August 2008 | Himal Southasian

In March this year, an unprecedented series of demonstrations erupted across Tibet. 49 years after their country’s takeover by China and the escape of the Dalai Lama into exile, the Tibetans were united in their demands. They called for the return of their leader but more surprisingly, defiantly declared Tibet’s independence. Both the Chinese government and the exile establishment in Dharamsala were taken by surprise at the extent and passion of the uprising. China, predictably, blamed the insurrection on the Dalai Lama.

In an effort to counter China’s accusations, the Dalai Lama repeatedly reiterated his position; that he had given up asking for independence and only wanted ‘genuine autonomy’, and that he was not behind the demonstrations. During his first trip outside India after the troubles in Tibet, he met with a group of Chinese journalists in Seattle, and emphatically declared: “We are not seeking independence. We are happy to be a part of the People’s Republic ofChina.”

Earlier in the year, in January, during a visit to Drepung Monastery in the Tibetan refugee settlement of Mundgod in Karnataka, the Dalai Lama addressed a gathering of pilgrims from the Himalayan regions of Ladakh, Spiti, Kinnaur, Sikkim, Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh. He told them, “Should the culture and the people of Tibet, the Land of Snows, face a catastrophe, then the responsibility of preserving, at any cost, this world heritage, this pristine spiritual lineage of Tibet, which is in the tradition of the ancient university of Nalanda, will rest with you, the trans-Himalayan people living in free countries.”

These two statements of the Dalai Lama underpin the historic contradiction of Tibet’s relationship with her two giant neighbours: politically, China has always had more influence in her internal affairs, but culturally and spiritually, the Tibetans have always looked south, to India, the land of the Buddha, for inspiration and spiritual succour. Realpolitik demands that the Dalai Lama try and find some accommodation within the People’s Republic of China, but reality suggests that the long-term survival of Tibet’s spiritual traditions and political hopes may lie with India and the people of the trans-Himalayan regions.

The exodus of Tibetan refugees to India, Nepal and Bhutan following the Dalai Lama’s escape in March 1959 provoked a veritable religious renaissance in the areas where Tibetan Buddhism was traditionally practiced. One reason was the fact that the majority of Tibet’s senior lamas, representing all four sects, also came into exile. Another was the emphasis the Dalai Lama placed in rebuilding Tibet’s monastic tradition in exile. This experiment has been remarkably successful. For example, before 1959, Drepung Monastery was Tibet’s largest monastery but five decades of Chinese control have reduced it to a shadow of its former self. It is in its exile avatar in Mundgod that it continues to flourish, with over three thousand monks now in residence. The Dalai Lama’s visit there in January was to inaugurate a new assembly hall, probably the largest of its kind in the Tibetan Buddhist world. The monasteries in exile have become a beacon of learning and spiritual practice, attracting not only monks and nuns from the entire trans-Himalayan region, but also Tibetans escaping from Tibet, desperate to receive the religious education that is denied to them at home.

There are other reasons why Tibet’s future hopes may lie south of the border. Last year, China announced a new regulation, the so-called Order Number 5, which stipulated that henceforth, all reincarnate lamas would have to be approved by the state. This can only be interpreted as a pre-emptive move to ensure that China controls the next Dalai Lama. The Dalai Lama himself has said that if he dies in exile, he would definitely not be reincarnated under Chinese control. Most Tibetans take this to mean that he will be reborn among the diaspora, but this has also sparked speculation among his non-Tibetan followers, from the trans-Himalayan regions all the way to Mongolia and the Russian Buddhist republics of Buryatia and Kalmykia, that the next Dalai Lama might be born in their midst. And nor is this such a far-fetched notion; the fourth Dalai Lama was a Mongolian, and the sixth was born in the Mon Tawang region of what is now Arunachal Pradesh. As the most potent symbol of Tibet’s national identity, a Dalai Lama born as an Indian or a Nepalese or a Bhutanese citizen would dramatically affect the dynamics of China’s control of Tibet, and its relationship with its South Asian neighbours.

For the past 50 years, India has also been home to Tibet’s exile government. Although it has not been officially recognised by any country, it has functioned effectively as a parallel government and conducted an ongoing experiment in democracy. Most importantly, under the leadership of the Dalai Lama, it has kept the Tibet question alive and served as a symbol of hope for the majority of Tibetans who live under Chinese rule. If the government-in-exile can genuinely work towards fulfilling its democratic aspirations, it could remain an inspiration for the people of Tibet, even at a time when the present Dalai Lama is no longer there to lead it.

The seventh round of talks between the Dalai Lama’s representatives and the Chinese government recently ended in a stalemate with both sides demanding that the other show more sincerity. Meanwhile, China has stepped up its policies of religious and political repression in Tibet even as its colonial transformation of the plateau continues unabated. As Tibet’s very identity as a nation comes under threat, could it be that its traditional links with South Asia – links that have only deepened since its occupation by China – hold the key to its long-term survival?