Tibetan Uprsing Day, March 10th

 

March 10^th, 2011, marked the 52^nd anniversary of the ‘Tibetan People’s Uprising’, an historical event that occurred in Tibet’s capital city, Lhasa, in 1959. The uprising was staged by Tibetans fueled by a wish to protect their Dalai Lama and their way of life from Communist China and its repression of their people and culture.

In the Indian town of Dharamsala, the current residence of the exiled 14^th Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government—as well as many Tibetans—the anniversary of this day is recognized by a speech made by the Dalai Lama, as well as a peaceful demonstration put on by Tibetans.

The 1959 Uprising: (On this day, 52 years ago)

One year after the Communist Party of China gained control of China in 1949, China claimed Tibet. The Chinese sort of showed up and were like, “hey so, you’re like, part of China and, just for the historical record, you always were, mm’kay?”  The Dalai Lama, being peace-oriented and clearly outmatched, hoped for autonomy despite being ruled by China. This did not happen. The Chinese imposed taxes and rule which the Tibetans resisted.  Armed conflict was reported, beginning in 1956.

According to the official website of the Tibetan Government in Exile (TGI), an invitation to attend a theatrical play had been arranged for the Dalai Lama from the Chinese in the days prior to the 1959 uprising. The invitation was one which the Dalai Lama felt necessary to accept for the sake of diplomacy, since relations between the Chinese and Tibetans were unstable. Worryingly, Chinese army officers visited the Dalai Lama’s head bodyguard the day before the performance, demanding that the Dalai Lama have neither armed escorts accompany him nor any public ceremony for the procession from his temple to the camp, contrary to tradition. However, the apparent secrecy the Chinese were seeking was not realized and paranoid rumors that the Chinese intended to arrest the Dalai Lama spread among the Tibetan people. The Dalai Lama recounts March 10^th in his autobiography, ‘Freedom in Exile’, saying, “people were pouring out of Lhasa and heading in our direction. They had decided to come and protect me from the Chinese. All morning their numbers grew. …By noon an estimated thirty thousand people had gathered” (p.145).  The Dalai Lama did not attend the performance; but the crowds of people outside the Norbulingka, the palace of the Dalai Lama, pissed off the Chinese who were threatening violence. Reasoning that the only way to disperse the crowds surrounding the palace was to not be in the palace any more, the Dalai Lama escaped to India and into exile, on the 17^th of March that year, a week after the crowd had gathered but not moved.

Unfortunately, this did not prevent violence.  Two days later, on the 19^th, the Chinese began to shell the Norbulingka, thereby initiating violent combat between the Tibetans and the Chinese. With Tibetan forces being inadequately armed and totally outnumbered, the conflict lasted only two days and resulted in the destruction of Lhasa’s major monasteries and the slaughtering of thousands of Tibetans, followed by looting and public executions of many monks, nuns, and any Tibetans found to be harboring weapons in their home.

A New Home, a New Tradition:

Many Tibetans followed the Dalai Lama into exile but due to impoverishment, treacherous trekking conditions over the mountains to India, and bullets from armed Chinese troops, many died. Those who survived to arrive in India were met with the immense job of establishing sustainable living conditions starting from scratch in a climate far different from their homeland. It was a desperate time.

On March 10^th of 1960, exactly one year after the uprising in Lhasa, the Dalai Lama spoke to a crowd of newly arrived exiles facing this immense challenge. In his autobiography, he says that in addressing his people he stressed the need “to take a long-term view…that our priority must be resettlement and the continuity of our cultural traditions. As to the future…with Truth, Justice and Courage as our weapons, we Tibetans would eventually prevail in regaining freedom for Tibet” (p. 175).  I wonder if he emphasized the word “eventually”.  

Since then, it has been an annual tradition for the Dalai Lama to give a public speech on March 10^th, a day they have come to know as ‘Tibetan People’s Uprising Day’.

During the 2008 Tibetan People’s Uprising day, peaceful protests put on by monks and nuns in Tibet provoked security measures by the Chinese and the situation quickly devolved into violence four days later. The TGI describes the Chinese crack down as “ruthless” and reports that 219 peaceful protestors died, with 5,600 under arrest or in detention, while another 1000 are missing. More protests occurred over the next months, it says, resulting in the Chinese further tightening their control over Tibetans; measures included sealing off monasteries, blocking cell phones and internet access, as well as making travel difficult or impossible for Tibetans. Chinese “patriotic education” intensified and foreign media was “completely barred from the TAR [Tibetan Autonomous Region], with the exception of a small number of closely monitored government organized trips”.

