By Tashi Rabgey and Tseten Wangchuk Sharlho
For the East-West Center Washington
In September 2002, an official envoy of the Dalai Lama arrived in Beijing to take part in what has become the most serious round of Sino-Tibetan talks since the early 1980s. Since then the envoy has undertaken two further trips to meet with counterparts in China. In a formal statement following the third visit of September 2004, special envoy Lodi Gyari described the proceedings of the meetings as "the most extensive and serious exchange of views" between the parties to date. But while the exiled Tibetan leadership has sought to characterize the recent exchanges as serious talks, Beijing has yet to acknowledge that discussions with representatives of the Dalai Lama are even taking place. Indeed, the Dalai Lama himself still remains conspicuously persona non grata in China and the mere possession of his image is deemed a political offence across the Tibetan plateau. These contradictions have raised concerns about the intentions and motivations behind the current dialogue process. What is the political significance and implications of the latest Sino-Tibetan discussions? How and why was the acrimonious standoff of the 1990s suddenly brought to an end? To what extent has the new initiative revised the prospects for a negotiated settlement to the longstanding dispute?
This paper seeks to address these questions through an analytical account of the dynamics of the Sino-Tibetan dialogue process. The inquiry begins by providing a reappraisal of the relationship between Beijing and the Dalai Lama from the early years of the reform era through the protracted stalemate of the 1990s to the current phase of experimentation with direct contacts. After formal talks faltered in the early 1980s, the Tibetan government-in-exile began a systematic campaign for international support to open negotiations with Beijing. The public interaction between the two parties subsequently declined into a long and often formulaic exchange of offers, counter-offers and not infrequently, recriminations. Then, during the Sino-U.S. summit of June 1998, Jiang Zemin publicly disclosed that the Chinese leadership had already established channels of communication with the Dalai Lama. By 2001, a new round of talks had begun.
By tracing the roots and trajectory of a process that proceeded uneasily in fits and starts over more than two decades, this study draws on lessons from the past to illuminate our understanding of the most recent round of discussions. On the basis of this account, we suggest that the specific dynamics of the intermittent dialogue can only be fully understood within the wider context of China’s underlying political environment. In the second half of this paper, we seek to provide a framework for understanding the recent developments by surveying the major factors that are likely to impact the dynamics of the ongoing engagement. Through this inquiry, we provide an assessment of the current prospects for negotiations toward a lasting settlement of the Sino-Tibetan dispute.
Deng’s Initiative
The death of Mao in 1976 opened the door to a new era in relations between Beijing and the exiled Tibetan leadership.1 Soon after his emergence as paramount leader, Deng Xiaoping set new dynamics in motion by signaling an interest in normalizing relations with the Dalai Lama. Following the release and rehabilitation of former Tibetan officials, prominent figures such as the Panchen Lama began publicly announcing that the Dalai Lama’s return would be welcomed by Beijing. By late 1978, Deng initiated contact with Tibetan exiles and began an exchange that would give new shape to the Sino-Tibetan dispute. Through representatives in Hong Kong, a unilateral gesture toward reconciliation was made by inviting the Dalai Lama’s elder brother Gyalo Dondup to Beijing. In their subsequent meeting of March 1979, Deng indicated a serious interest in opening talks with the exiled Tibetan leader by agreeing to allow fact-finding missions from Dharamsala to investigate the conditions in Tibet firsthand. In these first heady days of Deng’s leadership, it seemed that the discussion of anything short of Tibet’s political status might be possible.2 Given the remarkable political resolve signaled by Deng’s initiative, why then did the talks of the early 1980s fail to lead to substantive dialogue between Beijing and the Dalai Lama?
No doubt Deng’s initial offer of engagement demonstrated an unambiguous interest in normalizing relations with the Dalai Lama. But however promising this initiative might have appeared on the surface, it soon became apparent that there was in fact little basis for substantive talks at this early stage. The gap in expectations between the two parties was too wide to contemplate serious dialogue. For Beijing’s part, the boldness of the new Tibet policy had been founded on a miscalculation of China’s stakes in engagement with the exiled Tibetan leadership. The Chinese leadership was concerned in part to bring to an end the Dalai Lama’s rogue existence in exile and to enhance the legitimacy of Chinese rule in Tibet. But the decision to court the exiled Tibetan leadership was also prompted by strategic considerations. In particular, the Chinese sought to preempt the possibility of the Dalai Lama falling under the Soviet Union’s influence.3 Indeed, there is evidence that Beijing perceived a military threat from special forces believed to be under the Dalai Lama’s command, and backed by India and the Soviet Union (Takla 1995:141). The Dalai Lama’s return to the fold was thus seen in Beijing as potentially accruing strategic benefits to China while entailing little, if any, political costs.
In an important respect, Deng’s effort to mend relations with the Dalai Lama was also part of a wider campaign underway to rehabilitate fallen political figures and to normalize political life in China. Underlying this effort was the assumption that the ills of contemporary China had been wrought by the excesses of Mao’s leftist policies. With the passing of that era, it seemed reasonable from Beijing’s standpoint to expect that the exiled Tibetan leader could be persuaded to return to the posts he had held in the 1950s. This, however, underestimated the consequences of twenty years of political exile. Within the exiled Tibetan constituency, the 1950s political consensus had been entirely discredited, either because of the condition of duress under which it had been secured, or because of its fundamental breach as the 1950s wore on, culminating in the 1959 Tibetan uprising. With the hardening of this Tibetan viewpoint over the course of two decades of isolation from China, it was no longer feasible for the exiled leadership to construe a return to a 1950s-style framework as any kind of political achievement. Their mutual insularity thus rendered both Beijing and the Tibetan exiles incapable of understanding the contexts and constraints within which their respective counterparts were caught.
