Monday, August 10, 2009

Be Cool—Be Tibetan

By Therang Buengu

In my life there have been a few rare occasions when I wished I were younger. Such futile sentiments are usually followed by a mixture of nostalgia and regret. Sitting now in a coffee shop, watching the Tibetan pop vocal group Yudruk perform Milam, I am struck by these feelings once again. I wish I were experiencing this as a younger man. I wish I had had the chance to be cool and be Tibetan when I was a young college student in Beijing.

In those days, I struggled to express who I wanted to be. Looking back, I can see that I was searching for a way to be “cool” and be Tibetan at the same time. Of course, back then, the term cool didn’t exist, either in Tibetan or Chinese. And whatever it was, “coolness” was the last thing associated with Tibetans in the Chinese imagination. As a young Tibetan who grew up in the Chinese education system, we didn’t yet know how to live outside Chinese imagination.

I still vividly remember my first journey into the Chinese heartland. In the barren city of Golmud in the Tsaidam desert, I had a conversation with my fellow Tibetan travelers—all freshmen headed to college— about how to be a Tibetan in this new land where we would spend the next four years. One student had already been to China as a soccer player. He told us that we needed to carry a Tibetan knife and act a little savage. For some reason, there happened to be an abundance of Tibetan knives to buy in the dusty market of Golmud. I think I was the only one who did not rush to buy a knife. I just couldn't picture myself with a big Tibetan knife dangling at my waist, swaggering around the Chinese capital.

I was dreaming of something else—of finding a way to be both Tibetan and modern.

But soon after we arrived, I found out that in China's national imagination there was no space for me to be both. Who I could be was already predetermined.

From the early days of China’s rule in Tibet, a dark and savage image of Tibetans was created and propagated: dark skinned, greasy, barbaric and in need of civilization and liberation. This image became widespread through the mute character Champa in the classic film Nongnu. As the story goes, when the People’s Liberation Army finally liberated Champa from his slave master, this man who hadn’t spoken for years cried out in gratitude, “Long live Chairman Mao!” That caricature not only became ingrained in China's national imagination, it also became an integral part of modern China's national narrative.

In fact, in the mad drama of contemporary China, there were only two sanctioned Tibetan characters scripted by the Party. We had the option of being either the pre-liberation savage or the post-liberation political sycophant, indebted to the Party for rescuing us from ourselves.

Most of us were too smart and too proud to play the post-liberation sycophant. So that left us with the role of savages. Back in Tibet, we tended to be quiet, mild-mannered, even nerdy students. But in China we became street fighters. We brawled in restaurants and beat up other students in school. Everyone pretended to be frightened of us and we pretended we were untamed wild men. We were Tibetan.

Meanwhile my dream of becoming a cool, modern Tibetan remained shrouded in the distance.

Nowadays, I understand that Tibetan college students in China have their own set of challenges in being Tibetan. But as the story of China becomes more diverse and complicated, Tibetans are also coming out from the shadow of the liberation narrative. There are now extraordinarily conflicting images of Tibetans settling into the Chinese mind. Now we are rioters, learned Buddhist scholars, corrupt party bosses, smart college kids, the best looking man in China, stubborn religious fanatics—and of course, we are also cool like the four young men of Yudruk.

The Yudruk phenomenon shows not only that Tibetans can be cool, but that it is cool to be Tibetan. This is a radical shift. But not only does it show a kind of Tibetanness that is on the cutting edge of cool. It also makes it clear that a Tibetan image can be created and exist entirely outside of the Chinese imagination. This is a kind of Tibetanness that was made by and for Tibetans.

Last night I had a beautiful dream,
I dreamed about Bod, the Land of Snow
Dream about five colors of the flowers bloomed
Dream about blue dragon land on grand

As I watch these intensely Tibetan and coolly hip young performers, I can see that they have a new audience in mind: other young Tibetans. They are no longer just trying to fit into the Chinese national story; instead they are creating their own.

It is a new cultural moment, and I am excited about what new possibilities this might offer young Tibetans. They are starting to have the chance to be many things and at same time still be Tibetan. Still at the same time, I also feel a tug of sadness for my own lost youth, wandering in the shadow of oppressive stories that I could not control and yet found hard to escape.

