But, in truth, the absence of the Dalai Lama would not altogether be a bad thing for Tibetan politics. Yes, His Holiness is the draw for much of the international publicity showered on the Tibetan cause, but this attention does little to advance Tibetan national interests. Most leaders in the developed world assuage their consciences by praising the man and his noble mission, all the while ignoring the Tibetan question in their policies. Against such warm indifference, the Dalai Lama’s calculation-that by surrendering independence to Beijing he might arrive at an accommodation with Chinese leaders-seems increasingly forlorn.
The Dalai Lama’s presence in Tibetan political life is much like the giant banyan tree, under whose shade little can grow. Tibetan ministers give the appearance of being no more than messenger boys, and members of Parliament fall over each other in their eagerness to agree with him. The Dalai Lama himself has remarked on the dilemma of his omniscient leadership but has done little to resolve it. But his absence might be just the thing that allows mature democratic institutions to take root. To be sure, without His Holiness’s presence there is danger of dissension within refugee society. But exiled Tibetans already have a half century of experience in the rough-and-tumble of India’s robust democracy. Surely they are ready for their own.
The transformation of Dharamsala’s court politics into a genuinely democratic forum would have a profound impact on Tibet’s struggle for freedom. Today, Tibetans’ faith in the Dalai Lama is as strong as their resentment of Chinese rule, but little else is clear. The success of the democratic experiment in exile would represent a sincere hope for Tibet’s political future, and offer the best rebuttal to Beijing’s propaganda that Tibetan independence will equal a return to theocratic feudalism.
Tibetans genuinely love the Dalai Lama, but his lofty ideas on world peace probably find more supporters in California than in Tibet. Tibetans most wish to witness two events: the return of their homeland and the Dalai Lama once again in the Potala Palace. There is no doubt–at least to this observer–that, given half a chance, they are prepared to do whatever is necessary to realize this dream. Unfortunately, there seems to be a cognitive dissonance between the leader and his people. Take, for example, the March 10 rally honoring the 1959 Tibetan uprising, held in Dharamsala each year. In his speeches on this occasion, the Dalai Lama has patiently spelled out his policy of “constructive engagement” with China. He carefully explains why relinquishing independence may be Tibet’s best bid for autonomy within China. And the Tibetans in the crowd are enormously respectful toward their speaker. But after His Holiness concludes, the people always march away waving banners and lustily shouting, “Independence for Tibet”–as if they hadn’t heard a word he said. Clearly they are still of two minds.
It may be too early to speculate on a post-Dalai Lama period. He has assured Tibetans that he intends to live to a ripe old age and even jokes that he may be “quite a handful, a real feisty old geezer.” With so much energy and spirit, perhaps he can begin to accomplish in life what many fear can happen only after his death.