Not only did the Chinese leadership miscalculate the political sentiments of the Tibetan exiles, they also fundamentally misunderstood the political conditions inside Tibet itself. The extent to which they failed to appreciate the domestic circumstances was pointedly demonstrated by the unexpected outcome of the Dharamsala fact-finding missions. Confident in the effectiveness of their rule in Tibet, the Chinese leadership agreed to open the doors to four Tibetan delegations from India. As a signal of their flexibility at this early point, the Chinese accommodated not only demands regarding the itinerary and composition of the delegation, but also the unwillingness of Tibetan exiles to travel on overseas Chinese passports. Confident in their success in transforming the region, Chinese officials were more concerned about the possibility of open displays of hostility against the Dalai Lama’s representatives during the course of the visits. Local Tibetans were thus instructedto restrain themselves from physically attacking the visiting exiles.4 Beijing was consequently caught off-guard when the first of the exiled delegates arrived in the summer of 1979 only to be greeted by ecstatic crowds numbering in the thousands expressing their devotion to the Dalai Lama. To their alarm, there were even calls being openly made for Tibetan independence.5
The Tibetan reaction to the first of the Dharamsala fact-finding missions abruptly drew the attention of the elite Chinese leadership to their policy failures in Tibet. The outpouring of nationalist sentiment made clear that the state of affairs inside Tibet was far different from what top officials in Beijing had been led to believe. A major reassessment of domestic Tibet policy began in April 1980, when a high-level working group, chaired by newly appointed party secretary Hu Yaobang, was convened in Beijing.6 Soon thereafter, Hu himself undertook his own fact-finding trip to Tibet. At the end of his nine-day tour, he delivered a landmark speech that indicted the Party for its failures in Tibet and signaled a new period of reform for the region (Yao 1994:288). Hu’s ambitious reform agenda for Tibet had immediate consequences, including the removal of Ren Rong from the top post as first secretary of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR). The reform package included specificmeasures that would radically impact the political economy of the region and addressed the need for a change in attitude toward Tibetan culture and ethnicity among Chinese cadres.
The outcome of the fact-finding missions also prompted the Chinese leadership reassess their strategy toward the Dalai Lama. While it was still believed to be in China’s interests to normalize relations with the exiled leadership, the political costs of the Dalai Lama’s return were now far less certain. Would his presence, as they hoped, serve to legitimize China’s rule of Tibet? Or would it re-ignite latent aspirations for Tibetan separatism? As a period of internal discussion ensued, the Chinese leadership became increasingly circumspect in their engagement with the exiled Tibetan leader. By as early as October 1980, Deng Xiaoping signaled a retreat by pointedly identifying the Dalai Lama as a separatist.7 The growing Chinese reticence to enter into meaningful engagement with the Dalai Lama became evident to the exiled Tibetans both in the tighter control of the remaining fact-finding delegations,8 as well as by the Chinese failure to respond to a formal letter sent bythe Dalai Lama in March 1981. Rather than take seriously the Dalai Lama’s effort to engage in dialogue, 9
Hu Yaobang presented to Gyalo Thondup the following five-point proposal at an informal meeting in Beijing on 28 July 1981:
- Our country has already entered a new stage of long-term political stability, steady economic prosperity, and unity and mutual assistance among the nationalities. Since the Dalai Lama and his followers are smart, they should have confidence in this. If they doubt these changes, they can wait and see for a few more years.
- The Dalai Lama and his representatives should be frank and sincere, and not beat around the bush. They should not bargain as if doing business. There should be no more quibbling about past history, namely the events of 1959. Let us disregard and forget this.
- We sincerely welcome the Dalai Lama and his followers to return to settle. This is based on our hope that they will contribute to upholding China’s unity and promoting solidarity between the Han and Tibetan nationalities, and among all nationalities, and to make a contribution to achieving the Four Modernizations.
- The Dalai Lama would enjoy the same political status and living conditions as he had before 1959. The CCP will be able to recommend to the National People’s Congress that he be re-appointed as Vice-Chairman of the NPC Standing Committee. Also, through consultation, he can hold the position of Vice-Chairman of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference…But he should not return to Tibet. He should not concurrently hold positions in Tibet because young Tibetans have already taken office and they are doing their jobs well! Of course he can return to Tibet often to observe the conditions. His followers need not worry about their work and living conditions. These will only be better than before because our country has developed.
- When the Dalai Lama returns, he can issue a brief statement to the press. He can decide the contents of the statement himself. He should give us notice of the year, month, date of his return. If he will arrive in Hong Kong and travel overland through Guangzhou, we will send a ministry-level cadre to the border to receive him and issue a press release. If he will arrive by air, we will organize a ceremony of proper scale to welcome him and issue a press release.10 [emphasis added]
Hu’s five-point policy not only established that the Chinese leadership’s primary interest in pursuing talks was simply to secure the return of the Dalai Lama, it also outlined the specific conditions under which his return would be acceptable. The restrictive nature of the terms regarding where he might be permitted to live pointed to a heightened concern about the unpredictable effects of the Dalai Lama’s presence in Tibet. The fifth point concerning permission to issue a press statement seemed to point to the degree to which the Dalai Lama’s existence would be tightly controlled in China. Within such a sharply defined political framework, the uncertainty of the effects of the Dalai Lama’s presence could be reduced. This policy thus indicated that even prior to the formal talks of 1982 and 1984, a reconsideration of the feasibility of rapprochement with the Dalai Lama had already begun.