Watch Yudruk's Milam :
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Friday, January 9, 2009


Therang Buengu(特让苯股)







据西藏自治区主席向巴平措介绍,西藏自治区GDP 增长率在2008年可能达到10.1左右,他预测新的一年里,西藏的GDP可以继续以两位数增长。当然几乎在任何问题上,我想不出与这位官员有可能认同,不过我以为,如果你平时就相信西藏的社会经济统计数据的话,他的这个估测还是比较实际的。西藏自治区的经济,一直是依赖中央的大量补贴来带动并维持的。进一步地说,北京把大笔经费拨给西藏之后,其中大部分归于西藏各级官员,或投资在为他们而设置的各项服务行业,或投资于为他们记功叫好的各种“形象工程”。这种非自然的经济已经到了令人讽刺的地步,使一位英国的经济学家发现,西藏自治区政府的行政运作本身已变成推动西藏经济发展的引擎。在这种政治化的经济中,政治气候远比经济条件更重要,而在目前西藏的政治环境下,中央当然会继续盲目增加补贴,也因此,尽管中国面临经济萧条,但西藏的GDP 还会继续增长,这是可以预见的。











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Monday, January 5, 2009

From Wall Street to Barkhor Street

By Therang Buengu

It might be true that the beating of the wings of a butterfly can eventually cause storms on the other side of the earth. But in my memory, the storms of Wall Street have never before reached Lhasa’s Barkhor Street. But for better or worse, this time may be different.

No, I'm not talking about Wall Street's possible impact on those lachebas or "cadre class" (in Lhasa we generally call lachebas anyone who gets a salary from the state) who rushed to Shanghai and Shenzhen stock market over the past few years. Their money was long gone even before the current Wall Street crisis. Over a year ago, they may have been bragging during their daily mahjong games about how much money they had made. But these days no one is even allowed to talk about the stock prices in the nangmas (Tibetan-style nightclub) because the price of shares is so low it makes them depressed to even hear about it. All their profits and most of their original investments have evaporated. It is sad to see them these days, but that’s not what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the global economic downturn's possible impact on Tibet.

Global - China - Tibet

One thing is clear. The collapse on Wall Street has already had a major impact on China's export driven economy and therefore on potentially on China's political landscape. Recently at a dinner table, a prominent Chinese scholar told me that he, like many of his colleagues, thought a few months ago that this US financial crisis would be like Asia’s financial crisis. China might have to close down some factories in the south, and the central government might need to pump some more money into the market. But China would be able to weather the storm without facing serious challenges. However, "[i]t looks though this time it is going to be different," he said. How different remains unknown, therefore no one can really predict how Wall Street's drama will play out on Barkhor Street. These days, more than ever before, Tibet’s prospects seem mostly dependent on what China becomes. How China deals with this global economic crisis will determine what impact it will have on Barkhor Street.

Among the Chinese commentators, there is a wide range of views on what might take place if this global economic downturn drags China into a major economic crisis. Some think that as laid off workers stage demonstrations, unrest will spread throughout the nation. The Communist party will do what it knows best - tightening up politically and cracking down on any dissent. China might begin backtracking some of the progress it has made in the past three decades. Others believe that while the Beijing leadership will anxiously try to use its power to increase political control in a time of political and economic uncertainty, walking backward is no longer an option. If the economic crisis is prolonged, then finally it might induce the long awaited political reform in China. Still other Chinese commentators think that if this global economic crisis took place ten years ago, then China would be in serious trouble, but now that China's economy is large enough to take a blow, the effects will be painful but at least limited to the economy. In other words it won’t be painful enough to produce a political earthquake. Among them some even believe this is a historic opportunity for China to assert its economic and political power on the international stage while the West is weakened by the economic crisis. They hope the century old dream of China becoming a world power might finally be realized.