The TGI also says that of those arrested or put in detention many are reportedly committing suicide because of the harsh conditions and brutal punishment. Reports from those that survived describe physical abuse resulting in broken bones, starvation, and being pressured by the Chinese government to denounce the Dalai Lama and affirm faith in CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and socialism, instead. 

After 52 Years in Exile:

Though conditions have greatly improved for Tibetans living in India, many still only manage to eek out a living and many rely on charity. The culture and sense of unity of Tibetan people seems strong, nonetheless—at least to an outsider like myself.

In India’s Dharamsala the Dalai Lama still makes an annual appearance every March 10^th, addressing crowds of Tibetans—many of whom were born into exile and have no direct experience of their homeland. This year, besides speaking on China’s relationship with Tibet and the rest of the world, as well as the hope for a non-violent reconciliation resulting in “genuine autonomy for the Tibetan people within the PRC”, he also spoke of Tibetan political reforms, particularly an increase of democratic participation in politics for Tibetan people.

The political fabric of Tibetans in exile has been following the thread of democracy since 1960 and in the year 2000 the Dalai Lama announced that the position of the Kalon Tripa (Tibetan Prime Minster) would be filled according to election by the people rather than being appointed by himself or his officials.

In 2011, the weaving of democracy into Tibetan politics will be complete. “On March 14^th”, the Dalai Lama said, addressing his people, “I will formally propose the necessary amendments be made to the Charter for Tibetans in Exile, reflecting my decision to devolve my formal authority to the elected leader”. Functionally, this means that the position of ‘Dalai Lama’ will no longer be political.  He further assured audiences that the decision did not reflect a “wish to shirk responsibility”, but rather an attempt to “benefit Tibetans in the long run”. It remains to be seen whether the Tibetan people will allow their beloved leader to let go of his political power.

Immediately following the Dalai Lama’s speech, Tibetans put on a peaceful rally in Dharamsala, as is tradition. Crowds gathered outside the Tsuglagkhang (the Dalai Lama’s temple) to chant and do their annual march down to lower Dharamsala. People waved flags, painted their faces, held banners and signs, and came together in a spirit of unity despite dislocation. One Tibetan, dressed entirely in blue and holding a blank blue sign, represented missing Tibetans, particularly the 1000 Tibetans missing since 2008.

To fathom that a culture can survive 52 years of exile despite scarce resources and with major political reform to boot, as well as brutal repression in their own homeland, might be nearly beyond the imaginations of those of us who know of no such struggle. But the fervor of the rally and the people’s dedication to the Dalai Lama and a sense of cultural unity is the proof. To have witnessed it would lead one to believe that they were exiled just last year.

That said, my admittedly non-expert view is not a hopeful one.  China continues to grow as an economic power and fewer people internationally are taking up the cause of Tibet. Also, as Tibetans are spread further throughout the world, the culture does become increasingly dilute--as do the Tibetan genes, with mixed marriages and reproduction. 
I don't believe Tibet will be 'free' again. At best, they've won a moral victory but in terms of people getting what they want, I see it as just another example of peace losing, with phrases like 'free Tibet' becoming another logo to be consumed in niche markets of the commercial world.

Losar, 2011

Today, March 5^th, 2011, exiled Tibetans living in India’s Dharamsala began a 3-day celebration of their New Year—a holiday they call ‘Losar’.  It’s their biggest holiday. Welcome to the year 2138!

Today also marked the first time since leaving Korea that I was awoken by an alarm clock. In the cold, predawn darkness, I recalled dismally the robotic pattern of so-called ‘real life’, namely that work-a-day trance of inflexible schedules that will consume my life again after this vacation.

 

So…why does today mark the beginning of the year 2138?  Actually, it is also the year 1757 and the year 985, since Tibetan calendars have three different beginnings. 

According to the most popular system of notation (called ‘Bot Gyalo’), the first year of their calendar coincides with the ruling of the first king of Tibet, Nyatri Tsenpo, (in the year 127 BC by the Gregorian calendar), who ruled 2138 years ago. 