Nevertheless, in 1982, there was still some interest within the Chinese leadership to pursue his return, albeit on narrowly defined terms. Representatives of the Dalai Lama were accordingly received in Beijing that year to discuss the matter formally.11 The Tibetans were disappointed by Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy as it reduced the issue on the table to simply the terms of the Dalai Lama’s return. But the delegates were nonetheless bolstered by the overwhelming reception given to the fact-finding missions in Tibet and believed that it had increased their leverage in the discussions. Moreover, there was still Deng Xiaoping’s initial assurance that apart from independence, all other matters could be discussed. The three-member Tibetan delegation consequently came prepared to talk about the Dalai Lama’s vision for the political status of a future Tibet.12 Specifically, they proposed that all Tibetan-inhabited areas be incorporated into a single administrative unit whose political future would then be under discussion. They also raised the issue of being given the same special status that had recently been offered to Taiwan. The Chinese, however, maintained that the only basis for negotiations would be Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy.
Over the next two and half years, no further progress was made in the dialogue process. Instead, the Chinese turned their attention to reforms in Tibet itself, convening the Second Work Forum on Tibet in early 1984 to launch the implementation of the open door policy to the region. While plans to integrate Tibet into China’s market economy were getting underway, a perceptible shift in Chinese attitudes toward the Dalai Lama was also taking place. While the conservative TAR party secretary Yin Fatang publicly accused the Dalai Lama of treason,13 moderate national reformers such as Hu Yaobang began to publicly characterize the Dalai Lama as an opponent whose influence in the region was necessary to counter through rapid economic development. This shift in public discourse signaled a growing disinterest within the Chinese leadership in normalizing relations with the Dalai Lama.
Thus, when the Tibetan delegation returned to Beijing for the second round of talks in October 1984, the mood had already become considerably less hospitable. The Tibetans announced the Dalai Lama’s rejection of Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy and proposed instead a plan for the creation of a demilitarized zone of peace in a reunified Tibet. This political entity would have a high degree of autonomy in association with the PRC.14 From the Tibetan point of view, the Dalai Lama’s proposal represented an important compromise as it relinquished Tibet’s claim to independence. While they sought to present this proposal as meeting Deng’s 1979 terms for discussion, much had transpired in the intervening five years and the Chinese were now resolute in their commitment to the narrow terms of Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy. Indeed, they categorically refused to consider the discussion of any issues other than that of the Dalai Lama’s return.
By this time, the Chinese clearly recognized that they faced serious problems in Tibet, but they did not regard the Dalai Lama as necessary to the solution. Rather, the Tibet issue was framed as primarily about the need for modernization and economic development. The Sino-Soviet rapprochement in 1986 gave further impetus to disengagement. With the elimination of the Soviet concern, the Dalai Lama was no longer seen as a low-cost solution to an outstanding strategic concern, but rather as simply a destabilizing factor in what turned out to be a quagmire of ethnic tension.
Conspiring to tilt the balance in favor of pulling away from engagement were forces at work at the national level. The initial Chinese overture toward the Dalai Lama had been made in the first heady days of Deng Xiaoping’s leadership, coinciding with the watershed reforms of the Third Plenum of the Eleventh Central Committee. These reforms had the effect of overturning many of the ideological foundations of Mao’s leadership. But political tensions soon surfaced as the sweeping reforms led to an overheating economy, a weakened social welfare system and rampant corruption. The new social pressures created by the reforms made the liberal factions of the Chinese leadership vulnerable to attack from the conservative elements within the Party. By the mid-1980s, the environment was no longer conducive for risk-taking leadership.15 Deng Xiaoping’s attacks on ‘bourgeois liberalism’ in 1986 and the purge of Hu Yaobang himself in January 1987 signaled a definitive retrenchment fromthe liberal reform agenda. With the removal of Hu, there was no one left in the senior leadership willing to push for any kind of engagement with the Dalai Lama. Moreover, the reformist agenda that had created the conditions within which an argument for rapprochement was possible was itself in a precarious situation. Thus, with the spirit of reform of 1978 giving way to an atmosphere of growing apprehension, the first window to Sino-Tibetan dialogue quickly came to a close.
Turn to the International Community
Once the Chinese leadership lost interest in pursuing talks with the Dalai Lama, the basic asymmetry in the relations between the disputing parties was made fully apparent. Incapable of exerting any force of compulsion over the Chinese on its own, the exiled Tibetan leadership turned to the international community to pressure China to reopen talks. The question of Tibet had already begun to develop a higher profile as the Dalai Lama became more visible through his travels in the West. With this shift in Tibetan strategy, the Dalai Lama would begin to make explicitly political appeals to the international community. The first major initiative of this new strategy was launched on 21 September 1987. In an address to the US Congressional Human Rights Caucus, the Dalai Lama announced that he had been compelled to appeal to the international community because of the Chinese refusal to negotiate. In a strongly worded speech that described Tibet as an ‘independent state under illegal occupation,’ the Dalai Lama pointed out that the Chinese had reduced the question of Tibet to a discussion of his own personal status ‘instead of addressing the real issues facing the six million Tibetan people.’ He then proposed a five-point peace plan for Tibet:
- Transformation of the whole of Tibet into a zone of peace;
- Abandonment of China’s population transfer policy;
- Respect for the Tibetan people’s fundamental human rights and democratic freedoms;
- Restoration and protection of Tibet’s natural environment and the abandonment of China’s use of Tibet for the production of nuclear weapons and the dumping of nuclear waste;
- Commencement of earnest negotiations on the future status of Tibet and on relations between the Tibetan and Chinese peoples.
