 9th 2013 | MANJINGBAO, YUNNAN PROVINCE |From the print edition
SITTING with his wife and son over a simple home-cooked supper, Ai Khamngen makes a grim prediction. Asked if, over the next 50 years, it is his own Dai minority group or the better-known Tibetans who will preserve their identity, he plumps for the Tibetans. His prediction is laced with irony, because he also describes how the Dai have opted for a subtler approach than the Tibetans. In some ways this has served them well, allowing them to avoid the heavy hands of Chinese security services. But Mr Khamngen remains worried. In this section · Never say Dai Related topics · China China designates 55 official minorities, but only three—Tibetans, Uighurs and Mongols—get much attention abroad, usually over discord with their Han Chinese rulers and neighbours. The other 52 are scattered around the country—south-western China has the largest concentration (see map in article). The Dai number just 1.3m people, living in the far south of Yunnan province, with kinship ties to groups over the border in Myanmar, Laos and Thailand. Privately, Chinese officials say such people rarely make news because they lack a charismatic (read: crafty) figurehead, unlike the Tibetans and their exiled leader, the Dalai Lama. But other forces are at work. One is religion. Many minorities, though Buddhist, are moderate in their observance. Tibetans are more devout and their distinctive form of Buddhism is a central part of their identity (which makes them more “different” from the Han Chinese). Xinjiang’s Uighurs are Muslim and, though many are secular or only moderately observant, religion has been a factor there, too.
The degree of assimilation may be the main reason for Mr Khamngen’s pessimism. Minorities such as the Dai are much more heavily assimilated with the Han than are the Tibetans. A third reason is numbers and the concentration of the population. Some minorities have only a few hundred thousand people. But size is not decisive. There may be 6m Tibetans and 10m Uighurs, but there are 17m Zhuang, 11m Hui and 9m Miao—and few signs of Zhuang, Hui or Miao separatism. The last reason lies in the minorities’ differing strategies for preserving their heritage and identity under pressure from development, Chinese rule and Han migrants. The emperor is far away, and one alternative to wrangling with him (or to pressing for independence) is to avoid or blunt his policies. This does not mean the Dai are satisfied with their treatment. Many bristle at the bastardised versions of their music and dance passed off as authentic folklore at Han-run tourist spots (including their famed water-splashing festival—see picture). They are also worried about the environmental degradation wrought by new rubber-tree plantations. Neither have the Dai renounced confrontation entirely. Mr Khamngen says the trick has been to choose the right time to push back. As Tibet shows, squeaky wheels in China are often treated not only with grease, but also a hammer. For Mr Khamngen the real key to preserving Dai heritage is personal, not political, to be pursued in the home and in the village. He and his wife speak to their son only in the Dai language. When the boy is older, he will follow tradition and spend several years in a monastery. And, if living happily as a Dai proves impossible within China, he will encourage his son to move to Thailand, where he will have more freedom to express his true identity.
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