By Dhruba Adhikary
LHASA – As much as Nepal might desire, and benefit from, an independent, sovereign Tibet across its borders, as is widely advocated in much of the Western world, the chances of this happening remain poor.
Nepal shares nearly half of Tibet’s 2,400-kilometer Himalayan border, which also touches India, Bhutan, Sikkim and Myanmar. Intensive use of existing highways and traditional trek-trails through mountain passes are already in place to boost both commercial and cultural contacts to the advantage of the people living on either side of Mount Everest, known as Qomolongmo in China, which has granted Tibet “autonomous region” status.
Politically, too, Nepal is among a few countries that stand to make substantial gains should Tibet re-emerge as a Vatican-style holy place of Buddhists ruled by the Dalai Lama, now living in exile. Lhasa, the bustling capital city of Tibet, has a special place for Nepal, as is visible in the form of a consulate. No other country has been given permission to open a diplomatic mission in Lhasa.
Denizens of the Roof of the World, as Tibet is often referred to, have traditional regard for Nepal because of its possession of Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha. Besides, because of its reputation as the victorious power in the war fought in the 19th century, Nepal enjoyed several extra territorial concessions in Tibet. Under a treaty signed in 1856, Tibet paid a yearly tribute (of 10,000 rupees) to Nepal until 1953. “Historically speaking, we had some suzerainty over Tibet,” prime minister B P Koirala said in 1959 – the year the 14th Dalai Lama fled to India. “We now have to look after two frontiers,” Koirala declared, admitting that Nepal did not have worries about its northern boundary until the Chinese military advances overwhelmed Tibet in the 1950s.
Nowadays, some Western leaders appear to be advocating that Tibet become independent or a territory with a provision for “genuine self-rule”. Nepalis, though, generally do not view this as a realistic proposition.
To be sympathetic to Tibetan refugees – numbering about 30,000 – is one thing, but to think of helping them to fight a freedom struggle with China from Nepal is quite another. It is simply inconceivable. The writer of this article, who recently spent 12 days in Tibet, has not found many Nepalis who support this idea.
China has consolidated its hold on Tibet in the past five decades through development of infrastructure and by introducing a series of welfare schemes for its people. Things have markedly changed since 1951, and especially after 1965, when Tibet was formally declared as a Chinese autonomous region.
However, those who prefer to interpret favorably US President George W Bush’s latest gesture toward the Dalai Lama in the form of a handshake at the White House last Wednesday may very well find a reason to be optimistic that Tibet could change. Ostensibly, supporters of the “Free Tibet” campaign can also draw some solace from the “interest and genuine sympathy” the 14th Dalai Lama found in Bush and his secretary of state, Colin Powell.
That Washington chose to defy strong Chinese protests against the visiting head of the Tibetan government-in-exile itself can also be construed as evidence of a sustained US assurance for a Tibetan cause. The hospitality extended to the visiting monk is very much in line with the presidential pledge contained in a report submitted to the US Congress last May; but it remains unclear whether this US commitment could actually be implemented to produce any tangible results.
Is, for instance, the Bush administration likely to drop combat troops into Tibet as it has done in the case of Iraq or Afghanistan? The answer is likely an emphatic “no” in existing circumstances. Washington’s warm words to the Dalai Lama, therefore, can at best be taken as a morale-booster message. Nothing more.
Several US presidents – both Democrats and Republicans – have performed this kind of public relations exercise in the past. Bush himself has done it before. Like his predecessors, Bush, too, needs to keep influential lawmakers in good humor, or else he has loses their support, particularly in the senate. Dianne Feinstein is one such senator, who represents the state of California; and she, like many fellow legislators, has to look after her constituency. It is a recorded fact that Feinstein was the leading sponsor of the Tibetan Policy Act that the president signed on September 30, 2002. And in June this year, it was Feinstein once again who moved resolutions to punish Nepal for having agreed to deport 18 illegal Tibetan immigrants at Beijing’s behest. Western diplomats agree – in private conversations – that the case would not have attracted as much attention in the US had her husband, Richard Blum, honorary consul general for Nepal in San Francisco, not been in Kathmandu at that time. Blum was in the Nepali capital apparently to attend the festival organized to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the first ascent on Everest, called Sagarmatha in Nepal.
The deportation incident, which happened at the end of May, ignited a major diplomatic brawl in Kathmandu, with the US and British embassies on one side and the Chinese Embassy on the other. Each issued sternly worded statements. While the US and British statements found it convenient to denounce the Nepali government, the Chinese statement countered the patronizing Western stand, defending Nepal’s right to expel illegal immigrants from its territory. “We hold the view that politicizing or adopting double standards will not be conducive for the proper settlement of the issue of illegal immigrants,” argued the Chinese statement, alluding to the practices applied by the Americans and British when they handle cases of aliens who enter their lands without valid travel documents.