The reaction to the five-point peace plan was mixed. While congressional supporters applauded this effort, the US State Department registered its strong disapproval of the Dalai Lama’s political speech and took the opportunity to clarify the US government position on the status of Tibet. At a hearing on the question of human rights in Tibet before the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee in October 1987, a State Department spokesman complained that the Dalai Lama had engaged in activities inconsistent with his status as a religious leader and explicitly disavowed the administration’s support for the five-point peace plan. It was furthermore made clear that while the US support for human rights was ‘unwavering’, it was not in US interest to link the issue of human rights in Tibet to a political program.
The immediate Chinese response to the five-point peace plan was to issue a detailed rejection.16 While the highly public staging of the announcement of the Dalai Lama’s proposal was unprecedented, the Chinese were already familiar with the broad outline of the plan itself. What heightened the significance of the Dalai Lama’s initiative was the sudden eruption of a pro-independence protest in Lhasa less than a week after the Dalai Lama’s address on Capitol Hill. This was followed four days later by an even larger demonstration that ended in police firing into crowds. The Chinese were unnerved by this development, both because of its timing and because it appeared to confirm the Dalai Lama’s message about the abuse of human rights in Tibet. The Chinese reacted by blaming the Dalai Lama for instigating and planning the Lhasa demonstrations. In his memorandum of 17 October 1987, the head of the United Front, Yan Minfu, accused the Dalai Lama of raising an outcry for Tibetan independence by promulgating the five-point peace plan. It concluded nonetheless by stating that the Chinese leadership’s policy toward the Dalai Lama remained unchanged and that he was still welcome to return under the terms of Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy.
In his address to the European Parliament in Strasbourg on 15 June 1988, the Dalai Lama presented a further elaboration on his five-point peace plan. In this proposal, he called for the establishment of a ‘self-governing democratic politic entity…in association with the People’s Republic of China’ that would include all Tibetan-inhabited areas. Foreign policy would remain the responsibility of the Chinese government but Tibet itself would become ‘a genuine sanctuary of peace through demilitarization.’ He also proposed that the government of Tibet be founded on a ‘constitution of basic law’ that ‘should provide for a democratic system of government.’ This would mean that the government of Tibet would have ‘the right to decide on all affairs relating to Tibet and Tibetans.’
While the Strasbourg proposal was received positively by the international community, many of the Dalai Lama’s constituents in exile were stunned. The proposal represented the first public acknowledgment by the exiled Tibetan leadership that it was prepared to relinquish its claim to independence in exchange for a high degree of political autonomy within the framework of the PRC. For many Tibetan exiles, this was a dramatic concession that amounted to a betrayal of their trust. In contrast, the Chinese leadership was familiar with the broad outline of the proposal, as it had already been presented to them in the formal talks of 1984. In the Chinese view, the initiative called for an unacceptable political arrangement that effectively granted Tibet ‘semi-independent’ status and left the Chinese limited authority in Tibet’s affairs.
Despite the Chinese rejection of the Strasbourg proposal as a basis for dialogue, there was nevertheless a renewed interest in Beijing in reopening talks. On 23 September 1988, the Chinese Embassy in New Delhi delivered the formal Chinese response:
We welcome the Dalai Lama to have talks with the Central Government at any time. The talks may be held in Beijing, Hong Kong, or any of our embassies or consulates abroad. If the Dalai Lama finds it inconvenient to conduct talks at these places, he may choose any place he wishes. Bu there is one condition, that is, no foreigners should be involved. We are ready to designate one official with certain rank to have direct dialogue with the Dalai Lama.
There are two points which need to be clarified:
- We have never recognized ‘the Kashag Government’ which has all along indulged in the activities of the independence of Tibet. We will not receive any delegation or fact-finding group designated by the ‘Kashag government.’
- The ‘new proposal’ put forward by the Dalai Lama in Strasbourg cannot be considered as the basis for talks with the Central Government because it has not at all relinquished the concept of the ‘independence of Tibet.’ If the Dalai Lama is sincere in improving relations with the Central Government and really concerned for the happiness of the Tibetan people, for the economic development and prosperity of the Tibetan nationality, he should truly give up the ‘idea of independence.’ The Dalai Lama should place himself in the great family of the unified motherland and join the Central Government, the People’s Government of Tibet and the Tibetan people in discussing the major policies concerning Tibet.17
The parameters set by this Chinese offer to begin talks were disappointing to the exiled Tibetan leadership. It was evident that the Chinese position on the Tibet issue was now considerably more rigid and formalistic than it had been during the early 1980s dialogue. Unlike in the past, the Chinese declared their unwillingness to talk to representatives of the exiled government (‘Kashag’ government). As well, the condition specifying that the involvement of foreigners would not be permitted was also a new restriction. Finally, while no specific mention of Hu Yaobang’s five-point policy was made, the message indicated that the invitation was being made personally to the Dalai Lama and thus suggested that the talks would concern only matters personal to him.
