A Mahatma for Tibet (February, 1983)
Mahatma Gandhi, as resurrected by Richard Attenborough and Ben Kingsley, was an unforgetable experience for many Tibetans, as indeed it was for thinking members of all other communities. The Father of the Indian Nation was very much a product of the British Raj in the sense that it is difficult to believe someone like him would have emerged here under any other circumstances. Inevitably, therefore, Tibetans find asking themselves—and find themselves being asked by others—why is it that Tibet under the Chinese rule has not produced a comparable figure.
The answer is really quite simple: the British imperialists and the Chinese communists belong to somewhat different species of mankind. In fact the question would not have arisen at all if people could refrain from lumping all colonialists into one bag. Very few people, and fewer still nations, are able to resist the temptation of availing themselves of other people’s properties if it did not involve all that much trouble. Thus Britain was able to gain India and other colonies; and China is able to gain Tibet and other colonies. Let us not forget that even Tibet in its time had made successful inroads into other people’s territories. So colonialism per se does not make the colonialists the baddies and their victims goodies; given the opportunity, the erstwhile victims in most cases will willingly try their own hand at the game. The attitude of the colonialist is the more important factor in determining the future course of events.
The struggle for Indian independence was born because of the ideas of equality and fair play that it’s Oxbridge-educated leaders picked up from their British mentors. It was resolutely carried till the end at the face of seemingly-impossible odds because its leader knew that sooner or later. London would have to yield. There was mass support for the movement in Britain itself. In the Whitehall as well as in the lower levels of administrative hierarchy the Indian freedom fighters were gaining more and more sympathisers. In India itself, leaders of the movement were able to lounge in gardens outside stately homes and discuss in pukka English the strategies for driving their conquerors out. These leaders were brought up free, comfortable surroundings; they were able to go whereever they wanted, get the kind of education they or their parents wanted them to.
Imagine such a situation in the People’s Republic ! Apart from slight relaxation in the last couple of years, there was no freedom of any kind in Tibet since the Chinese occupation. All Tibetans had to do manual labour during day time and attend political meetings in the evenings. All products of such labour, as well as anything else of value in the country, were carted off to China; and in return people received subsistence ration. Education—for the children of parents who could afford not to have them labouring alongside—consisted entirely of learning things the Chinese have chosen for them. Higher education in Peking—given to “deserving” students—only meant more of the same. Nobody could choose what and where they wanted to study and work. Any sign of dissension, one word of protest, and you became a reactionary, anti-people, imperialist(!) and many other things such multi-letter words can describe. This would of course be followed by suitable punishment.
There would be no question of fair trials or a counsel for defence. Public trials or “struggle sessions” meant the public summoned there had to criticise the defendant; if anybody spoke for him, it would be his own turn next to stand in the dock. Such incidents were not reported in free newspaper, if for no reason than that there is no such thing as a free newspaper in the country. Foreign correspondents were not allowed in—certainly not to cover these events. For a long time the only foreigners allowed in the country were those whose loyalty to the Socialist Paradise was not in question. Guided tours to showpiece monasteries, factories and schools, which is what their visits amounted to, were happily accepted as representating the true state of affairs. Additional information and statistics were supplied by the host. If they wished to meet an ‘ordinary’ Tibetan, one was instantly brought in front of them. If they wished to interview a member of the former ruling class, why, there is no problem. If they wanted an informal chat with a former ‘serf’ who has not been ‘elected’ chairman of something-or-other committee, all they had to do was say so.
How could a Gandhi, or even a lesser luminary, emerge in such as society? How can a Tibetan in Tibet give tongue-in-check replies to a Chinese official without risking immediate death or an indefinite term in prison? If he threatened to go on hunger strike wouldn’t the authorities just thank him for saving them a bullet or a valuable prison space? When we imagine such scenarios, we can almost be grateful that even by a freaky accident of nature there is no Mahatma in Tibet, I mean, what a shameful waste he would be!
