The death of the 13th Dalai Lama in December 1933 led to a bloody struggle
for power. The 14th Dalai Lama, known as Tenzin Gyatso, was eventually
enthroned in February 1940, and grew up largely oblivious to the political
machinations that were going on around him. All that was about to change,
however.
In October 1949, Mao Tse-tung's Communist Party swept to power in China. One
of Mao's first announcements made clear that the “peaceful liberation” of
Tibet would be a priority for the new regime.
By July 1950, the People's Liberation Army (PLA) had advanced to within 100
miles of Chamdo, the capital of Kham (eastern Tibet). The first serious
engagement between the two sides, at Dengo, was technically a victory for
the Tibetans. But if the Chinese army in the area was only 20,000- strong -
against the Tibetans' 5,000 - a further 5m men under arms stood behind them.
The eventual result was a foregone conclusion.
On October 5, the PLA launched a full-scale attack on Chamdo itself. Ngabo,
the ineffectual aristocrat governor of Kham, sent several urgent telegrams
to Lhasa [the Tibetan capital] requesting instructions. There was no reply.
On 15 October, one of his aides de camp succeeded in contacting Lhasa by
radio. He was told that although his telegrams had been received, they had
yet to be decoded as the Kashag [government of ministers] was currently
engaged in its annual week-long series of picnic parties. It was now clear
that Ngabo faced the might of the PLA alone. Two days later, he was given
permission to retreat. On 19 October, he was captured and all Kham fell into
Chinese hands.
There now began a period of intense uncertainty for the Tibetans. The Chinese
were in a position to launch an assault on Lhasa; however, the Communists
were committed to taking over Tibet peacefully. This was supposed to be a
“liberation”, after all. Meanwhile, the state oracles made clear that now
was the time for Tenzin Gyatso to be invested with temporal authority.
Though still only 16 years old and quite unprepared, Tenzin Gyatso had no
option but to accept.
Having announced the 14th Dalai Lama's accession, the Ganden Phodrang [Tibetan
government] hurriedly petitioned Britain, the United States and India to
intervene with China on Tibet's behalf. It also appealed to the United
Nations for support. All four initiatives came to nothing. The government
therefore made preparations to remove the Dalai Lama to southern Tibet,
close to the Sikkimese border. He arrived at Dromoin early January 1951.
There now began further intense debate over the wisdom of the Dalai Lama
seeking political asylum abroad. Backed by El Salvador, which took an
unlikely interest in Tibet, the government made a second attempt to raise
the Tibetan crisis with the United Nations. The initiative failed, but it
did at least prompt the United States to review its stance towards Tibet.
Now, the Americans began to think that if the Tibetan leader could be
persuaded to refuse to negotiate with China, it might be worth backing him
as a way of halting the dangerous spread of Communism. The US Embassy in
India, meanwhile, started making overtures to Tenzin Gyatso via his brother
Taktser Rinpoche. Having sought out the American ambassador on his own
initiative, Taktser Rinpoche was a leading advocate of asylum and
resistance.
To begin with, Tenzin Gyatso was minded to take his brother's advice. The
majority of his officials were, however, against this course of action. For
several months the Tibetans prevaricated. Eventually Ngabo, the ex-governor
of Kham, since released from captivity, was instructed to proceed to Beijing
in order to conduct negotiations with the Communist government.
The talks centred on a document now known as the Seventeen-Point Agreement.
Its first paragraph stated that the “Tibetan people shall unite and drive
out imperialist aggressive forces in Tibet: the Tibetan people shall return
to the big family of the Motherland - the People's Republic of China”.
Surprisingly, while this clearly signalled the subjugation of Tibet to
China, Ngabo was satisfied that the rest of the document provided for the
continued existence of the Ganden Phodrang, the monasteries and the landed
aristocracy. He therefore agreed to China's terms. He did not, however, have
authority to sign the agreement, nor did he have with him the relevant seals
of state. But the Chinese overcame the lack of seals by manufacturing new
ones, to which Ngabo and his fellow delegates were invited to attach their
signatures. They did not refuse and Tibet formally became a part of the
People's Republic of China. The Dalai Lama himself heard the news three days
later, over a crackly radio broadcast.
It was at this point that the US began seriously to woo the Dalai Lama. If he
would repudiate the agreement, America would supply both military and
financial assistance. It would also facilitate the young hierarch's exile.
But deciding against the offer, the Tibetan government agreed that the Dalai
Lama would meet with Chinese officials in Dromo and then return to Lhasa. On
October 24, 1951, Tenzin Gyatso formally assented to the capitulation of
Tibet by sending a telegram accepting the terms of the Seventeen-Point
Agreement directly to Chairman Mao.
There now began a seven-and-a-half-year period during which the Dalai Lama
sought to find a workable compromise with the Chinese. At first, there
seemed grounds for optimism. The Chinese troops, who arrived in the capital
with great fanfare, proved well disciplined and respectful towards the
Tibetans. Moreover, they took nothing without overpaying for it. This
financial largesse was quickly exploited by the aristocracy, in whose hands
lay most of the country's trade. Nonetheless, popular feeling gradually
began to harden. And inflation, previously unknown, caused the price of
basic commodities to spiral.
