His Holiness the Dalai Lama with Aung San Suu Kyi in London, England, on June 19, 2012. Photo: Jeremy Russell/OHHDL
Two years ago, no one would have thought this meeting would be possible. And yet here we are. In the face of such sorrow brought on by the latest self-immolations by two young men in Tibet, which have brought the toll to 42 deaths since March 2009, this photo is a vivid reminder that change is possible even if it doesn’t come as quickly or in quite the way we may hope.
“From the Himalayas to the Chao Praya: Festival of Tibetan Spirituality, Arts and Culture” concluded today, the 51st Anniversary of the Tibetan National Uprising. The festival was organized by the Sathirakoses-Nagapradipa Foundation, a Thai NGO that works for social transformation through spiritual cultivation.
As the event was being organized, the Chinese Embassy was putting pressure on the Thai government to stop it. Organizers were told they could not include photos of Tibetan refugees or anything political. Days before the event began, Thailand denied a visa to the Dalai Lama’s sister, Jetsun Pema la, who was meant to give the keynote speech.
The first day of the festival saw a protest by Chinese people outside the Art Center. One of the volunteers recognized her aunty in the protest and went to ask her why she was there. The aunty replied that someone at the Chinese Embassy had asked them to be there.
The situation reminded me of the protest against China’s Olympic Torch as it passed through Bangkok in April 2008. Under pressure from China, the Thai government had threatened to deport any foreigners participating in the protest. And of course, a confrontational mob of Chinese showed up at the exact location of the Tibet protest, bent on overpowering us.
Despite China’s efforts, the festival was a huge success. Several hundred people attended each day to learn about Tibetan history and culture through photo exhibits, thangka painting demonstrations, and daily performances of songs and dances from different regions of the country by the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (TIPA). A group of monks made sand mandalas and butter sculptures, occasionally glancing up to look back at the impressed crowds watching them. There were lectures by Thai scholars on Tibetan culture and religion, as well as by Geshe Damdul Namgyal, His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s translator, on the similarities between science and Buddhism. The Men-tsee-khang—the Tibetan Medical and Astrological Institute—brought displays of Tibetan medicine and had doctors on hand for those interested in trying it out for themselves.
Even without having an overtly political goal, one cannot separate politics from cultural and religious events such as this one. People wore their “Free Tibet” t-shirts and pins of the national flag proudly, and during the intermission at TIPA’s performances, Students for a Free Tibet’s poster commemorating 50 years of resistance was projected above the stage. In a recorded message presented at the beginning of each performance, His Holiness the Dalai Lama referred to the “bad situation” in Tibet and spoke of how he hoped this festival would bring together Tibetans and Thais, “Buddhist brothers and sisters” as he called them. In a political climate such as Thailand’s, protesting is not common unless it has to do with ousted Prime Minister Thaksin or the King. A festival such as this was the perfect first step to raising awareness in a country where China obviously holds a lot of weight. As any of us foreigners involved with the Tibet movement can attest, building familiarity with Tibetan culture invariably sows the seeds of support for the political struggle.
At this year’s Montreal Human Rights Film Festival, I went to see “Fire Under the Snow”, a film about Palden Gyatso, a Tibetan Buddhist monk who spent 33 years in Chinese jails. The documentary was simple but well made – it captured the real nature of the monk who drew me into the Tibet movement nine years ago.
I first heard about Palden Gyatso in high school. I was then a member of the Amnesty International club at school and had just learned about the situation in Tibet. A friend of mine, who was a member of Students for a Free Tibet, insisted that I come to see Palden’s public talk.
Just like in his talk nine years ago, in “Fire Under the Snow” Palden la tells the story of how he was arrested for protesting against China’s invasion of Tibet in 1959. He shows the tools the Chinese prison guards used to torture him and the other inmates, describing in gory detail how he was tied up, hanged, shocked, and beaten. And yet, despite the horrible pain inflicted on him, Palden la never gave in to his interrogators’ demands that he denounce his teacher as a spy nor did he lie about his motivations for protesting. Whenever questioned, he honestly told the prison guards that Tibet was independent and that he protested for it to be so yet again. After 23 years in several prisons and 10 years in hard labour camps, Palden la was released and escaped to Dharamsala, India, where he still lives. Instead of staying in a monastery with fellow monks, Palden la chose to live in a small room that I used to pass on my way to temple so that he could continue to work for Tibetan independence.