It is without question, a major political earthquake, whether China tightens up or liberalizes; whether it plunges into chaos or becomes the leading world power. All these scenarios will have a disproportionate effect on a politically hypersensitive place like Tibet. But at this moment it is hard to predict whether this economic downturn will turn into a political one or not. I think the dreams of China becoming a world power may still have to wait another long night. So let us stick to the things already taking place and see what they might mean for Tibet.

Two Economies in Two Orbits

According Champa Phuntsog, this year TAR's GDP is expected to grow 10.1. He forecasts that it will continue with double digit growth for the next year. Now I don’t particularly like to be in agreement with Champa Phuntsog on any issue, but if you go by the TAR's economic data in general, I think his assessment is about right. TAR's GDP has been mostly driven by Beijing's subsidies. The sea of money from Beijing is largely divided by the TAR officials or invested into the sector that will serve these officials or poured into some trophy project. So much so that as London-based economist Andrew Fisher put it: now the TAR's administration itself is the engine of TAR's economic growth. In this kind of politicized economy, political climate is more important than economic conditions. Given the current political environment in Tibet, Beijing will not only continue to senselessly pour money into Tibet, in fact it is most likely to increase. Therefore, TAR's GDP will continue to grow even as China faces economic hardship. Furthermore, to deal with the economic slowdown, the Chinese central government is already committed to a trillion yuan stimulation package and promises more to come. So far, the Chinese government intention is to use this money mainly on infrastructure projects, so more mega-projects along with more Chinese workers coming into Tibet is to be expected. The GDP most likely will continue to increase in the coming years.

Those lachebas, who have been gambling on the Shanghai stock market, already lost most of their money long before this economic crisis, so I don't expect to hear much of their cursing of the big Chinese investors who manipulate the market in the coming year. The rest of the Tibetan population has always been in a different economic orbit. The chance of Tibet’s subsistence economy intersecting with China's mainstream economic orbit is negligible. Therefore unless there is a natural disaster, the majority of Tibetan farmers and nomads wouldn’t notice much from this global economic downturn. But that doesn't mean that the global economic crisis wouldn't have any real impact on the Tibetan economy.

Tibet's Economy vs Tibetan Economy

To understand the current economy in Tibet, first we need to separate two concepts that people often perceive as one: the so-called “Tibet's economy” as often described in the Chinese official media; and the economic well being of the Tibetan people in Tibet which rarely people talk about in the public arena. These two things do overlap and intersect with each other, but they are not only not the same thing, but sometimes they are even diametrically opposed to each other. When you hear from Tibet Daily how quickly Tibet's economy is expanding, it might be true in one sense, but they in no way reflect the economic reality that matters most to Tibetans. What is good for Tibet's economy might not always be good for Tibetans.

Intersection of the Two Economies

As I said before, while the two economies are largely orbiting on two different paths, they do intersect and sometimes even overlap. The impact of this global economic crisis will be most visible in these gray areas. One of these overlapping areas is tourism. In the past few years, attracted by Tibet's ancient towns and cities, by the clean air and blue skies, tourism was boomed in Tibet as flocks of newly rich Chinese traveled to the region. In 2007 it reach to a new pitch with over four million visitors arrived in TAR. With the expectation of continued growth in the coming years, many Tibetans invested in new hotels and restaurants, while even poor villagers hoping to earn a fistful of cash led horses for annoying Chinese tourists. But with this year’s protests the government was the one that busted the boom by violently cracking down on the ground, while demonizing Tibetan culture and people through the airwaves. This year the number of tourist visits to the TAR was down almost 70 % from last year. These days hotels in Lhasa are putting out 70% - 80 % discount signs but few tourists seem interested in the enormous discounts. But if you talk to people who have much stake on the industry, they are still hoping this is a temporary setback. If some kind of stability returns, next year they can be back in business again.

But with the economic downturn both in China and globally, the outlook for tourism in Tibet is increasingly bleak even assuming the political atmosphere can return to the pre-March 2008 situation. These days, if the chilly scenes in China’s winter vacation meccas, Sanya and Sadam (Lijiang), are any indication of what to come, then next year the streets of Barkhor will not be jammed with Chinese tourists. The Implication for such a scenario for Tibet and Tibetans are complex. While for many Tibetans who economically depend on tourism this will be a huge disappointment, for many others who are anxious about the transformation of the holy city into an ugly Little Chengdu, this is may be a silver lining in this global economic crisis.

