Time for talk on Tibet

Three important realisations have emerged following the historic March 2008 uprising in Tibet. First and foremost, Tibetans within Tibet, although often labelled 'voiceless', have regained the initiative on the Tibet issue. Despite the fact that the complaints being voiced by protesters were not new, the breadth of the protests was helped in crucial measure by the recent penetration of new technologies to even the most remote of Tibetan villages. Interestingly, despite the fact that Chinese-led development of Tibet has long been criticised for, in large part, not affecting Tibetans themselves, it was 'new media' introduced over the past five years by the Chinese authorities themselves that was competently used by the Tibetans to directly counter the Chinese state.

Protesting Tibetans demonstrated an impressive dexterity in particular with Internet and mobile-phone technologies. These were used both to efficiently coordinate events within China and Tibet and, most importantly, to then convey to the outside world powerful images of their protests. Even the strongest deployment of Chinese troops in Tibet since the 1950s could not fully prevent current information from getting out. This widespread use of new technologies appears to be a reality that will remain a significant feature of life and dissent in Tibet. Already, the events of 10 March 2008 and thereafter are by far the best documented of any in recent Tibetan history – as well as possibly the most thoroughly scrutinised by foreign eyes. Beyond Tibet-oriented organisations in the diaspora, Tibetan activists sent information directly to the international press, revealing a high level of understanding of what information matters where.

Second, it is important to recognise that, despite the emphasis of most media reports, the largest percentage of the public protests within Tibet were not actually in Lhasa. Rather, they were to the east of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR), in the traditional Tibetan areas of Kham and Amdo. The outside neglect of these areas is part of a longtime misunderstanding. Resistance against Chinese rule has always been more prominently perceived in central Tibet, particularly Lhasa, simply due to higher visibility. But in fact, opposition has long been stronger in the east, where most Tibetans are, by and large, better educated and more successful in business than are people elsewhere in Tibet. The recent events have thus been an important reminder that the larger 'Tibet' is not the same as what China has demarcated as the TAR. Tibetans, wherever they are on the plateau and whichever political entity they are attached to, face the same problems. Through their recent actions, Tibetans in the east have reminded the world of their existence.

Third, Chinese officials continue to claim that the protests were "masterminded" by a handful of individuals belonging to the "Dalai Clique". Quite to the contrary, however, all evidence indicates that demonstrations, though indeed fairly well planned and coordinated, were carried out mostly by complex, ephemerally organised networks of activists, including both lay people and monks. Indeed, the strength of these networks is precisely that they are not centrally steered, but rather are largely leaderless and organic.

The first real coming-out of these grassroots networks occurred in the winter and spring of 2006. At that point, following calls made by the Dalai Lama to shun the use of endangered wildlife skins, a popular movement flared throughout Tibet resulting in massive public fur-burnings (though it should be noted that the Dalai Lama never asked Tibetans to burn furs, but simply not to use them). The next obvious manifestation was a wave of mass prayers for the long life of the Dalai Lama in early 2007. The crucial distinction to be made here is the loyalty displayed by the Tibetan people towards the Dalai Lama, despite his own regular discouragement of public actions to prevent reprisals by the Chinese state. In addition, these new forms of dissent are a fundamental departure from the model of previous protests in Tibet, for instance that of the Khampa guerrillas of the 1960s until the early 1970s, or that of the Lhasa protests of 1989. Central to those experiences was either strong leadership in the first instance, or spontaneous and relatively unstructured protest in the latter.

Today's political activists in Tibet have learned from the failures of the past. Their aims are more realistic, and their strategies are far more sophisticated, including than those of exile groups. Instead of attempting to overthrow the regime by force – an objective that, given the balance of power, they must consider as beyond their scope – the activists aim to bypass the structures of the system and articulate Tibetan grief and hope in a way that creates a new consciousness both inside Tibet and internationally. They build on latent discontent and the common aspirations of the people, and can constitute an ad hoc 'taskforce' within a very short time. A few demand independence; some focus on religious demands, and some on development and the economy. But by far the majority focus on what remains the central issue: the Dalai Lama himself, his person and his ideas for the future of Tibet.

