| Letter
From Lhasa, Page 4
Vanity Fair, May 1991 Print Friendly Verson |
|
The Great Fourteenth An old British hill station in Himachal Pradesh, India, 125 miles from the Tibet border, where the viceroy and his entourage summered in the heyday of the Raj, Dharamsala is now the seat of the Tibetan government in exile. A faint aura of the sixties hovers over the place. The flower children who hit the orphic trail to India in the late sixties and early seventies were among the first to discover Dharamsala and the Dalai Lama's message of global harmony through personal transformation. Hundreds of thousands never returned from the subcontinent (150,000 French alone, it is said), and, middle-aged now, they are part of the landscape like the Bakhtis, or Shiva seekers, and all the other indigenous varieties of wandering mendicant longhair. The Tibetan medicine clinic of Yeshi Donden, the Dalai Lama's former personal physician, was packed with emaciated, toothless old dharma bums. That there was an exile government that handles the problems of the refugees and is ready to return at a moment's notice should China collapse and the "liberators" leave was truly impressive, even though the inevitable court intrigues and power struggles had carried over from the ancient regime, the chain of access to His Holiness was jealously guarded, and, as Khandro Chazotsang, a woman in the Home Office in charge of the rehabilitation of new arrivals, told me, a "babuji element," the British-in fluenced clerk mentality that makes the Indian bureaucracy so impossible to deal with, had crept in. The seed money for the exile government came from the treasure brought out by the thousand-plus pack animals in 1950, stashed in a stable in Sikkim, and cashed for-accounts vary-$l million or $8 million. All Tibetan exiles everywhere (there is a sizable contingent in Switzerland, for instance) send contributions. The orphans at the Tibetan Children's Village above Macleod Ganj, run by one of the Dalai Lama's sisters, have individual sponsors. The Indian government gives relief, and there are some private Western donors. (Although it hasn't had a vogue the way the rain forest has, the Tibetan cause has ardent supporters ranging from Abe Rosenthal to Richard Gere.) The dollar goes a long way here. But there is no help from the United States government. In the beginning, America perceived that the Tibetan freedom movement could be useful in the war against Communism and backed it, as it did the contras and the mujahideen. Tibetan freedom fighters, kept in the dark about where they were going, were flown to Camp Hale, Colorado, where they were trained by the C.I.A. under utmost secrecy in techniques of guerrilla warfare, armed with the latest sophisticated equipment, and flown back to the plateau. But then, in 1971, Henry Kissinger advised Nixon to buddy up to Mao so they could work together against the Russians, and 'aid to the freedom movement was abruptly terminated. A pawn in a larger power game, Tibet as sacrificed. A vedon relates how the guerrillas were hunted down and, finally, sandwiched between Chinese and Nepali troops, slaughtered, and how their bravest leaders, ordered by the Dalai Lama to desist from violence, slit their own throats rather than disobey him.
George Bush was Nixon's envoy to the People's Republic, and he remains
its loyal fan. In 1977 he was taken to Lhasa and snowed by the Tibetan
Revolutionary Museum, below the Potala, where amputated hands of criminals,
flayed skin, implements of torture, human-thighbone trumpets monks
had blown, and evidence of other alleged atrocities of the "liberated Lamaist
feudal state" were on display. The State Department refused the Dalai
Lama visas in 1960 and 1977 for fear of upsetting the Chinese.
Finally, in 1979, he was let in, but to date no American president
has dared to shake his hand. The Soviet peril has subsided, but China still
contains a quarter of the world's market.
|