The Tibetan response to this invitation was to publicly announce that formal talks would take place in Geneva in January 1989. Dharamsala also named the members of the Tibetan negotiating team, included among which was a Dutch lawyer, Michael van Walt van Praag, who was listed as an advisor to the team. The formal Tibetan reply to the Chinese message was not made until October 25 when Ala Jigme, a senior member of the Tibetan government-in-exile, delivered a message to a councilor at the Chinese embassy in New Delhi. The Chinese took as a sign of insincerity and bad faith the Tibetans’ failure to reply to their message of September 23 before announcing the date and venue of the talks. Moreover, the Tibetans had done so knowing that their negotiating team would not be acceptable to the Chinese.
On November 18, the Chinese formally expressed their disappointment in a message sent through their embassy in New Delhi. In addition to disapproving of the manner in which the Tibetans publicized the date and venue of talks, they also rejected all six members of the negotiating team – on the grounds of their engagement in ‘splittist’ activities – as well as the involvement of the Dutch lawyer. The message stated their desire to have direct talks with the Dalai Lama or a ‘trusted representative’ such as Gyalo Dondup. It also suggested Beijing as the most suitable venue for the talks. Thus, while the Chinese were, on the face of it, open for talks, they were in fact increasingly rigid in their approach to the Dalai Lama and his representatives. In their response of December 5, Tibetan government-in-exile defended their choice of delegates and furthermore insisted that the Strasbourg proposal provided the most appropriate basis for discussions.
No formal reply to this message was forthcoming. The two sides appeared to reach an impasse over what Dharamsala characterized as ‘procedural issues.’18 For the Chinese leadership, the question of how to manage their engagement with the Dalai Lama was put on hold as the situation in Tibet itself rapidly deteriorated throughout the following weeks. In the wake of yet another pro-independence demonstration that resulted in police firing at monks, the Chinese leadership grew alarmed at their apparent inability to suppress the seething ethnic unrest. In a move that indicated a hardening of Chinese attitude toward the handling of public disorder, the liberal-minded Wu Jinghua was dismissed from his post as first party secretary of TAR in early January 1989. Contrary to the official line, Wu had consistently maintained that the political unrest was not simply a product of outside instigation. His approach to handling the situation included organizing ‘heart to heart’ meetings with representatives of the major monasteries to hear their grievances. Wu’s replacement by Hu Jintao signaled a rejection of Wu’s moderate approach and indicated that Beijing sought to assert more direct control over the region.19
While major changes were underway at the top regional party level, the Panchen Lama unexpectedly died, just days after he had delivered a speech highly critical of China’s policies in Tibet. Amid this troubling context, the Chinese leadership offered the Dalai Lama a singular opportunity to break the impasse in formal talks by inviting him – ostensibly through the state-sanctioned Chinese Buddhist Association – to participate in a memorial ceremony for the Panchen Lama.20 It was intimated that while the visit would officially be religious in nature, the occasion would allow him to begin informal discussions with senior officials on the question of Tibet. Such a visit would have sidestepped many of the issues that stalled their more formal attempts to meet. However, caught up as they were in diplomatic maneuverings toward formal talks and the Strasbourg solution, the exiled Tibetan leadership proved unprepared for this sudden Chinese overture. After intense internal discussion, the exiled Tibetan leadership replied by asking for assurances that the Dalai Lama would be able to visit at least one Tibetan area and have a direct meeting with Deng Xiaoping.21 The Chinese responded negatively and this brief window of opportunity passed.
Stalemate
Having missed this opportunity, Dharamsala sought to return to the original offer to reopen talks. On 19 April 1989, a message was sent to the Chinese leadership indicating that the Dalai Lama’s representatives would be willing to meet in Hong Kong as suggested in the original Chinese message. But by then, the Chinese were no longer responsive. With Lhasa tightly controlled under martial law, Beijing’s attention had turned to the political crisis unfolding much closer to home. The instability engendered by the Tiananmen crackdown triggered a reorganization of the Chinese leadership itself. The subsequent purge of leaders led to the removal those who had been instrumental through the late 1980s in promoting talks with the Dalai Lama. Thus, for example, Yan Minfu – a protégé of Hu Yaobang – was ousted on the grounds of his support for Zhao Ziyang during the Tiananmen demonstrations. An outspoken critic of the turn away from the Dalai Lama, Yan had engineered the 1989 invitation for the Dalai Lama to attend the Panchen Lama’s funerary ceremonies. 22 Just as Hu Yaobang’s efforts to pursue talks with the Dalai Lama were undermined in 1987 by the larger struggle against conservative critics opposed to Hu’s national reform agenda, Yan’s attempts to reopen talks during his tenure as head of the United Front were also superseded by larger internal power struggles.
While factional party politics redrew the Chinese political landscape, the world itself transformed in 1989. As the Berlin Wall came down and the eastern European communist regimes fell in rapid succession, the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to the Dalai Lama.
