Published by: World Tibet Network News 97/05/19 24:00 GMT

A jail term for a formerly trusted Tibetan official signals that China is

not going to take any prisoners in its battle against the Dalai Lama. And

time is on Beijing's side

By Matt Forney in Beijing

Far Eastern Economic Review

22 May 1997

Beijing thought it could trust Chatral Rinpoche. Although he was a

religious Tibetan with ties to the Dalai Lama, Tibet's exiled spiritual

leader, he also held a middling government post. In 1995, he was working

for senior leaders in Beijing to search for the reincarnation of the

Panchen Lama, Tibet's second-holiest figure. Observers hoped his work as a

go-between would help break a long deadlock in discussions between the

Dalai Lama and Beijing.

It didn't happen. Two years ago, Beijing arrested Chatral for sending a

secret missive to the Dalai Lama that obviated the communist government's

role in the search. In a closed trial to prevent leakage of "state

secrets," a Chinese court sentenced the 58-year-old lama to six years in

prison. Chatral, the court decided in early May, had "committed the crime

of splitting the country."

The sentence marked the end of Beijing's limited contact with the Dalai

Lama and underscored its programme to subjugate Tibet culturally as well

as politically. It has curtailed monastic activity, organized "patriotic

education" programmes in schools and cinemas and forged ahead with

infrastructure projects that will draw tens of thousands of Chinese

migrants. Most importantly, it is poised to control the underpinning of

Tibetan culture-its Buddhist pantheon-by controlling the selection of the

Dalai Lama's successor.

The Dalai Lama's effort to bring international pressure upon Beijing to

change its policies teeters on failure. "The inability of China and Tibet

to resolve their problems increases the risk that Tibetans will turn to

violence to pressure Beijing," says American Tibetologist Melvyn

Goldstein. "There were three bombings last year. If it escalates, radicals

could go from blowing up empty buildings at night to blowing up buses and

restaurants."

But even though Tibet is in serious danger of crisis, the chances of the

Dalai Lama and Beijing engaging each other are slim. The Dalai Lama's

camp is riven by factional struggles that have already turned violent. In

February, three confidants of the Dalai Lama were murdered-butchered,

really-in their beds in Dharmsala, the Indian hill town that is the seat

of the Dalai Lama's government-in-exile. The leading suspects are members

of a Tibetan sect who revile the Dalai Lama for religious reasons and for

his "soft" approach to Beijing.

Such events make Beijing deeply suspicious of the Nobel Peace Prize

winner's ability to ensure stability in Tibet even if the two sides could

agree on a compromise that would permit his return from 38 years abroad.

Chatral's perceived "betrayal," moreover, has convinced Beijing that only

firm communist leadership can quell a restive Tibet-even limited Tibetan

autonomy, it fears, would invite disaster. The government's oft-repeated

phrase is chillingly final: The struggle against the Dalai Lama is a

"long-term, bitter, complex, you-die-I-live political battle with no

possibility of compromise."

Despite the rhetoric, Beijing does allow a high degree of religious

freedom in Tibet. Individuals worship and make pilgrimages as they like,

and large religious festivals are increasingly common. Beijing does,

however, restrict the numbers of monks in monasteries, and recently

introduced a registration system that limits the number of monks visiting

Lhasa. Still, a monastic education is available. Beijing seems to

understand that overt religious oppression in Tibet would cause riots,

which would bring international condemnation.

One glaring exception is Beijing's treatment of the Panchen Lama. In

addition to his role as Tibet's second-highest "living Buddha," the

Panchen Lama identifies the Dalai Lama's reincarnation, and vice-versa.

Chatral Rinpoche's error, in Beijing's eyes, was to send a shortlist of

child candidates for Panchen Lama to the Dalai Lama in late 1995. The

Dalai Lama then announced his selection without counsel from Beijing.

Beijing's response was inflexible. It detained the six-year-old boy

chosen by the Dalai Lama; the boy now resides somewhere in Beijing as the

world's youngest religious prisoner. Beijing also denounced the Dalai

Lama's "political trickery" and it arranged the selection of a second

six-year-old last year. Tibetan religious leaders loyal to Beijing have

ordained the second boy, Gyaincain Norbu, and Beijing has forced senior

lamas to publicly express their acceptance of him.

If the Panchen Lama deal is as done as it seems, Beijing need do nothing

more than wait. The Dalai Lama is 62 years old. His health is good. But

when he leaves his temporal vessel behind, Beijing will control the

selection, rearing and political indoctrination of the next Dalai Lama.

Worse for exiled Tibetans, their divided house will lose its only pillar

of support. And Beijing will be more emboldened; indeed, its actions in

Tibet already show scant regard for international criticism.

"China is no longer concerned about the hearts and minds of ordinary

Tibetans," says a Western diplomat who follows the issue. "It used to

avoid large development projects, because people oppose them. Now, it's

begun 62." Those projects will mean a massive influx of Chinese

workers-and a further dilution of Tibetan culture. Already, some estimates

say half of Lhasa's population is Chinese, up from zero in 1949.

Beijing recently escalated its "patriotic education" campaign.

Monasteries now submit to "management committees," which teach patriotism.

"Cadres, young people and students are organized to visit the historic

sites" where Tibetans and Chinese fought the British in 1904, according to

a state radio report. As a result, the radio said, "cadres and people

rejected the absurd talk of the Dalai clique and the Western anti-China

forces."

The unity among Chinese and Tibetans in opposing foreign domination is a

constant theme in China's new propaganda. A film set for release, Red

River Valley, features an improbable paragon of virtue: a British

journalist. On the high plateau at the turn of the century, he falls in

love with a Tibetan woman. At the same time, a Chinese woman falls for a

Tibetan man. All locals fight together against Col. Younghusband and his

invading British, and all are slain. "Tibet is part of an even greater

land," the journalist concludes. "It will never yield."

The film is significant for several more reasons. First, all the major

Tibetan roles are played by Chinese actors. Producers and directors are

Chinese as well. Second, it will likely be released at the same time as a

Disney film on the life of the Dalai Lama, which China has denounced.

Third, it is receiving massive publicity. Minister of Radio, Film and

Television, Sun Jiazheng, endorsed it as "the best film I have seen since

taking my post."

Facing this onslaught, it is unclear to what extent the Dalai Lama is

willing, or able, to engage Beijing. Unless his international campaign to

pressure China shows greater results, and quickly, Tibet's cultural

integrity will be gravely threatened. One sign of hope: He has requested

permission to visit China's sacred mountain of Wutaishan, which is not in

Tibet. In 1989, he turned down an invitation to visit Beijing for the

Panchen Lama's funeral, largely because of opposition from his ministers.

Beijing, apparently, has not yet responded to his request. Like the Dalai

Lama's camp, the Chinese too are not of one mind on how to deal with the

Tibetans. The party's United Front Department, which is responsible for

promoting brotherhood among national minorities, is considered slightly

more willing to engage the Dalai Lama and to curb harsh political

repression in the Tibet Autonomous Region. Other leaders, however, "are

more Kissingerian," says a Western diplomat in Beijing. "They think that

the Dalai Lama is a pawn of the U.S. More progressive people see the Dalai

Lama as a charismatic guy with Western support, and think China needs a

policy to address that."

Right now, China's policy is to wait. The fear among people who want to

preserve Tibet's unique culture is that it no longer has a reason to do

anything else.