Nine years ago, Palden Gyatso’s story moved me more than any other political prisoner’s case had. I was amazed by the small, smiling monk who sat humbly but resolute at the front of the room, with a great sense of humour and deep compassion for the Chinese people and his prison guards, even after so many years of brutal torture. Because of his talk, I joined the local chapter of Students for a Free Tibet (SFT) who had helped organize his cross-Canada tour.
Last year, Palden la was attending a press conference in Dharamsala that SFT had helped organize for the Spanish lawsuit against the Chinese government, in which he is a main witness of the genocide being carried out in Tibet. A friend, knowing that Palden la had inspired me to join the Tibet movement, took me to meet him after the press conference. When we were introduced, Palden la held my hand, smiled sincerely, and said “good friends!”
It is the strength and dedication of Tibetans like Palden Gyatso who keep me involved in the movement. If they still have hope, then so will I. It’s infectious – as I’m sure the rest of the audience at “Fire Under the Snow” would agree.
During my last weeks in Dharamsala, the community had been preparing for ‘No Losar’. Taking their cue from their brothers and sisters inside Tibet, Tibetans in exile decided that they would not be celebrating their new year this month. Tibetans traditionally do not celebrate Losar when there has been a death in the family. There is no drinking and visiting friends and family, no new clothes or jewels, and for the children, no pocket money. None of these Losar customs will happen this year, in commemoration of the hundreds – if not thousands – of Tibetans who died during the Uprising last year.
My support for this campaign was not immediate. To me, Losar is an event for Tibetans to celebrate their Tibetanness, and to differentiate themselves from their Chinese oppressors. The two cultures have different New Year dates, which are celebrated with different customs. This call for no Losar seemed to be taking away the one time of year Tibetans get to publicly and proudly celebrate their culture.
But Tibetans’ calls are becoming more courageous and resolute. In the last several days, it has been reported that Tibetans in Ngaba County, Amdo (Chinese province of Sichuan), have posted the following message in their towns:
To the Tibetans of the three provinces, monks, nuns, lay men and women,
Let us unite our strength, and let us not surrender to this evasive system of repression. Let us hold our hands across all three provinces, and share our joys and sorrows.
We must never forget that those killed did not die fighting for their own interests. They died fighting for our just and noble cause and for the freedom of the land of snows.
For that matter we must not celebrate Losar this year.
So long as you are Tibetan, you must not celebrate this Losar.Do you want to be reunited with your guru? Do you want Tibet to be free?
If yes, then you should cancel Losar celebrations as a political act.Dear brothers and sisters, do not despair.
(Listen to the message on Students for a Free Tibet’s online daily news show, Our Nation.)
With the idea of no Losar spreading in Tibet and in Tibetan communities worldwide, the Chinese government in Tibet has begun scrambling to assure that Losar celebrations will be held as usual. There have been reports that Chinese officials are offering money for Tibetan families to buy firecrackers for New Year celebrations. The Chinese government knows that the cancellation of Losar will go against their propaganda that Tibetans are happy under their rule. But their domineering attempts to control Tibetans’ lives have only led to the increased politicization of the Losar boycott.
In the last three days, there have been as many protests by Tibetans in Lithang County, Kardze (Sichuan Province). At all three protests, the monks and laypeople called for Independence, the return of the Dalai Lama, and no Losar celebrations. These 21 people were severely beaten and are being held in detention. One of the protesters is now missing. (For more details, visit TCHRD’s website.)
With Tibetans inside Tibet risking their lives to call for the political boycott of Losar, they have won my support. This truly is an amazing and inspiring phase of Tibetan resistance. It may be organic, but it is widespread. It is also very difficult for the Chinese government to control without resorting to brute military force. And as it was during the Uprising of last year, Tibetans inside Tibet and around the world stand united in this latest form of resistance.
Here in Montreal, we will be holding a candlelight vigil to commemorate those who have and continue to sacrifice their lives for the freedom of the Tibetan people. Please join us for this ‘No Losar’ vigil, on Wednesday, February 25th at 5:30pm. We will be gathering at the Place des Arts (near the steps on Saint Catherine street).
For more inspiring stories of courageous resistance, see Students for a Free Tibet’s “Profiles in Courage” countdown to March 10th, the 50th anniversary of the Tibetan National Uprising.