Toward the end of this turbulent year, a turning point was reached in the Chinese strategy toward the Dalai Lama. It was decided at a meeting of the Politburo on 19 October 1989 that the relaxing of political controls since liberalization had given rise to the recent turmoil in Tibet. The meeting – commonly referred to in official discourse as ‘the turning point’23 – endorsed a hardline approach toward the enforcement of social stability while reaffirming rapid economic development as the centerpiece of its strategy. The meeting also determined that the moderate approach of seeking a rapprochement with the Dalai Lama had been ill conceived. The view that China’s problems in Tibet could be managed without his involvement was now established as the official line. This turning point meeting marked a definitive shift in the Chinese leadership’s previously equivocal position on talks with the Dalai Lama. The tentative Chinese interest in engagement signaled in the immediate aftermath of Strasbourg had come to an end.
As China steered away from the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan leadership began to shift the focus of its international campaign onto human rights abuses in Tibet. The height of the international opprobrium that followed China’s handling of both Tibet and Tiananmen coincided with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the subsequent emergence of newly independent states. With Chinese suspicions of Western motives reaching new heights, Beijing’s distrust of the Dalai Lama grew along with their perception of his increasing alignment with the West. The heightened public sympathy and political support for Tibet after 1989 tapped into longstanding Chinese fears of a western imperialist conspiracy to undermine the rise of China. This persistent undercurrent of ‘victimhood’24 fueled a growing sense of Chinese nationalist resentment and obscured the real Tibetan interests at stake in the dispute. The Dalai Lama made a series of public gestures toward breaking the stalemate,25 but in the inhospitable international climate of the early 1990s, Beijing steeled itself against any movement that could be perceived as legitimating the exiled Tibetan leader. In the face of China’s disengagement, Dharamsala formally retracted the Strasbourg proposal in 1991. A modic26um of communication between the parties was maintained through the intermediary role of Gyalo Dondup,27 but Beijing remained unyielding in its position.
In 1993, cracks began to appear in the existing Chinese strategy in Tibet. Just when the Chinese authorities succeeded in dismantling the organized pro-independence movement, a new wave of protests broke out in central and northeastern Tibet.28 On 24 May 1993, a thousand Tibetans gathered in the streets of Lhasa to demonstrate against grievances caused by the rapid economic reforms. What began as an economic protest against food prices ended six hours later in calls for independence. This incident was followed by an outbreak of political protests in rural Tibetan areas stretching from the Lhasa valley to southern Qinghai province. One chief cause of these protests was resentment against the recent influx of Chinese settlers and their growing control of the local economies. These developments indicated that the problem of political allegiance in Tibet was more pervasive and deep-seated than the Chinese leadership had evidently believed.
Realizing that new approaches werenecessary to contain popular dissent and disaffection, senior leaders convened in Beijing for the first national work meeting on Tibet since 1984. In addition to reaffirming the existing policy of rapid economic development, the Third Work Forum of July 1994 also signaled high-level endorsement of increased political repression and an aggressive new campaign to monitor ideological views. Control was tightened not only over religious institutions – known to be hotbeds of nationalist aspiration – but, more significantly, over Tibetan cadres. From this point on, Tibetan party members, officials, bureaucrats and administrators were closely monitored for signs of political deviance. Leading cadres, in particular, were prohibited from keeping not only photos of the Dalai Lama, but also generic religious objects such as rosaries. While intensifying the scrutiny of Tibetan cadres, the meeting also declared that more non-Tibetan cadres and demobilized military personnel should betransferred to Tibetan areas.
The Third Work Forum marked a new phase in Chinese attitudes toward the Dalai Lama. Fueled by bitterness over efforts to link US trade policy with human rights issues, senior leaders gave formal endorsement to the view that the Dalai Lama was an agent of hostile western forces, led by the US, whose goal was to undermine China’s stability and territorial integrity. This public denunciation was the first high-level authorization for an official campaign against the Dalai Lama since liberalization began in 1978. Following the launch of the first public anti-Dalai Lama campaign in January 1995, vitriolic attacks on the Dalai Lama inside Tibet reached levels unprecedented since the Cultural Revolution, prompting observers to comment that rapprochement was now further away than ever.
The new political campaigns corresponded to Beijing’s growing distrust of the Dalai Lama himself throughout the 1980s and early 1990s. While the Chinese initially appear to have believed that an accommodation with the Dalai Lama could reasonably be reached, they soon lost confidence when exiled Tibetan leadership proceeded to display what was perceived to be uneven commitment to serious talks. These included, for example, the premature announcement of the date and venue of the 1988 talks and the naming of a foreigner on the Tibetan negotiating team.29 The Dalai Lama’s failure to visit Beijing in 1989 reinforced the perception that the exiled Tibetan leadership was wavering in its resolve to seek a negotiated solution with Beijing. This perception was exacerbated in the early 1990s when the Dalai Lama began predicting that China would soon go the way of the Soviet Union. Taken together with the strong intimation that the Strasbourg proposal had conceded too much to the Chinese,30 these comments gave hardliners in Beijing further basis for accusing the Dalai Lama of insincerity in his claim to have relinquished the goal of independence. Chinese distrust of the Dalai Lama reached new heights in 1995 when the Dalai Lama raised the political stakes by preemptively recognizing Gedun Choekyi Nyima as the reincarnation of the 10th Panchen Lama. From Beijing’s point of view, this attempt to exclude the Chinese authorities from the decision-making process represented an aggressive political act that signaled the Dalai Lama’s willingness to pursue his ends outside of any process of dialogue and reconciliation.
