Some thoughts on the present status of the Tibetan struggle
By Michael Ginguld
A small boat floats, it has two sails,
and all the sailors have fallen asleep.
The wind sweeps across the water,
A child paces the shore silently.
A sad-eyed child he is.
The waters flow endlessly.
If all the sailors do not wake up –
How can the boat reach the shore?…
(Nathan Yonathan, inspired by the Russian song Gorod Na Kame, from the film “the Childhood of Maxim Gorky”)
A Small Boat is Floating (Hebrew: Dogit Nosat), was one of my favorite childhood songs. Its melancholy tune and message were always somewhat baffling, but it also made me want to wake up the sailors and help the child free himself from his sad-eyed state.
The Tibetan struggle is not a boat but still, allow me to indulge in the use of a few analogies here.
In my years as an outsider participant in the Tibetan struggle, I became accustomed to thinking of it being guided by two sails: one dedicated to pushing the issue of Tibet’s political future ahead and giving thrust to the boat; the other devoted to preserving and enhancing Tibetan culture, heritage and identity and thereby providing stability and direction. Together, these two sails were to propel the boat to safe shores, where the Tibetan people’s aspirations and identity are fully realized and safe.
It now appears that one of the sails is being taken down. And the sailors? Well, it depends on who you ask…
For the last two decades, and increasingly, in the last 10 years and about 10 days, I have watched with some bewilderment at what seems like a self-initiated (some would say, inflicted) “onion-peeling” process of the Tibetan Government-in-exile, beginning with openly giving up the quest for independence, continuing with the dismantling of some of its economic institutions in exile, and now shedding its symbols (and claims?) of being a Government OF Tibet IN Exile (my emphasis).
No matter how one views the future of Tibet, I firmly believe that holding on to the assets the Tibetan people collectively own (culture, national identity and institutions) is essential to shaping ANY future course. This is true regardless of what shape this future takes, or how the other side views these efforts (undoubtedly negatively), or the views of outsiders (hey, we go to our homes at the end of the day, where we mostly deal with similar issues differently to what we advise the Tibetans to do. Mostly, we do not even have to deal with these issues).
A moment or two before the onion peeling gets to a point where one remains with a few assets, namely dry peels and watering eyes, it may be worth to pause an assess the situation at present and going forward.
Strategy
Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben Gurion, famously said during the Second World War that Jews in Palestine should fight with the British as if there were no British mandate rule in Palestine, and fight the British as if there had never been a Second World War.
During the long years of exile, the Jewish nation employed a dual strategy of constantly working to preserve the Jewish identity, in part through the establishment of institutions and physical entities in exile, while on the other hand maintaining a mental state of constant preparedness for an immediate return to “our fathers’ land”.
A very similar strategy seems to have guided the Tibetan struggle for the past 50 years of exile and turmoil. The present process of taking one sail down is surely in danger of changing this – pushing the boat further into the deep sea or, at the very least, steering it in a very different direction.
Tactics
Negotiations, I was taught, is a like a tug of war:
You have an anchor who wraps the rope around himself. He is both the leader and the symbol of his team – egging them on when needed, holding fast when required, always guiding.
You have the tactics. There are two possible moves: defend (dig your heels in, literally), attack (pull with all you’ve got). There is of course a third option, which is… well, to be overpowered by the opponent and fall in a heap as the rope – and victory – is pulled away from you.
The present China-Tibet state of affairs presents interesting additional options to these three options.
The Chinese Government, on the one hand, seems to have long ago tied its end of the rope to a pole, wedged deep in the ground. From time to time, it quickly pulls the rope a few notches further, and then pegs the pole again. At no time though, as approach is being practiced, does it respond directly to tugs or signals from the other side.
The Tibetan side, at the moment, also seems to be engaging in a curious maneuver of its own. Instead of using any of the two active tactics, it is voluntarily telling the anchor to let go and is voluntarily laying down the rope.
Two strange tactics. Similar in being one-sided steps originating from an internal decision rather than as a response to any signal from the other side. Similar in their inert nature– only nothing is ever really static (or so the Buddhist teachers tell us).
How will the boat reach the shore?
The boy on the shore, as I realized way back then, is not merely a passive spectator. He actually wishes for the boat to reach the shore. How can the Tibet boat inch closer to its desired shore?
I believe that it needs to maintain the dual-sail strategy of digging in by preserving and promoting one’s identity, while also actively working to further the cause of getting Tibet back to its rightful owners – the Tibetan people.
Tactically – there is no need to lay down the rope voluntarily. What are the chances that the other side will view this in any light other than capitulation? In a tug of war at least – nil.
Tired? Dig in, hold the position. Ready to have another go? Give the rope a tug and see if it is still tied to a pole or – maybe, perhaps just maybe – it no longer is.
Whatever happens – as my muscular tug-of-war guide of so many years ago told me – DO NOT LET GO OF THAT ROPE!
The author is a supporter of the Tibetan Government in Exile
[OPINION-DISCLAIMER]