Vicious circle
The Dalai Lama issue remains central for both the Tibetans and the Chinese authorities. Today, 60 years after Beijing achieved power over Tibet, the authorities are quite simply scared by the figure of the Dalai Lama and his apparently inexhaustible influence over the people of Tibet. Again, the technological advances of recent years have proven crucial in continuing – and even strengthening – this influence. By utilising modern communication methods, Tibetans in even the most remote villages are able to stay very well informed about what the Dalai Lama thinks and says. And, once they have this information, their fervour to put it into practice is almost unlimited, sometimes even a bit overactive, such as the fur-burning incident.

Meanwhile, Tibetan discontent has been growing in particular because the Chinese authorities and administrators insist on vilifying the Dalai Lama. This has led to more defiance on the part of Tibetans, and more vilification and repression in return: a classic vicious circle. For example, young schoolchildren are forced to write essays against the Dalai Lama, with the most negative ones being rewarded. Quite opposite the intended result of such an exercise, however, China has become something of a negative term in classrooms. One Western observer has reported seeing very young students remark, when they did not like the taste of potatoes they were eating for lunch, that the tubers "must have come from China".

Obviously only reason and reasonableness on both sides can help to settle such a potentially explosive situation, at least in the middle term. But dialogue requires two sides, and this is where the situation has been stuck for years – a clear cause behind the current crisis. Since 2002, Beijing has been talking with envoys of the Dalai Lama, but has regularly stymied these discussions by continually setting new pre-conditions for serious talk. Of course, this strategy might well have been meant essentially to wear down the Tibetan side; but the miscalculation on the part of the Chinese leadership is that, instead of making people acquiescent, it has made them angrier. Politically, the Chinese leadership has manoeuvred itself into a corner, through a mixture of defiance, over-confidence, exaggerated prudence and lack of cultural sensitivity. Beijing has created a situation in which it has vilified too intensely the only figure who, at this point, could help them out of the current stalemate.

At the same time, holding substantive talks with the Dalai Lama would mean Chinese leaders implicitly admitting to failure, and that there are greater powers than their own – including accepting that the Dalai Lama has more influence over Tibetans than do the authorities themselves. Unfortunately, the Chinese leadership is notorious for not admitting to mistakes, and the country's current perception as an 'emerging superpower' will hardly make this easier. Of course, it is exactly such a situation that makes the country, somewhat ironically, more vulnerable to outside pressure.

Judicious balance
International reaction towards the happenings in Tibet has been surprisingly strident. On the official plane, this hints at a significant level of annoyance within many capitals towards Beijing. Amidst all of the discussion in recent years of China's arrival at a prominent position at the 'world table' – helped along by the awarding of the 2008 Summer Olympics to Beijing – it seems that many international officials had gotten used to looking at China as already having been 'normalised'. This led many also to assume, incorrectly, that Beijing is thus able to cope with its internal troubles with more dignity and competence, and in keeping with international standards on human rights.

But then, this March, officials the world over were suddenly confronted not only with the obvious dissent of the Tibetan people, coupled with the subsequent crackdown and media blackout by the Beijing authorities. Perhaps as importantly, Western governments also saw their own words being dramatically distorted in the official press; a complete refusal on the part of Beijing to admit to any mistake; and reports effectively inciting ethnic hate, and obviously false accusations being made towards the Dalai Lama. Of course, none of this was actually new, but very few were able to look the other way, or to blithely continue with business as usual, donning their economics-focused blinders.   Sporadic acts of dissent within Tibet are continuing. To a significant extent, though, momentum on the 'Tibet issue' has now largely moved off of the plateau – towards the diaspora, the government-in-exile and the international community. So what is the way forward? Although there are bedrock exigencies on which Beijing will never be able to give ground (foremost amongst which is, of course, independence), it is equally important to realise that there are certain places where opportunities can be found.

In this, there are some crucial balances to keep in mind. For instance, judicious equilibrium needs to be maintained between insisting that what is continuing to take place in Tibet – suppression, oppression, continuing lack of equality and human rights – clashes with the international consensus of the 21st century, and should be declared as such; versus pointing out the simple fact that almost no one actually supports Tibet's outright separation from China. Similarly, on the one hand there is general international agreement that the Olympics should indeed be regarded as little more than a celebration of sport and international goodwill; at the same time, however, the use of the games by Beijing for self-praise highlights a stark disconnect at a time when there is continued repression in Tibet. In this way, the Dalai Lama has stated that while he does not oppose the games taking place in Beijing, he does reserve the right to make a point about the situation in Tibet. Others need to feel comfortable with this balance, as well.