Another system of dating that pegs this year as 1757 begins with the 28^th king of Tibet. Lastly, there is also a Tibetan system called ‘rab lo’ that cyclically uses both the animals of the Chinese zodiac and the Indian elements of fire, earth, iron, water and wood. This system was Tibet’s first system for counting years and began in the year 1027 AD (according to the Gregorian Calendar), consequently making now the year 985, the year of the iron rabbit.

Under the inky blackness of a moonless sky and directed by only a flashlight’s narrow beam I ascended a long crumbling set of concrete and muddied stairs, alongside which the hissing of exposed plumbing was like an angry snake. But not until reaching the road above did I actually become nervous. Usually teeming with people and vehicles, now it was eerily silent, empty and dead dark except for shifty shadows in the alleyways that were nothing but stray dogs without rabies, I told myself.  It was a long 10 minute walk to Tsuglagkhang (pronounced 'Tsuglagkhang'), the town’s main temple belonging to 14^th Dalai Lama where festivities were to be held early today.  I kept wondering why the streets were so empty.

Upon reaching the temple gates, I felt safe and stupid. Stupid because I was an hour and a half early with nothing to eat and no caffeine inside me. I calculated how many more minutes of sleep I could have claimed. Futile, I know.

By around 6:30AM, a sun without warmth was finally creeping over the eastern Himalayan foothills, casting long shadows in this concrete temple which, for the most part, lacked walls. People began trickling in, many ritualistically circumambulating the temple clockwise, spinning prayer wheels and humming mantras.  Since it is part of Tibetan tradition to receive a new piece of clothing for the New Year (called a ‘chuba’), the Tibetan people were beautifully dressed in their new gifts, often silk dresses of exquisite design and rich color. I, in my broken shoes and muddied pants and Caucasian skin, felt out of place—a feeling that I barely notice anymore.

But nothing about anything was particularly photo-worthy. Dutifully, I worried about the publication I was to do for Rogpa, a charitable organization that wanted from me a Losar story with photos for their Korean newsletter. I found myself propping my camera against the cloudy windows of a walled off little room where countless butter candles were being lit. It was this or the people walking in circles…

 

Then something occurred to me.  That I’m a Canadian, in India, writing for a Korean publication, about Tibetans celebrating their New Year, is a fact that testifies to how small the global village is becoming. The temporal bewilderment of it all must speak to something else; it is simultaneously the years 2138, 1757, 985, and 2011,plus I was celebrating the third New Year this year—one during each month of 2011, so far. The first on January 1^st, the second during February in Korea (Korea has its own New Year), and now Losar, in March. If I go north to Nepal, I can celebrate their new year too, in April.  Space and time: they just ain’t what they used to be. . .

It wasn’t until 7 AM that something happened. Ceremonial horns emanated deeply from upstairs where few were allowed entrance to the hour-long consultation with the Nechung oracle as well as offerings to and invocation of the protector goddess of Tibet, Palden Lhamo, by the monks of the Namgyal monastery. The ceremonial horns didn’t seem to be attempting music, exactly; rather, they were punctuating the prayers—a blow of a horn stood in for a comma here, a paragraph break there. The low, drawn-out honks sounded like heavy furniture being moved.  I wasn’t allowed up to watch.

By the time this finished, the crowds were thick and those that were ritually circling the temple often became stuck in pedestrian jams. Most others got seated around the main altar room where decorated monks of the Namgyal monestary chanted prayers for a long, auspicious life of the Dalai Lama. Unbelievably deep and baritone, the monks chanted in a way that reverberated at the depths of my bowels like the growl of a Harley Davidson or the colon-rattling protests at poorly digested chili. A clash of cymbals and a short blow on a conch shell could be heard between each short prayer—more audible punctuation. The cymbals sounded like an exclamation point and I bemused myself by wondering how they would make a question mark sound? 

Following the chants, two of the highest ranking monks of the Geluk monastery debated Tibetan Buddhist philosophy with one another while another monk distributed rice into the open hands of the hungry crowd. Since they debated in Tibetan, I understood nothing. I wondered how many Tibetans could really understood… … Tibetan Buddhism can be abstract, subtle and dry (and wrong, in my opinion).