The majority of Tibetan farmers and nomads are still living in subsistence economies, just as they have for thousands of years. In some areas people depend on selling cordyceps and mushrooms. For those who doing credible business, it hasn’t been a good year and the coming year will most likely be evening harder. For the mushroom growing region, we have to see how badly the "Japanese housewives" are doing on their morning money exchange market - whether they still feel rich enough to indulge in exotic wild mushrooms from Tibet or not, or whether those Chinese middle men driven by the economic downturn in China will make them even more bloodthirsty to squeeze poor Tibetan farmers and nomads even harder than before. All the signs are not good but let us hope for the best.

Another direct impact of the economic crisis seems to be on the housing market in Tibet, especially in Lhasa. In the past few years booming real estate market in Lhasa has produced double digit price increases every year. Lured by the prospect of enormous profit, everyone who has a little money or the connection to get loans from the bank bought not only a home in which to live, but two, three, even four houses for investment. Being utterly new to the modern real estate business, Tibetans in Lhasa still don’t believe there is such a thing as a housing market downturn and price decline or even collapse. But I’m afraid that they are just about to learn a lesson in Economics 101. While housing prices in Lhasa remain stable, people who try to sell their extra houses will tell you they are no longer able to find buyers. In a mature market, everyone knows that supply exceeding demand is the first sign of a coming decline of housing prices. If this economic crisis, in combination with political instability, drives the housing market into a deep ditch in Lhasa, that will have a huge impact on Lhasa’s Tibetan cadre class.

Whether this Wall Street-led global economic crisis will force China to change its politics or not, the economic earthquake alone will make some Tibetans on Barkhor Street feel real tremors.

For better or worse, even economically, Tibet is no longer an isolated place.
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Friday, January 2, 2009














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Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Who Hacked Bi Hua’s Computer?

By Therang Buengu

After days of wondering why Bi Hua was abruptly removed from a key Tibet post in the United Front, I was struck by Hong Kong media reports attributing the unceremonious dismissal to the hacking of Bi Hua’s office computer and the subsequent loss of highly confidential documents concerning Tibet.

Bi Hua was formerly a rising star for Tibet policy in the United Front. A Tianjin Nankai University graduate, Bi Hua, 53, rose in the ranks under the tutelage of conservative strongman, Zhu Xiaoming, during the 1990s. She published a number of important commentary on Tibet under the pen name “Hua Zi” in the Chinese official press. But as the latest round of dialogue with the Dalai Lama's envoys began in 2002, the Central Government removed both Zhu and Bi from the agency. Bi Hua was appointed as one of the deputy heads of Beijing's Tibetology Center. More recently, she was transferred back to the United Front and promoted to the directorship of one of the bureaus in charge of Tibetan affairs. It was her long time dream post.

According to the Hong Kong publication Ming Bao, sources in Beijing claim that “Bi Hua's work computer has been intruded by ‘hackers’ and a large number of confidential document on Tibet policy has been stolen, leading to the major leakage of internal information on the central government's work in Tibet.” Ming Bao reports that the incident has “shocked the top leadership of the central government,” and even Hu Jintao has supposedly ordered an investigation.

If you are hoping to find out who hacked Bi Hua’s computer through this blogpost, then I must disappoint you. I not only do I not know who hacked Bi Hua’s computer, in fact I don’t know anyone who knows anything about hacking computers as such, let alone hacking a highly secured computer like Bi Hua’s. But I do know a thing or two about the culture of secrecy of those who handle China’s Tibet policy: it is a culture pervaded by an intense paranoia about forces—China's enemies—who are out there using Tibet to get them at any moment. That mentality may be the real “uninvited guest” (in Chinese hacker translates as heike, which literally means ‘black guest’).

Perhaps one important lesson from Bi Hua’s removal is that China’s greatest enemy is its very own paranoia.