Mahatma Gandhi, as resurrected by Richard Attenborough and Ben Kingsley, was an unforgetable experience for many Tibetans, as indeed it was for thinking members of all other communities. The Father of the Indian Nation was very much a product of the British Raj in the sense that it is difficult to believe someone like him would have emerged here under any other circumstances. Inevitably, therefore, Tibetans find asking themselves—and find themselves being asked by others—why is it that Tibet under the Chinese rule has not produced a comparable figure.
The answer is really quite simple: the British imperialists and the Chinese communists belong to somewhat different species of mankind. In fact the question would not have arisen at all if people could refrain from lumping all colonialists into one bag. Very few people, and fewer still nations, are able to resist the temptation of availing themselves of other people’s properties if it did not involve all that much trouble. Thus Britain was able to gain India and other colonies; and China is able to gain Tibet and other colonies. Let us not forget that even Tibet in its time had made successful inroads into other people’s territories. So colonialism per se does not make the colonialists the baddies and their victims goodies; given the opportunity, the erstwhile victims in most cases will willingly try their own hand at the game. The attitude of the colonialist is the more important factor in determining the future course of events.
The struggle for Indian independence was born because of the ideas of equality and fair play that it’s Oxbridge-educated leaders picked up from their British mentors. It was resolutely carried till the end at the face of seemingly-impossible odds because its leader knew that sooner or later. London would have to yield. There was mass support for the movement in Britain itself. In the Whitehall as well as in the lower levels of administrative hierarchy the Indian freedom fighters were gaining more and more sympathisers. In India itself, leaders of the movement were able to lounge in gardens outside stately homes and discuss in pukka English the strategies for driving their conquerors out. These leaders were brought up free, comfortable surroundings; they were able to go whereever they wanted, get the kind of education they or their parents wanted them to.
Imagine such a situation in the People’s Republic ! Apart from slight relaxation in the last couple of years, there was no freedom of any kind in Tibet since the Chinese occupation. All Tibetans had to do manual labour during day time and attend political meetings in the evenings. All products of such labour, as well as anything else of value in the country, were carted off to China; and in return people received subsistence ration. Education—for the children of parents who could afford not to have them labouring alongside—consisted entirely of learning things the Chinese have chosen for them. Higher education in Peking—given to “deserving” students—only meant more of the same. Nobody could choose what and where they wanted to study and work. Any sign of dissension, one word of protest, and you became a reactionary, anti-people, imperialist(!) and many other things such multi-letter words can describe. This would of course be followed by suitable punishment.
There would be no question of fair trials or a counsel for defence. Public trials or “struggle sessions” meant the public summoned there had to criticise the defendant; if anybody spoke for him, it would be his own turn next to stand in the dock. Such incidents were not reported in free newspaper, if for no reason than that there is no such thing as a free newspaper in the country. Foreign correspondents were not allowed in—certainly not to cover these events. For a long time the only foreigners allowed in the country were those whose loyalty to the Socialist Paradise was not in question. Guided tours to showpiece monasteries, factories and schools, which is what their visits amounted to, were happily accepted as representating the true state of affairs. Additional information and statistics were supplied by the host. If they wished to meet an ‘ordinary’ Tibetan, one was instantly brought in front of them. If they wished to interview a member of the former ruling class, why, there is no problem. If they wanted an informal chat with a former ‘serf’ who has not been ‘elected’ chairman of something-or-other committee, all they had to do was say so.
How could a Gandhi, or even a lesser luminary, emerge in such as society? How can a Tibetan in Tibet give tongue-in-check replies to a Chinese official without risking immediate death or an indefinite term in prison? If he threatened to go on hunger strike wouldn’t the authorities just thank him for saving them a bullet or a valuable prison space? When we imagine such scenarios, we can almost be grateful that even by a freaky accident of nature there is no Mahatma in Tibet, I mean, what a shameful waste he would be!
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