A ritual dance of good wishes was then staged by four colorfully dressed young men with swords. This dance, called ‘gar’, is performed only on Losar.

After this, the two scholarly monks debated once more, an act which closed the prayer ceremony.  I went home, ate chocolate pancakes, drank hot chai tea, and slept. Best part of my day, it was.

Interesting Factoids about the Tibetan Culture and Losar:

- Tibetans use a lunisolar calendar. This means that the duration of each month is calculated by the position of the moon, making them shorter than solar months. A 12 month year, then, is only 354~355 days. Consequently, an extra month is added every few years to compensate for the shorter years. The year that just ended consisted of 13 months.

- Oracles and predictions are important to both Buddhists and the government, in Tibet, and a consultation with the Nechung oracle is an annual tradition. This is also reflected, to a lesser extent ceremonially, by Tibetan folk tradition. Every Losar, it is custom to eat a dumpling with a secret ingredient inside, which is supposed to light-heartedly comment on the year ahead. To find a chilly in one’s dumpling signifies that the eater has a hot temper and a sharp tongue. Butter represents a soft heart, while coal represents a black heart. Anything white represents purity, etc. This is usually a source of amusement and even playful teasing. 

- Tibetans celebrate not only the beginning of a new year, but also the end of the old year. One way they do this is by a ritual called 'zor tarma', carried out during the days before Losar. For this folk rite, a sacrificial cake is made with kneaded dough, sometimes containing bits of clothing from the family's wardrobe.  The cake is then burnt as an offering to the spirits at some secluded place. Sometimes the cake is blasted with fireworks, which, in Dharamsala, could be heard exploding like bombs and echoing  thunderously off the snow-capped Dhauladhar mountains. Cleansing then done, they don't look back as they return home--thereby banishing yesteryear's misfortunes and ill-karma.

Perspective in Little Tibet

Christians who flock to Jerusalem or Buddhists to Varanasi or Elvis fans to his birthplace in Tupelo, Mississippi, these are people who I used to not get.

Spatial proximity to an idol or sacred location, I thought, was totally irrelevant, if it's not directly connected to some advice, instruction, or at least entertainment. It's just a little emotional lift, like eating a hot chili pepper but more expensive.

Waiting for the Dalai Lama

I suppose I've come to acknowledge some sort of strange magic in it, in proximity.

When I first saw my own idol, Slash, he played live and transformed before my eyes from a Guitar-God forged of pure Awesomeness into a talented flesh and blood human--probably somebody who spent many hours practicing alone in a room, like me.   

Likewise, a week ago, when I saw the Dalai Lama drive by in his car, escorted by police and welcomed by a crowd of deep-bowing, well-wishers and clouds of incense, he transformed from a fuzzy concept in my head into some dude in a car who attracted a lot of friggin attention.  

A pretty crappy picture of the Dalai Lama, seated on the far left.

Of course, I'd previously been aware of his being a religious celebrity but I suddenly had the burning question: Why him and not this monk to the left who stood waiting in the cold to catch a glimpse? He looks like he could use a little attention.

What makes the man in the car into THE DALAI FRIGGIN LAMA? 

Well, it's really an interesting story that stretches the boundaries of plausibility for most western minds, I think.

Here's one thread of this wooly narrative:

Once upon a time (2500 years ago) there was a warrior prince in India, a land where people were divided by caste and the prince was of the highest. He was, from birth, groomed to lead combat and live in opulence.  But, as he matured into young adulthood, he traveled his land and was devastated by the suffering of the lower castes that his palace existence had sheltered him from. 

He renounced his wealth and wandered his land trying many spiritual practices, including the most ascetic. But the suffering in his heart remained.  He finally sat himself beneath a Bodhi tree, waiting, concentrating on compassion, feeding on insects and leaves, until one day, he was Enlightened.

This man, whose name was Siddhartha, was given the title Buddha. And he gave sermons to spread his teachings. And his teachings became known as Dharma.

Included in Dharma is the doctrine of reincarnation and karma: life follows death follows life follows death, ad infinitum.  Karma, constituted by the life-time actions of a sentient being, dictates--sort of as a natural law, like gravity--what life form you will take after you die.

During one's lifetime(s), spiritual tasks, rituals, prayers and deeds might lead one eventually to Enlightenment, which frees one from karma, from desire, from suffering, and therefore from the chain of endless rebirth.