The Chinese Communist Party from its infancy has been obsessed with secrecy and often paralyzed by its own paranoia. Don’t get me wrong. I do know that for political parties—whether underground revolutionary organizations or stable ruling parties of the state apparatus—a certain degree of confidentiality is vital. But throughout contemporary Chinese history, the intensity and extent of the CCP’s secrecy and paranoia have ruined many people’s lives and indeed led to the murder of countless innocent people. Of course, as China has embarked on a path of reform, the party organs and government operations have become relatively more transparent and less burdened by a bunker mentality. Yet the United Front has led the management of China’s Tibet policy in the opposite direction.

Among the many new Tibet related work units (danwei) that have been created over the past two decades, a disproportionate number of them are in one way or other engaged in secret operations. Look at Lhasa’s eastern area these days, where there is a range of high walled security related work units. Taken together, this area might be as big as the entire city of Lhasa during the Cultural Revolution. During the past twenty years, every Tibet related regional, provincial and national level agency built their own institutions to collect so-called overseas’ Tibet related information. At a one point I was naively hoping that through this massive information gathering, they might learn more about the Dalai Lama and better understand how the world community sees Tibet and China's policy. That might have helped them recognize their own idiocy.

Instead these institutions have become the key instruments through which to exaggerate and even outright fabricate evidence of the so-called “Dalai clique” and the western anti-China plot to create disturbances in China. It has now reached the point of a vicious cycle. These institutions now need to exaggerate and fabricate the threat of outside enemies in order to justify their enormous expenditure and promote their own important role in safeguarding China's social stability.

Most westerners are bewildered by what China has been doing in Tibet and by what China has been saying about Tibet and the Dalai Lama. It is a simple yet complex issue. If you have an intimate relationship with people working in these institutions, if you know something about their individual careers and lavish lifestyles—and in many cases their institution's very existence are integrally dependent on these perceptions—then these dynamics are simple to explain: they are acting in their own self interest, not what is in the interest of the society at large. But it is much harder to understand why they are able to continue to do this at the expense of ethnic tensions and the tarnishing of China's international image, which it seems they care so much about.

As long as China's top leadership and ruling elite don't have the courage to confront reality, those currently in charge of Tibet policy will have a powerful interest to continue their agenda of creating a bubble of fear around Tibet. I'm sure in the whole world only these people can tell you with a straight face that the recent unrest in Tibet was a creation of the Tibetan Youth Congress. It is in their vital interest to make these stories believable. And to prove their correctness, they not only destroy other lives, they themselves also, on occasion, inadvertently fall victims to this machine--one that was their own creation.

Bi Hua is an unlikely victim of China's Tibet policy. She too, it seems, has fallen prey to the forces of fear and paranoia around Tibet. Whether the sudden loss of her dream post was due to a hacker’s intrusion or simply her colleagues’ paranoia—most likely a combination of the two—it seems that she too has become a victim of the paranoid bunker mentality of China’s Tibet policy. As such, she is yet another one who has met a similar fate.

According to Ming Bao, Bi Hua has currently been "placed on probation within the party". That is, she has not been entirely removed from the party work unit. Bi Hua is a smart woman. She might one day crawl out of this ditch and return once more to a key position on Tibetan affairs within the United Front. In the meantime, I hope she is reflecting seriously on the consequences of the Tibet policy she helped build.
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Saturday, December 27, 2008

Mystery Man from Beijing

By Therang Buengu

As the upheavals of March settle into a new layer of memory, there are still a few things that linger in my mind. Among them, one still evokes in me a strange excitement every time I think about it. The mystery man from Beijing: who really is he?

In the first few days of the uprising, a person using the name of Jigme Namgyal started writing scathing articles in the Chinese language, critical of Beijing's Tibet policy. Within a few weeks, Jigme Namgyal published seven lengthy articles--a total of 30,000 or so characters. What profoundly impressed me was not the length and prolificness of his writings, but rather his intimate knowledge of Beijing's Tibet policy making circle , his intense frustration with the Beijing leadership's short sightedness on Tibet policy and his ability to express his thoughts and feelings--yes, feelings: this guy is not pretending he is a detached analyst--his articles are filled with anger, frustration and often bitter pessimism. Then at the end of May, just as he appeared suddenly out of the stormy sky, the mystery man from Beijing disappeared into the darkness of Beijing's insistence on a hardline policy on Tibet. We haven't seen his writing again. Still don't know who he or she is.

