by Lena H. Sun

(International Herald Tribune, September 16, 1994)

LHASA, Tibet - Tibet's largest covered market is crammed with a wealth of goods unimaginable a decade ago. There are pigs' feet, frozen ducks and fresh vegetables galore: piles of sleek eggplant, gleaming chili peppers and thick bunches of Chinese string beans.

As shoppers make their purchases, one thing is striking. All of the vendors are ethnic Chinese. The Tibetan among them is an old woman, bent double, stuffing discarded turnip peelings into a hemp bag to feed her cows.

For Tibetans in this Himalayan region, the pecking order at the market is the result of an economic invasion by Chinese entrepreneurs. But while their presence has boosted commerce, it has soured race relations.

The resentment and bitterness sparked by the arrival of the Chinese traders represent a rise in the ethnic tensions that have troubled Tibet since its annexation by China 44 years ago.

If Chinese authorities "are perceived as not taking this seriously, they could be in for some serious trouble," a Western analyst said. "People could start to do some nasty things."

The foot soldiers of the invasion are restaurateurs from Sichuan, cabinetmakers from Zhejiang, even pickled-cabbage vendors from distant Liaoning.

Tibetans say the latest arrivals are taking the best jobs and forcing unemployed youth to turn to crime. The animosity by the Tibetans, in turn, is making longtime Chinese residents feel more bitter and frustrated.

Unlike the newcomers, many of these settled Chinese residents never wanted to be in Tibet. The Chinese government forced them, decades ago, to work in the government and serve in the army in order to consolidate Beijing's rule.

The friction is driving the two groups further apart at a time when cooperation between them is critical if Tibet, for centuries ruled by a theocracy of Buddhist nobles and monks, does not want to fall even more behind the rest of China, officials say.

"Relations in general are tense right now because of job resentment," said one young Tibetan intellectual. "Just look anywhere on the street. The Chinese take all the construction jobs. All the shoemakers you see on the sidewalk are from Zhejiang," a province on China's eastern coast.

Some Chinese say Tibetans have reacted by becoming prouder, more sensitive and fiercer about their traditions. And that has them scared.

A Chinese bureaucrat who has worked here for nearly 20 years and has many Tibetan friends said he was glad there were so many Chinese soldiers around. "The Tibetans might kill us all if things get worse," he said, referring to clashes in the late 1960s during the Cultural Revolution, when Tibetans killed some Chinese settlers.

Accurate figures for the ethnic breakdown of Tibet's population are difficult to obtain and are disputed by Chinese officials and the Tibetan exile community. Many Western analysts say the exile community's figures are highly exaggerated.

Tibet, with a population of 2.2 million, has an estimated 66,000 ethnic Chinese with permanent residence status, according to Chinese officials.

Not included are another 40,000 Chinese entrepreneurs who are part of an unofficial "floating population" and 40,000 to 65,000 soldiers and paramilitary police, putting the total Chinese population in Tibet at no more than 8 percent.

It is the recent influx of entrepreneurs that has triggered old animosities. The newcomers have come to seek their fortunes. Loosened controls over where Chinese can live and work have allowed laborers to flood the Lhasa area in the past few years. They often can earn double what they make at home, where there is more competition for jobs.

In Lhasa, about 50 percent of the population of 150,000 is now Chinese, longtime residents and Western analysts say. Ignorant of Tibetan Buddhist customs and habits, these newcomers often unwittingly offend the devoutly religious Tibetans, as well as longtime Chinese residents.

They often do not observe the practice of walking clockwise around temples and monasteries. And, to the horror of Tibetans, who believe dogs are the last reincarnation before rebirth as humans, some Chinese have caught and eaten a few of the mongrels that roam Lhasa's streets.

Chinese officials concede that more ethnic Chinese have come to Tibet in recent years. But they say they have been drawn by economic opportunity, not as part of a plan to displace the Tibetans, as the Tibetan exile community claims.

To be sure, many Tibetans admire the Chinese for their enterprise, while blaming their disadvantage on their cultural and historical differences.

Tibetans give freely to beggars and donate huge sums to temples in hopes of finding salvation in the next life. Tibetans don't save or invest their money and don't like to take risks, said a Tibetan government worker.

Two years ago, Chinese officials tried a grassroots campaign to teach the fundamentals of a market economy.

"They would say to these nomads, 'If you got eight yaks, what's the next best thing?'" a Western analyst recounted. "The nomads would say, "Nine vaks.' The Chinese would say, "No, sell a yak, than you get money. With money, you can build a house.'"

But to the average nomad, living 14,500 feet above sea level without running water or electricity in a climate where winter lasts nine months, the feeling was, "What's the point?" the analyst said.