Tsundue was the bearer of the good news. He sat translating for me at the public discussion of the Special Meeting, wearing a traditional Tibetan shirt and blue chuba over his usual jeans and old sneakers, more happy than I have seen him in months. In between peoples’ questions and the panellists’ answers, Tsundue filled me in on the final recommendations of the meeting that was anxiously watched by Tibetans and their supporters around the world.
I had few expectations from this meeting. An important moment in the history of Tibet, I hoped that it would not add to divisions within the movement or discourage the passionate freedom fighters that surround me.
A lot of media coverage focused on how Tibetans decided to stick to His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s Middle Path approach. However, the resolutions, as I heard them, were a lot more nuanced. The majority of participants at the meeting did in fact agree to continue with the Middle Path but they remain open to the option of independence if there are no concrete results from negotiations with China in the near future. While no one has put a definite time limit on the Middle Path, I find it a definite step in the right direction. But I wonder how naïve it is to believe that China will now be forced to sincerely approach the negotiations, as some have argued. I think that the only way China will ever take the negotiations seriously is if there would be a third-party moderator. Which raises the question: is there any country or third-party that the Chinese leadership trusts enough, who would actually be an unbiased moderator?
There hasn’t been much response from China since the meeting. However, there has been some joking around town that perhaps the Mumbai terrorist attacks this week were China’s response. Interesting considering that the last bombs used in Delhi were proven to be made in China, and that it is well known that China supplies arms to Pakistan.
I was somewhat distracted during the Special Meeting because I was acting as a production coordinator for a friend from Canada who was in town filming a documentary film called Journey of a Dream (check out the teaser). It was perfect timing for Shenpenn and the crew to get some interviews with people who were attending the meeting, some meat for the more political tones of the film. Interviewing Lobsang Sangye and T.C. Tethong outside the meeting, we all felt that we were witnessing history in the making.
On a personal level, it was kind of strange to be an injie girl showing Tibetan friends around town, introducing them to people, organizing trips and interviews. But it was a great experience to see how films are made, and a pleasure to spend my days with such an awesome crew. I can’t wait to see the finished film in 2010!!
On the opening day of the Special Meeting, I finally sat down to watch The Unwinking Gaze, a moving documentary about the Dalai Lama and his envoys who are engaged in the negotiations with China. The film opens with His Holiness in Canada, a visit during which I – and several dozen Tibet activists – was blessed to receive an audience with the Dalai Lama. The feeling the Dalai Lama evoked in all of us in that meeting, as in the auditorium full of tens of thousands of people, is palpable throughout the hour-long documentary that stirs up one’s faith, one’s sadness, and one’s dedication to this movement.
At one of the most touching parts of the film, after explaining His reasons for pursuing negotiations with the seemingly unwilling China, His Holiness is asked if he ever doubts this policy. He simply and matter-of-factly says, “No.” While I am confident of His certainty at that point in time, it is sadly no longer the case. His Holiness has blatantly said that his faith in the negotiations is getting “thinner, thinner”, to the point where He found it necessary to call this week’s Special Meeting to discuss His policy and the future of the movement. If a man such as the Dalai Lama has swayed in his resoluteness that negotiations were the way to a peaceful and lasting solution to the Tibet issue, the situation must indeed be as dire as we have all felt.
There are many hopes leading into this meeting (for some opinions and discussions, check out Phayul). Mine are that the discussions are fruitful and will leave the movement rejuvenated. And I hope with all my heart that His Holiness’ words will ring true:
“The Tibetan nation will not die.”
Before the Olympics, a friend posted a video of the Tiananmen Square Massacre on his Facebook page. I knew the story of the Chinese Army’s ruthless crackdown, but had never seen such brutal footage of it before. I cried as I watched tanks rolling over students in the street and police indiscriminately firing on crowds. I thought to myself, if the Chinese government, military and police treated their own people like this, imagine how bad things must have been in Tibet in 1987-89 and since March of this year. The same thought echoed through by mind as I read Bejing Coma.