“Small Nepal is often placed under great pressures by powerful countries,” said Kapil Kafley, editor of Raajdhaani, a major Nepali-language newspaper published in Kathmandu. “Even leaders of the Tibetan community have little understanding of Nepal’s difficult geopolitical situation. Insensitive remarks made by Wangchuk Tsering, the Dalai Lama’s representative to Nepal, are a case in point,” Kafley added, citing Tsering’s comments published in the San Francisco Chronicle of November 14, 2002. Apart from Tibetans, Nepal is home to about 100,000 Bhutanese refugees. And the presence in the country of the refugee agency, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, has been of a help – but it has been seen more often than not that they become active only when there are high-profile cases of Tibetans – as was evident in May.
Critics of Tibetan campaigners based in foreign comfort zones now include non-Nepali writers and journalists. Daniel Lak, a Canadian journalist working for the British Broadcasting Corp (BBC), expressed dissenting views in a newspaper article he recently wrote to review Patrick French’s book Tibet, Tibet. “People in San Francisco find it very easy to be self-righteous about causes far away,” said Lak. French, who spent 20 years fighting for the Tibetan freedom movement in Britain, is of the opinion that Tibet will never again be a sovereign state, at least not in the lifetime of anyone living now. Adds Lak, “It is time for Westerners to move on, and allow Tibetans to find their own solutions to their own problems.”
Why has French, an acclaimed historian and author, begun to question the usefulness of the external support to the people of Tibet? While the activities of some Tibetan collaborators with the Chinese, as well as the “contradictory affairs” of the Tibetan government-in-exile in Dharmasala, India, might have prompted the author to think the way he is thinking now, it cannot be an exaggeration to anticipate that the changing approach to life among the younger generation of Tibetans, who are growing up in a modern and rapidly urbanized atmosphere, also influenced the Western author. As visitors to Lhasa can witness for themselves, most of the young boys and girls in the city of about 300,000 inhabitants wear trendy expensive clothes, and are to be found frequenting nightclubs, the number of which is swiftly going up.
Few among these adolescents can be expected to lead a life of saffron-clad monks, making rounds in Jokhang, Sera or Ramoche monasteries. Similarly, it would be a mistake to presume that all native visitors to Potala and Norbulinka palaces, both associated with the Dalai Lama, are there to seek spiritual contentment. More often, it is the curiosity to know about the comforts the head lamas enjoyed during their times that attracts the attention of modern-day Tibetans. To them, these places are already like museums, and are important only from the historical point of view. Very few among these people genuinely expect the return of pre-1959 days with the Dalai Lama at the helm of affairs.
The Chinese authorities, though they are against the idea of restoring the old feudal order, do not seem to be creating problems for those Tibetans who want to spend their time in religious activities. Sights of large numbers of elderly men and women flocking to shrines with prayer wheels in their hands are too visible to be ignored. As can be seen around famous Buddhist temples, shops selling images of Buddha are doing good business. Traders dealing in butter-fed lamps are busy catering to the demands of devout Buddhists.
Nyi Ma Tesring, 37, one of the monks assigned to escort visitors inside Jokhang temple, does not hesitate in responding to the questions, including ones on the 14th Dalai Lama, put forward by inquisitive visitors. During a conversation with the writer, he openly spoke of the damage inflicted on shrines when the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966-76) was at its height. But this is something that affected the whole of China, and Beijing has publicly admitted that excesses were committed during that period.
“During the Cultural Revolution, freedom of religious beliefs was seriously violated in Tibet, as elsewhere in the nation,” says an official publication released in 2001. China subsequently spent large sums of money for repair and renovation works across the country. Jokhang Temple, which is on the United Nations Educational and Scientific Organization heritage list, is among the 1,700-odd Buddhist pilgrimage centers now in Tibet. There are also four mosques for Muslims, and a church for Catholics. Muslims are conspicuous with their flat white caps – some of them are seen busy selling dried fruit at the main entrance of Potala.
Sights in Shigatse, about 300 kilometers to the west, are not different either. People are seen rushing to the main monastery to pay their respects to Chamba Lhakang (future Buddha) with offerings of scarves, incense sticks and currency notes and coins. Like Lhasa, Shigatse offers itself as a hub of Buddhist festivals and cultural activities.
A tour of these important holy places in the region leads visitors to conclude that media reports claiming the absence of religious freedom in Tibet are not true. The case of the Dalai Lama and the Buddhist clergy that form the basis of his support is different – it is a political matter related to someone whose interest is to retain his status as the god-king of Tibet.