In the article entitled, "Let Our Dalai Lama Return Home", the author points out five reasons why China rejects the Dalai Lama's possible return. He then observes that "as long as CCP relies on this same irrational, inhuman, irresponsible and ineffective bunch of bureaucrats to continue managing Tibetan affairs, then the Dalai Lama will not be able to return home." In his eyes "time and time again [in not dealing with the Dalai Lama directly] China erroneously sows the seeds of ethnic and political crisis." He predicts that one day they will come back to hound the nation. In almost every line and sentence of his writing, we can feel his bitter frustration against the Chinese leadership's inability to see an alternative way to manage the Tibet issue and his outright anger against those bureaucrats whose selfishness and low IQ (di zhineng) who have been charged with this responsibility. Yet this mystery man from Beijing still holds out hope. He doesn't believe that the opportunity to resolve the Tibet issue has already "entered a an irreversible path of dead end" (西藏问题的解决已经进入了一个无可变更的死路也不竟然)". This, he believes, because it is China's interest to engage with Tibetans to resolve the issue.

In many of his articles, the mysterious man revisits the critical juncture in China's Tibet policy in the past, pointing out their political consequences in the present. To me, the most intriguing part is that when he is talking about those historical events, you can almost sense that this is not learned knowledge from books, but rather that he witnessed or even experienced them as a participant. He has in-depth understanding of Tibet under Mao's China, yet his language transcends the party phraseology to describe and analyze that tumultuous era (which is sadly not always the case--most people from that generation can't get away from using the Party language, even when criticizing the Party). Reading Jigme Namgyal's article is a rare treat. I can see the vast knowledge and experience of the older Tibetan generation, combined with the younger generation's contemporary worldview, new language and most importantly, newfound boldness and courage in his writing. This combination is a scarce commodity in contemporary writing on Tibet in the Chinese language, particularly from Tibetan authors.

We haven't seen this mysterious man's new writing for more than a half year. Yet my curiosity and desire to know this mysterious man is not only alive but grows ever more intense . Among friends, the question of the identity of the mysterious man continues to animate our conversations. Yet among all the many Tibetans we know in Beijing, those who fit in profile of this man's vast personal knowledge and have the ability to write them in the Chinese language doesn't fit the courage and passion of the author. That is precisely the most intriguing part of the story. In today's Tibetan elite, you never know what is alive deep in their hearts--who really possesses the passion and sometimes even have the courage to take enormous risks to express their sense of injustice and moral outrage against the current Tibetan predicament.

Whether this mysterious man is really living in Beijing--as he claims--or whether he is a Tibetan researcher who has been working on ethnic minority policy for many years--as he describes himself--we may never know. But I'd like to imagine that such a person exists: a Tibetan intellectual who is working on the inside the Party system, in public acting just like any other Tibetan cadre--overly cautious, obedient, most of the time blind to the suffering and humiliation that the majority of Tibetans endure--yet deep down in his heart carrying a fire of passion for Tibet that bursts forth in a time of crisis and tragedy.

Every time I think about this, I am moved.
15th December 2008, from home
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超过半年了,我们没有见到这位神秘人物发表新的文章。然而我的好奇感,与渴望认识这神秘人物的心情,不但未消失,反而更增加、更强烈。在朋友之间,有关这位神秘人物到底是谁的问题,还可以继续让我们的对话生动起来。然而在我知道的、在北京的藏人之中,符合像这位人物一样具有广博的知识、又有能力以中文写出来的人,在勇气与热情上却对不上这位作者。事实上这恰恰就是这个故事里的最令人深思的 - 在今日的藏人精英之中,你从来不知道他们内心深处还活着的是什么--谁真的拥有这样的热情,甚至是勇气,能够冒着危险,表达出他们对今日西藏困境的内心不平、与道德愤懑。


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