When I heard about Beijing Coma, I was immediately intrigued. All of the author’s books have been banned in China. After he wrote Stick Out Your Tongue, a book about Tibet, Ma Jian was forced to leave his country, exiled for writing truths that the Chinese Communist Party didn’t want others to hear. A friend of mine who protested in Beijing during the Olympics this summer was told many times by Chinese police that she had a “criminal mouth” – I consider her to be in good company.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the interplay between fact and fiction, especially in terms of ethnography and novels. Most of my favorite books are historically or culturally based, and involve a lot of background research. I have been thinking of this interplay as an interesting means of presenting information about a culture or moment in history. But reading Beijing Coma raised some doubts. Having never read a detailed history of the Chinese democracy movement, I was somewhat obliged to give this book the benefit of the doubt and assume that it was accurate in its insight into the movement. But I didn’t feel comfortable with that assumption. Throughout the book, I found myself trying to determine what was historically factual and what was fictional. I was left supposing that, with such books, there is no way of discerning fact from fiction, unless one has done one’s own research or is already intimately familiar with the topic. For those not versed in a given subject then, do such books offer only a dubious source of knowledge?
If I were to take this book as factually accurate, it was striking how disorganized the protests were leading up to the Massacre. The students were driven to protest because of their disgust for their government’s corruption, but they had no real strategy or vision of where the movement was headed. It seemed like they were just making things up as they went along. This gave me a bit of confidence in the Tibet movement as we are definitely more strategic and have a more nuanced understanding of the struggle than the Chinese students did. But nonetheless, I was inspired by their drive to stand up for what they believed in, especially in the face of such a callous government and military machine. Their bravery – even if it was only the “stars in their eyes” idealism of 20-somethings – was enough that the Chinese people came the Square to support them, donating money, food, and supplies.
If you don’t want to delve into the entire 586-page book, you should at least read the last 40 pages. Knowing how the students’ occupation of Tiananmen Square ends, these pages were riveting. I could feel the students’ fear and their sense of outrage at their government. When the Army first starts firing into the crowds, the students cried out:
“The People’s Army loves the people! The Chinese people don’t shoot their fellow countrymen!”
This passage epitomized my disgust that the CCP could order such violence against peaceful democracy protesters. I may be biased, but the students’ demands were neither irrational nor dangerous for Chinese citizens – only the CCP.
As an optimist, I appreciate that Ma Jian tries to end Beijing Coma with a sense of hope for democracy in China, but I find reality much more dismal. Most of the movement leaders now live in exile, there is no “movement” anymore, and those individuals who do dare to speak out are silenced, jailed, or forced into exile. This lack of rights is exaggerated among the so-called “ethnic minorities” – such as Tibetans – whose struggle for basic rights and freedom is so intimately intertwined with the struggle for rights and democracy of all Chinese citizens.
How is it that the largest country in the world is still able to control the thoughts and actions of over a billion citizens and colonized peoples? Ma Jian offered an explanation:
“The Chinese are very adept at ‘reducing big problems to small problems, then reducing small problems to nothing at all,’ as the saying goes. It’s a survival skill they’ve developed over millennia.”
This is definitely something we saw with the Chinese government’s handling of the Olympic Torch Relay and the Games themselves. But it leaves me wondering: how do we force the government of one of the largest, most powerful countries in the world, to address the issues of human rights and democracy instead of brushing them under the table?
Five bombs exploded in downtown Delhi last night, killing at least 20 people and injuring another 90. More than 400 people have been killed in bombings in Indian cities since October 2005. Many were expecting Delhi to be next target.
I first heard about the news in a text message from a friend in the States. I called a friend here in Dharamsala who filled me in on the details, and another in Delhi who put me at ease.
“Don’t worry,” said my friend in Delhi. “I’m on good terms with God.” I was comforted to hear him chuckle.
Bombs are scary enough when they are detonated in a city where I don’t know anyone. In 2001, I remember watching the US’s bombing of Baghdad on television, stunned that the government and military (and the news machine reporting it) could be so proud of something that was tearing apart human lives and families. I imagined how horrifying it must have been to live there that night.
When bombings happen in a city where I have friends and acquaintances, I worry. I know that the chances of my friends being in the vicinity of the bombs are slim, but there is a gnawing in the pit of my stomach until I can contact them. I remember how worried I was about my mum and her friend who were living in Bali when the second round of bombs exploded there, how my worries were expounded with every failed phone call. It was two entire days before I reached them, during which I couldn’t shake my fear. When I finally got through, my mum told me all mobile phone towers were shut down because the bombs had been detonated with a mobile phone.
Each time I hear of bombings, I wonder: what drives someone to want to kill others like that?
Pent up anger that festers the longer it’s contained. Political and social ostracization. Feeling unempowered. Religious differences. People all over the world have the same laundry list of grievances, including Tibetans.
