“Since I was very young, I realised that the transformation of our governance into a democratic system was of utmost importance for Tibet’s immediate and long-term interest. Therefore, after taking responsibility as the spiritual and political leader of Tibet, I worked hard to establish such a democratic set-up in Tibet,” the Dalai Lama said recently. As soon as he went into exile in 1959, the Tibetan leader continued his efforts to democratise Tibetan society.
A few weeks earlier, addressing a large audience at the annual foundation day of the Tibetan Children’s Village in Dharamsala, the Dalai Lama declared that he had ‘given up’ on China: “It’s difficult to talk to those who don’t believe in truth (the Chinese). I still have faith in the Chinese people, but my faith in the Chinese government is thinning.” He added that despite pursuing the mutually beneficial Middle Way policy in dealing with China, there was no positive response from Beijing.
Watching a press conference held by the Dalai Lama’s envoys on the eve of the Special Meet to deliberate on Tibet’s future, it was clear that for the past 30 odd years, the main bottleneck of the ‘negotiations’ with Beijing has been the issue of democracy.
From the time of the first contacts between Beijing and Dharamsala in the early 1980s, the Chinese have insisted that they will speak only to the Dalai Lama’s representatives, while the Tibetans believe the envoys represent six million Tibetans around the world.
When they visited Beijing in November this year for talks, the envoys were reminded by Pema Trinley, executive vice-governor of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR), that they could not pretend to represent the people of Tibet.
Only officials appointed by Beijing had this prerogative.
The Chinese have consistently camped on their position. Whoever goes to Beijing is received (and it is always highlighted in the press communiqués), as ‘private’ representative of the Dalai Lama. As immediate consequence, the envoys have, for Beijing, no mandate to discuss a ‘special’ status for Tibet. Clearly, the Chinese and the Tibetans are not on the same wavelength.
The contacts between the two parties began in February 1979, when Gyalo Thondup, the Dalai Lama’s elder brother met Deng Xiaoping, the new PRC leader.
Deng told Thondup: “The door is open as long as we don’t speak about independence.
Everything else is negotiable”, but was the status of Tibet negotiable in his mind? Doubtful! Two years later, the Dalai Lama addressed a personal letter to the leader: “The time has come to apply, with a sense of urgency, our common wisdom in a spirit of tolerance and broad-mindedness in order to achieve genuine happiness for the Tibetans.” The answer of the Chinese government came indirectly in July 1981 through their embassy in Delhi. To the Dalai Lama’s consternation, it only mentioned his personal status and his future role, in case he came back to the ‘motherland’: “The Dalai Lama could enjoy the same political status and living conditions as he had before 1959.” This was not acceptable. The Tibetan leader wanted to “negotiate” the happiness and fate of his six million countrymen, not his own future.
In 1973, in his annual March 10 statement, the Dalai Lama had outlined his prime aspiration, “If the Tibetans in Tibet are truly happy under Chinese rule there is no reason for us here in exile to argue otherwise.” The basis of the ‘Middle Path’ was laid down in Strasbourg in June 1988 in front of the European Parliament when the Dalai Lama renounced independence and stated: “The whole of Tibet should become a self-governing democratic political entity founded on law by agreement of the people for common good and the protection of themselves and their environment, in association with the People’s Republic of China.” A ‘self-governing democratic political entity’ was not negotiable for communist China in 1988. It is still not palatable today.
After the return of Lodi Gyari, the Dalai Lama’s special envoy, earlier this month, his Chinese counterpart and vice minister of the United Front Works Department, Zhu Weiqun publicly stated that though the talks “were frank and sincere, the two sides had great divergence over China’s policy over Tibet”.
The ‘democratic process’ is certainly the most serious ‘divergence’, though for the past 20 years another accusation has been thrown at the Dalai Lama and his Administration in exile, splittism, one of the worse crimes for the People’s Republic of China.
Beijing has the impression that the demand for ‘genuine’ or ‘meaningful’ autonomy is only a first step towards ‘splitting the motherland’. The Chinese leadership believes that giving away Central control over the ‘nationalities’ areas such as Tibet, Mongolia or Xinjiang could bring about a dismemberment of the People’s Republic.
Du Qinglin, vice-chairman of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, one of Lodi Gyari’s interlocutors, told Xinhua News Agency that no ‘Tibet independence’, ‘half-independence’ or ‘covert independence’ would be tolerated.
The Chinese used the same words when the Dalai Lama presented his Strasbourg Proposal in June 1988.
But whether the Tibetans want ‘independence’ or follow the Middle Path it will not solve the issue of ‘democratisation’ of the society in China. It is a far tougher proposal.
For Beijing too the situation is not easy. The Chinese leadership needs to hold the ‘talks’ to show the international community that it is serious about sorting out the issue. But it sees the talks as an end in themselves, as a Chinese dissident put it: “They do not need any resolution, and do not want any resolution, just the process is enough. From the start, their objective was to prolong the process as long as possible.” Clearly a solution is not in sight.
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