Exploratory Talks, 1997-98
While the polemics inside Tibet escalated, the US government began to take a more serious interest in the Tibet issue. In contrast to the CIA involvement in the region during the 1950s and 1960s, the new US interest was propelled by a groundswell of public support for Tibet. The grassroots campaign had been effective not only in mobilizing strong bipartisan support in Congress, but also in pressuring the Clinton administration to raise the issue directly with Beijing. While the tactic of using trade to promote human rights was jettisoned by May 1994, Clinton began urging Jiang Zemin directly to open dialogue with the Dalai Lama from their first meeting in November 1993. In the mid-1990s, momentum grew within Congress to take further steps to promote dialogue. By July 1997, the administration announced the establishment of a special coordinator for Tibet policy within the State Department whose mission would include promoting substantive dialogue with the Dalai Lama.
This entrenchment of the Tibet issue within US China policy took place as Jiang Zemin moved Sino-US relations to the core of Chinese foreign policy. With Tibet frequently reappearing on the agenda of the US and other foreign governments, Jiang began to take a personal interest in the issue. After years of Tibetan efforts to establish direct communication, the highest echelons of the Chinese leadership responded to one of the numerous informal channels pursued by the Dalai Lama as the Deng era came to a close in early 1997. Three rounds of face-to-face meetings between Chinese officials close to Jiang Zemin and representatives of the Dalai Lama laid the groundwork for the next stage in what was hoped to be a breakthrough in the impasse. During the Sino-U.S. summit in June 1998, Jiang announced that direct channels of communication with the Dalai Lama had already been established.
This public acknowledgment of ongoing informal talks stunned the domestic audience and generated high expectations for the exiled Tibetan leadership. However, by the fall of 1998, there was no further indication of Chinese interest in engagement. Regardless, in the final week of October and early November, the Tibetan government-in-exile indicated to the foreign press that during an upcoming visit to Washington the Dalai Lama would make a major statement that could clear the way for the next stage in dialogue. It was made known that the Dalai Lama was considering a December trip to Wutaishan, an important Buddhist pilgrimage site in China.31 Despite the flurry of press reports, however, no statement was forthcoming. Instead, a week later, Xinhua reported Jiang Zemin of accusing Tibetans of using discussions about the contacts to ‘deceive public opinion.’32 Several weeks later, the Dalai Lama publicly acknowledged that all channels of communication had broken down.33
The sudden collapse of the 1998 Sino-Tibetan talks points to a lack of consensus within the national leadership. The decision to open informal talks with the Dalai Lama had been made at the highest level, but evidently without broad support from key players. In particular, the initiative was taken without the involvement of the CCP Central Committee’s United Front Work Department, the institution within the Party formally charged with the responsibility for managing Tibet policy. The involvement of the United Front would have made the initial exploratory talks intractable, if not impossible, given their conservative position on the Dalai Lama.34 The institutional resistance to Jiang Zemin’s initiative apparently found high-level political support in Li Ruihuan, the Politburo member whose portfolio included the United Front. While Li himself has been regarded as relatively liberal in his views, his personal rivalry with Jiang Zemin is believed to have played a role in putting an abrupt end to the dialogue process. The bottom line was that these exploratory talks were inconsistent with the official policy of isolating the Dalai Lama. Objections to Jiang’s initiative could therefore be made on procedural as well as political grounds.
The abrupt shutdown of the channels suggests that Jiang Zemin had either insufficient authority or too little political commitment to overcome the opposition and push this contentious initiative forward. Indeed, Jiang formally reversed his position on dialogue with the Dalai Lama at a high-level party meeting in late 1998. Jiang signaled his retrenchment from engagement by stating that the Dalai Lama was not trustworthy. Pointing to the recent visits of several world leaders, all of whom raised the Tibet issue in precisely the same way, he reiterated the established official line that the entire matter was a western conspiracy. With this statement, Jiang’s first exploratory initiative came to an end.
While the 1998 dialogue process was stillborn, it was nonetheless the first unambiguous signal that there was some movement within the senior leadership to reconsider the prevailing Chinese position on talks with the Dalai Lama. Yet while high-level exploratory talks were underway in 1997-98, the political repression in Tibetan areas continued to intensify. This basic incoherence suggests not only a lack of clear vision in China’s policies on Tibet, but also a degree of disjointedness in the outlooks of the national and regional elites.
1 For detailed historical accounts of this period, see Shakya (1999) and Smith (1996). For accounts of the dialogue process in particular, see Norbu (2001) and Goldstein (1997). See also Sperling (2004).
2 According to Norbu, the condition was stated as follows, "The basic question is whether Tibet is part of China or not. This should be kept as criteria for testing the truth…So long as it is not accepted that Tibet is an integral part of China, there is nothing else to talk about." Norbu (2001:316) This condition has been widely interpreted as being: ‘anything, apart from independence, can be discussed.’
3 While the Chinese questioned the Dalai Lama’s interest in developing relations with the USSR, they nonetheless took the position that it was necessary to preempt any such relation from developing. P.T. Takla (1995:140) Also see Rabgyal (1990:10-13) and Norbu (1991:3)
4 See, for example, Thupten Khetsun (1998).
5 See also Jigme Ngapo, "Behind the unrest in Tibet," China Spring, vol. 2, no. 2 (January/February 1988); Warren Smith (1996:565-568 and 570-572)
6 For an account of the proceedings of the meeting, see Report of the National United Front Work Conference, January 23, 1982, Minzu zhengce wenxuan (Selected Documents of Nationality Policy) cited in Sharlho (1992:38n.9).