However, Tibetans seem to be one case where such injustices have not led them to embrace anything so angry and violent – yet. Even in March, when the National Uprising Day protests turned “violent”, Tibetans’ anger was let loose predominantly on property – stores and goods were burned, cars overturned. The people who were injured were unintended victims – as in the case of the girls who were trapped in a Chinese store that was torched – or were Chinese soldiers. In my mind, violence against these soldiers who personally participate in perpetrating violence against Tibetans is somewhat rationally justified. They are attacking those who they see as guilty of attacking them. This is much more understandable than terrorist bombers targeting civilians who are not directly responsible for the violence or injustices committed against them.
Perhaps Tibetans’ avoidance of widespread violence is due to the pervasiveness of Buddhism and the notion of compassion within their society. Or perhaps it is because of Tibetans’ deep reverence for the Dalai Lama and his path of non-violence. Maybe this will all go out the window when His Holiness passes away. Maybe there will be stories of bomb explosions in Lhasa and key Chinese cities in the years to come. That will be a very sad day. I won’t condone violence then just because I am sympathetic to the Tibetans’ struggle.
I can understand that, strategically, there may be a time and place for some forms of violence – such as bombing important buildings or landmarks. But what is the strategic relevance of detonating bombs in a public place and killing innocent people? I fail to see how instilling fear achieves any goals, other than creating fear itself. This kind of violence only seems to rally people against the perpetrators, bonding them by a common sense of victimhood. Look at all the US has done in the last 7 years in the name of being a victim and protecting itself from further attacks – invading foreign countries, torturing whomever it deems a threat, cracking down on its own citizens’ freedoms.
I would like to believe that the world would be able to function without violence, that we could truly understand the adage, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” But I don’t think it’s possible. Violence and retaliation seem to be ingrained in the human psyche.
There is a lull now that the Olympics are over. The campaign we have been working on for more than 7 years is over, and no one seems to have much time or energy to prepare for what comes next.
Many of my friends and colleagues here are discouraged by how the Olympics played out in India. Unfortunately, internal politics within the NGOs seems to have kept anyone from doing anything really exciting. The typical protests and vigils that were held, were only organized at the very last minute and lacked any vision beyond fulfilling expectations of protests. For many here, the saving grace was SFT’s protests in Beijing – they are the only things people here seem to be proud of.
It seems as though we’ve come to a point where we all need a lot of introspection – on personal, organizational, and movement-wide levels. Introspection is difficult enough on a personal level, where people need to figure out where their abilities and skills are best suited, and if they can drum up the passion to continue at this time. I have a lot of friends who are looking for the next step in their lives, unsure of where it lies – myself included.
What is also needed now is introspection about the entire movement, how the NGOs work together (or not), and even how the NGOs operate internally. This kind of introspection will be most difficult because it could require that NGOs and the entire community be open to changing how things have been done for the last 50 years. SFT is preparing for our own debriefing and analysis, but it will be interesting to see whether we will be able to address our internal issues to make us as effective as we could possibly be.
My own personal slump is surely tainting how I see the movement right now. But I already feel a bit lighter being back in Dharamsala where others’ passion and drive always seem to rub off on me.
On August 15, SFT Canada held a protest in Ottawa along with the Tibetan Youth Congress and the Joint Action Committee. About 200 Tibetans and supporters from Toronto, Ottawa, and Montreal came together at Parliament Hill to listen to inspiring speeches by Tsering Lama (SFT Canada’s National Director), Salden Kunga (member of the JAC), Kelsang Palden (member of SFT and CTC), and Maude Cote (Board Member of SFT Canada).
Tsering’s speech reminded us all of how important it is to take action at this historical moment as China continues to brutally oppress Tibetans, even as the Olympic Games are going on. Maude spoke of her experience as part of a protest in Beijing on August 10th. Kelsang Palden delivered a great speech, which moved francophones in the group to tears.
After the speeches, we marched through downtown Ottawa to the United Nations building. Everyone stopped to watch us pass and eagerly took the flyers to find out what we were protesting about. As we marched to the Chinese embassy, we even picked up some supporters along the way who chanted along side us.
There were a lot of young Tibetans at the protest who tirelessly and loudly chanted the whole day. There were even two toddlers – future SFTers for sure! It was a long day, especially for the Toronto group who drove 6.5 hours each way to be there. But we definitely got our message across that China’s Olympics are not all fun and games.
Originally posted on the SFT Canada blog.
Sounding Board 