However, an Enlightened being does not selfishly rejoice; rather s/he chooses to be reborn into the material world of suffering beings after his/her death. S/he does this with the sole purpose of bringing others to Enlightenment. Such beings are called Bodhisattvas of Compassion--Enlightened beings willfully reincarnated into our world to annihilate our karma--and they live among us in this story.

About a thousand years after the Buddha achieved his Enlightenment, there was a man named Songtsen Gampo who ruled Tibet, which was a warring nation that had claimed much territory, including large areas of China (ironically), Nepal and Mongolia. In the 7th century, this Tibetan King took two wives, one from Nepal and the other from China. Both wives were Buddhist and began planting the seeds of Dharma within him, and the seeds germinated in the government, eventually taking root in the whole country. Temples were built, scholars were invited, Buddhist education was implemented, and the warring nation of Tibet put down its swords and became peaceful.

As these Buddhist schools became increasingly developed and the monks more judicious in their studies and determined in their spiritual pursuit, an epiphany occurred to them. Likely their dead ancestors--also having been highly evolved spiritual monks and scholars and certainly Bodhisattvas--must be choosing to reincarnate around them as humans, to further the teaching of Dharma.  Thus began, around the great Tibetan schools of Buddhism, the idea of a 'tulku', a Buddhist teacher (that is, a 'lama') who, after dying, reincarnates into a human form again in Tibet to Enlighten students of Dharam. Thus, when one tulku died, a search began for the reincarnation within relative close proximity (there's that magical proximity, again); the search includes oracular consultations, and identifying the tulku by careful study of the behavior of young candidates born shortly after the tulku's death. Upon identification, this child would inherit all he had accumulated in his previous life.

Among the many great schools and temples was one called the Gelug school of Buddhism, founded in the late 1300's ~ early 1400's by one of the greatest Tibetan Buddhist scholars, Je Tsongkhapa. This was the most important of all schools.The head "lama" (teacher of Buddhist doctrine) of this school was a spiritual leader for Tibet. When the head of this school, who also was a tulku, died, a search began for his reincarnation. They found him, and he became the 2nd 'head lama' of the great Gelug school.

The 3rd head lama of this school was a highly evolved monk named Sonam Gyatso among whose achievements was his teaching the Mongolian King about Buddhism, and thus converting the Mongol. Gyatso means 'ocean', which in Mongolian is 'dalai'. Hence the title "Dalai Lama", which from then on was reserved for the head of this influential Buddhist school.  The title was then applied, retrospectively, to the two former lamas.  So Sonam Gyatso was the third "Dalai Lama", a title reserved for just one being, reincarnated over and over again for the sole reason of annihilating karma.

The 5th Dalia Lama,Lopsang Gyatso, became--in addition to Tibet's spiritual leader--also the administrative ruler, and the chief political administrators of Tibet, from the 17th century onward, have been the Dalai Lama, and the commoners have happily been led him and the monks ever since.
After the death of the 13th Dalai Lama, the 14th Dalai Lama was finally located--after 4 years of searching--in the East of Tibet as a young babe living at a modest mountain farm. During the lifetime of this Dalai Lama in the mid 20th century, a neighboring country called China, quickly becoming a global superpower, producer of knick-knacks and complete worldwide asshole, claimed Tibet as one of its territories. The peace-loving Dalai Lama tried to accommodate their new master, but the brutal tyrant used torture, imprisonment, genocide and propaganda in a (failed) effort to secularize the Tibetan people into a materially productive hive of consumer/worker drones.  With lives threatened, the Dalai Lama and many others were forced to escape into India, into exile, back to the same nation where Buddhism had begun, with Siddhartha under the Bodhi tree. There, they began to re-establish their temples, schools, medical clinics and government in various areas of India, particularly in Dharamsala, mountainous as it was an thus, reminiscent of their stolen home, Tibet.  

Among the tasks of the 14th Dalai Lama is spreading not only Dharma, but also furthering the cause of freeing Tibet, now a police state with a quickly deteriorating environment, from Chinese rule. But despite his busy schedules, he regularly returns to his people and residence in Dharamsala, India, to give teachings. One spring in the early 21st century, on route to his residence in exile, this Dalai Lama was driven within a certain proximity of a person who wrote a long-winded blog about it.