7 In comments to the Panchen Lama, Deng stated: "You and the Dalai are different. You are patriotic and support the unity of the country, while the Dalai is someone who engages in separatism." TAR Communist Party History Chronology, October 26, 1980.
8 The second fact-finding mission, led by Tenzin N. Tethong, was expelled from Tibet on a charge of inciting political disorder among the masses. Both the second and third missions arrived in May 1980. The fourth scheduled delegation was cancelled altogether. A delegation led by W.G. Kundeling was finally permitted to travel to Tibetan areas outside the Tibet Autonomous Region in 1985. For detailed accounts of these missions, see Shakya (1999:378) and Smith (1996:571).
9 The letter criticizes the current conditions in Tibet, but applauds Hu Yaobang’s efforts to remedy the situation by acknowledging past errors. Dharamsala and Beijing: Initiatives and Correspondence, 1994, p.8-9.
10 Xizang Qingkuang Jianjie, Zhonggong Xizang Zizhiqu Dangwei Xuanchuanbu Bian (TAR CCP Propaganda Department) (July 1985) p.32. Translation by the authors.
11 The Tibetan delegation consisted of the same three representatives in both April 1982 and October 1984: Juchen Thubten Namgyal, a senior cabinet minister; Lodi Gyaltsen Gyari, then chair of the Tibetan parliament-in-exile; and Phuntsog Tashi Takla, a former Kuson Depon and interpreter for the Tibetan Government at the 1951 signing of the 17 Point Agreement.
12 Norbu (2001:320-321). There is disagreement about the content of these discussions. Goldstein takes issue with Norbu’s account of the Tibetan position at the 1982 meeting; Goldstein (1997:138 n.12).
13 Shakya (1999:398).
14 Norbu (2001:321).
15 The first student demonstration in Tiananmen Square erupted in 1985. These were followed by larger student demonstrations in late 1986. These were influenced by the calls for political reform by prominent figures such as Fang Lizhi.
16 The State Nationality Affairs Commission issued a detailed rejection of the five-point peace plan on 28 September 1987; as cited in Shakya (1999:523n.61).
17 News From China, No. 40 (New Delhi: Embassy of the People’s Republic of China, 28 September 1988) as cited in Norbu (2001:323).
18 Background paper, ‘The Tibetan government’s position on negotiations with China’ (Dharamsala: Department of Information and International Affairs, 1995).
19 For a longer account of this development, see Shakya (1999:430).
20 The Dalai Lama’s decision not to accept this invitation has been characterized as one of the most important missed opportunities in the post-1978 era (see for example, Goldstein (1997:90). Considered in light of the circumstances of the day, however, this seems doubtful since, by the end of 1989, those who engineered the invitation were themselves purged from their positions of power.
21 Lodi Gyari, closing remarks, ‘Inside Tibet Conference’, Georgetown University, September 2003.
22 Yan Minfu was unusually open-minded toward the question of engagement with the Dalai Lama. During a private gathering at the Panchen Lama’s residence in Beijing in the late 1980s, Yan even proposed that the United Front’s name should be changed to reflect the changing times. Arjia Rinpoche, personal interview, San Francisco, August 18, 2003.
23 ‘Zhongyang zhengzhiju changwei taolun Xizang gongzuohui jiyao’ (Minutes of Central Politburo Standing Committee Discussion of Tibet Work). This document is commonly referred to as ‘the turning point document’ – in Chinese, zhuanzhexing wenjian.
24 In Chinese, shouhaizhe xintai.
25 These included, for example, offering to meet Li Peng during his December 1991 visit in New Delhi. In a speech at Yale, the Dalai Lama also proposed to visit Tibet himself.
26
27 Gyalo Dondup undertook numerous trips to China throughout this period. His June 1992 was described as ‘semi-private’, while his mission to deliver a memorandum a year later was regarded by Tibetans as ‘official’, given his status as a Cabinet minister at the time.
28 For an account of these developments, see Cutting off the Serpent’s Head: Tightening Control in Tibet, 1994-1995, Tibet Information Network, Human Rights Watch/Asia.
29 In their formal response to the Strasbourg initiative of 23 September 1988, the Chinese stipulated one condition in order for formal talks to proceed: that no foreigners should be involved. The Tibetan government-in-exile maintained that the Dutch lawyer Michael van Walt van Praag would not be a member of the team itself, but rather would be one of its advisors.
30 Dalai Lama, ‘Address to Yale University, 1991’, in Dharamsala and Beijing: Initiatives and Correspondence, 1981-1993.
31 ‘Outline of Dalai Lama bid revealed,’ South China Morning Post, November 3, 1998.
32 ‘Jiang urges US to be far-sighted on Tibet issue,’ Xinhua, November 16, 1998.
33 ‘Dalai Lama says informal China talks broken down,’ Reuters, December 9, 1998.
34 Officials in the United Front led a campaign against contacts with the Dalai Lama during this period. The two volume set, Toushi Dalai, was a published as a part of this campaign. These volumes haphazardly compile unsubstantiated and largely incoherent accusations against the Dalai Lama. Shen Kaiyun and Dama, Toushi Dalai (Seeing Through the Dalai) (Lhasa: Xizang Renmin Chubanshe, December 1997) vol 1 and 2.
The paper was commissioned by the East West Center, a thinktank based in Washington D.C. The complete paper is available on Amazon.com and also free online as a PDF document the following address.