The Tibetan language receives priority all over Tibet. Signboards in marketplaces and signposts on the highways are glaring evidence – Tibetan letters are printed on the upper side of the signboard and Chinese characters can be seen on the lower side of it. Needless to say, Tibetan calligraphy looks distinct and attractive. Authorities in Beijing have adopted policies to exempt Tibet from restrictive measures approved by the central government for the rest of China. The one-child policy, for example, is not strictly applied in Tibet. And the marriageable age is 20 for men and 18 for women in Tibet, whereas it is 22 and 20 for other parts of China. There are social-security schemes to cover health costs, and care of the aging population.
Of the population of Tibet, which was 2.6 million at the end of the year 2000, and is registering growth of 1.3 percent annually, more than 92 percent are of Tibetan stock. “Compared to Nepal, Bhutan or other Indian Himalayan areas,” wrote India’s left-leaning politician Sitaram Yechury after a recent visit, “the Tibet region is witness to unprecedented economic and other consequent social developments.”
Tibet continues to be a land of mystery for people living in distant lands. It wears a look that is different from mainland China. Chengdu, the nearest point in the mainland, is two hours away from Lhasa by air – an hour more than it takes to fly to Kathmandu. In fact, Tibet already possesses the characteristics that Bush referred to in the White House statement issued last week: “The president reiterated the strong commitment of the United States to the preservation of Tibet’s unique religious, cultural and linguistic identity and the protection of human rights of all Tibetans.”
The issue related to human rights – from the West’s standpoint – is not something Tibet alone is confronting – the whole of China deserves attention, if at all. And it is this US policy of paying special attention to Tibet that irritates China. Beijing considers this an interference in China’s internal affairs. Chinese analysts express surprise that the United States, which recognizes Tibet as a part of China (and has refrained thus far from establishing diplomatic relations with the self-proclaimed Tibetan government-in-exile), is implying that Beijing cannot represent the interests of Tibetans. “Who is the real representative of the interests enjoyed by the Tibetan people?” wondered analyst Hua Zi in a recent edition of a bi-monthly publication named China’s Tibet. “This should be a question,” Hua continued, “with answers clear to the United States, a country self-styled as the pioneer of ‘democratic politics’.”
China’s move into Tibet in 1951 was based on an agreement signed in May that year. But the Chinese claim historical records and evidence to prove their country’s sovereignty over Tibet since the 13th century. Documents on Nepal’s checkered relations with Tibet (also known as Bhot), too, endorse the Chinese contention. The pre-1949 China, which was an empire, had allowed the Buddhist clergy to exercise functional autonomy in Tibet. That India explicitly accepted Tibet as a part of Chinese territory as recently as this June has significantly contributed to embolden Beijing on its assertion on the issue. Washington, however, does not seem to have fully understood the implications of Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s decision to oblige China even as India plays host to the Dalai Lama and more than 100,000 Tibetan refugees.
Beijing’s protests to Washington are based on a long-standing Chinese perception that the Dalai Lama is an insincere and unreliable man who swings between two extremes – from demands for Tibetan autonomy to calls for an independent Tibet. “The Dalai Lama is not simply a religious figure, he is a political figure living in exile who has long been committed to separatist activities and to undermining national unity,” said spokesman Kong Quan of the Foreign Ministry in Beijing shortly before Bush welcomed the Dalai Lama at the White House.
If events of this kind in the past are anything to go by, China is likely to take the White House meeting as a provocative act. In June 1996, China unilaterally canceled a scheduled visit of German foreign minister Klaus Kinkel and shut down the Beijing office of Friedrich Naumann Stiftung, a political foundation, immediately after it organized a pro-Tibet international conference in Bonn. Chancellor Helmut Kohl, however, thought it wise to dissociate his government from the conference, which included the Dalai Lama and members of his government-in-exile.
Unlike Western diplomats, their Chinese counterparts based in Kathmandu do not regularly comment on seemingly sensitive matters. What they do, however, from time to time is to draw public attention to past incidents and relevant Chinese positions thereon. It is in this context that Nepal’s senior military and civilian officers often recall being reminded of the 1974 operation to disarm Tibetan rebels, called Khampas, who were discovered to be carrying out cross-border insurgency from remote Nepali hills into Tibet, with weapons – and training – clandestinely received from the US Central Intelligence Agency. The commander of the insurgency, Wangdi, was killed together with several other rebels. Those who survived surrendered, and the Royal Nepal Army put up a public exhibition in Kathmandu of the seized weapons and equipment that the insurgents used to attack targets in Tibet.
China and India, despite their entanglement since the armed conflict of 1962 and resultant border disputes, may agree to work in tandem if they see a need to protect their common interests – to keep the Americans at bay. And this could be a setback for Nepal’s fragile government, which has agreed to receive US and British military assistance (in addition to India’s) to counter the seven-year old Maoist insurgency that has already claimed nearly 8,000 Nepali lives.