In so doing, it will be crucial that observers do not give the impression of being unfair. Critics will need to clarify what exactly they are angry about, and not simply let loose with general anti-China bluster. Ultimately, there must be a clear relationship between what is being pressured for and how that pressure is being applied. Perhaps the best example of this balance can be seen in the case of Taiwan, for which the international community sticks steadfastly to the 'one China' policy, while simultaneously refusing the 'right' of China to simply invade the island.

Opportunities
The most important issue at stake here is to get the Chinese authorities to take up the issue of autonomy seriously. In this, the single most crucial element is, as always, the right of the Tibetan people to revere the Dalai Lama without fear of reprisal. Of course, this is something that would require substantial efforts by the Chinese state. At the same time, given the Dalai Lama's longtime devotion to fostering harmonious relations, coupled with the continued intense support by the people of Tibet towards his person, this also offers a key opportunity for the Chinese state to show the Tibetan people that it is both serious and rational in its approach.

Close behind the first issue is the simple right to be a monk or a lay Buddhist without having to endorse the policy of the state – at least, not more than a few frivolous words here and there. In addition, there is the right to travel abroad, which ethnic Chinese currently have but most Tibetans, effectively, do not. Finally, and perhaps comprising the most significant opportunity, Tibetans must have the right to count on development works that truly help Tibetans, rather than the current subsidies in place for non-Tibetans to run businesses in Tibet that employ only non-Tibetans.

These elements make up a significant part of the calls for greater 'autonomy' – rather than outright independence – that the Dalai Lama, among others, has adopted over the past two decades. But there is a balance here, as well. Real autonomy would mean a devolution of power that, in reality, the Chinese authorities are not willing to allow even among the Han people. After all, how could experiments in devolution begin in an environment that Chinese authorities understand to be deeply resentful of the Chinese state, and which Beijing already imagines to be under the influence of 'international anti-China forces'? Ultimately, this would seem to suggest that the issue of Tibet's 'status' within China will never significantly improve without previous internal democratisation throughout the mainland. Paradoxically, Tibet's status issues will advance neither without the active participation of China nor without another China altogether.

That being said, there are several things that can be accomplished if the two sides were able to engage in real dialogue. Indeed, there are more overlapping interests here than would at first appear. For instance, dialogue should be able, eventually, to allow for an agreement under which Tibetans would be allowed to come and go freely from Tibet, including to Dharamsala to visit the Dalai Lama. If this freedom of travel is possible for mainlanders, then why not for Tibetans?   Development offers the single most tangible area for conciliation. Both sides would see a strong and successful development drive in Tibetan areas as serving their respective ends – lower levels of discontent, while also ensuring that Tibetans do not get mowed over, or bypassed entirely, by a Han-driven economy. For years now young men in rural Tibet have been encouraged by the authorities to migrate to the plateau's urban areas, where they suddenly find themselves hanging around, jobless, even while non-Tibetans are brought in from the mainland for work. Given such a situation, it is astonishing that flare-ups similar to what happened in mid-March had not taken place earlier. That the Chinese authorities, who are otherwise intent on micro-managing lives, never took care of this problem – despite being warned by their own academics – is a curious failure. Perhaps the current situation could offer an opportunity for an important rethink.

There is, in fact, plenty of opportunity to drive down unrest while bettering the lot of Tibetans, without either side coming to a formal agreement. Indeed, both sides could agree to disagree, even while looking forward to what could be done around the essentials outlined above. In this, there would be no need to change much of the talks format that has emerged over the past six years, except to take out the theatrical buzz from the proceedings: make meetings regular, cut short unnecessary speculation regarding whether they will take place, and agree on minimum principles of a standard agenda. For instance, the first part of the meetings could consist of a review of current policies, projects, etc; the second part could then deal with more-fundamental 'political' issues. Both sides could be free to publicly report on the meetings and their results from their own point of view, thus indicating, transparently, where there is common ground and where there is not. The two sides would be able to work effectively together where possible, while also clearly articulating their differences – thus cutting short misunderstandings in the first place, and providing chances to foster potential further agreement.

If such a process were, over time, to work well, then eventually something approaching meaningful autonomy could look more acceptable to both sides. Towards that end, the uprising of March 2008 needs to be seen as a firm foot in the door – a success not by pressure groups or the diaspora, but by the people of Tibet themselves.