During the height of this honeymoon period, the Chinese central government had
issued an invitation to the Dalai Lama to visit China. Greatly to the
consternation of the people, who feared that he would be detained there,
Tenzin Gyatso accepted. He felt that if he could meet the Chinese
leadership, he might be able to influence their thinking on Tibet.
Travelling part of the way along the road that the Communists were building,
with extraordinary rapidity, between China and Tibet, the Dalai Lama arrived
in Beijing during 1954. His optimism seemed vindicated when he had the first
of several interviews with Chairman Mao, who seemed both sincere and
sympathetic towards Tibet. The Dalai Lama and his countrymen were then taken
on a propaganda tour of China and shown the full extent of the Communist
technological revolution. At the same time, Tenzin Gyatso received private
instruction in Marxist ideology. Enthused, the young leader began to
consider a possible alliance between Communism and Buddhism. The former
would look to supplying people's material needs, the latter to its spiritual
needs. That this was naively optimistic was made clear when he had his final
interview with Mao. Apparently mistaking the young man's enthusiasm for
modernity as a sign that he was less than fully committed to his faith, Mao
began to give Tenzin Gyatso some friendly advice. His concluding remarks
were to the effect that “religion is poison”.
Back in Tibet, to which the Dalai Lama returned during the summer of 1955, it
became clear that Chinese Communism entailed attacking the very foundations
of the Tibetan way of life. At first, the evidence was anecdotal. Then, in
1956, the PLA launched an aerial bombardment of Lithang, the monastery
founded by the Third Dalai Lama. The Chinese justified the attack on the
grounds that the monastery was supporting the attempts of local tribesmen to
resist them. In retaliation, the Communists also conducted horrific public
exhibitions of their might, forcing monks and nuns to break their vows of
celibacy and even to kill people. Although Tenzin Gyatso protested by
writing directly to Chairman Mao, successive letters went unanswered.
The Dalai Lama now began actively to consider repudiating the Seventeen-Point
Agreement and seeking asylum abroad, preferably in India. An opportunity
presented itself the following year when he was unexpectedly given
permission by the Chinese to travel to India to attend the Buddhajayanti
celebrations marking the 2,500-year anniversary of the birth of the Buddha.
This enabled him to meet with Pandit Nehru, the Indian prime minister, and
to see for himself whether there was any hope of Indian support. But while
making clear that he would not refuse a request for asylum, Nehru was
adamant the Dalai Lama should return to Tibet and try to salvage the
situation.
The Americans again made contact with offers of support - having already begun
secretly to arm and train a Tibetan resistance movement. But given that
India was evidently pursuing a policy of appeasement towards China, it was
clear that unless the Americans would commit themselves to all-out military
support, there was no real alternative to the Dalai Lama returning to Tibet.
Outwardly, Tenzin Gyatso's relations with Chinese officialdom improved
somewhat after his return to Lhasa in March 1957, but by the end of the year
it was clear that a crisis was in the offing. The whole of Kham and Amdo
(the second of Tibet's three provinces) were now in open rebellion.
Thousands of refugees began to flood into central Tibet. The resistance
fighters started to cause serious problems for the Chinese, blowing up roads
and bridges and harassing troop movements. By the beginning of 1959, there
were an estimated 50,000 refugees camped in and around Lhasa. The Monlam
Chenmo [Great Prayer Festival] of that year was a particularly important
one. Tenzin Gyatso was to appear before high monk officials for his final
examinations. Throughout the turmoil, he had diligently pursued his
religious studies and was now deemed ready to submit to the public debates
that would qualify him as a lharam geshe. Ostensibly to honour the Dalai
Lama following his graduation, the Chinese invited him to attend a dance
performance by a Hungarian dance troupe newly arrived from China. But as
word leaked out that the Precious Protector was due to visit the enemy in
his lair, thousands of monks, lay pilgrims and refugees gathered around the
Norbulingka Palace, the Dalai Lama's summer residence. It was clear to them
that this was a ploy to kidnap the Dalai Lama. They would therefore see to
it that he did not leave.
The next day, March 10, 1959, thousands more gathered outside the Potala
Palace, the Dalai Lama's winter residence, about two miles away, to denounce
the Chinese presence. The Chinese looked to the government to control the
people. It could not. Meanwhile, the strength and intensity of the protests
grew. It became apparent that the protesters' target was as much the Ganden
Phodrang itself, together with the ruling classes, which had continued to
prosper under the Chinese while doing nothing to oppose them. Paralysis
ensued.
The one authority capable of defusing the crisis was clearly the Dalai Lama
himself. Either he must support what was rapidly turning into a general
uprising, or he must support the Chinese and call on the protesters to
disperse. Declining the latter option, but judging confrontation to be
suicidal, he acquiesced in plans to engineer his flight into exile in India.
On March 17, in a consultation with the oracle, he was instructed to go: “Go
tonight!” That night, dressed as an ordinary soldier, he made his way
nervously through the crowds to a prearranged rendezvous with his younger
brother and sister and a select number of his closest circle of advisers.
Together, they headed south, over the river and past the unsuspecting
garrison of PLA troops en route to an uncertain future.
Tenzin Gyatso's flight to freedom in exile took 12 days. At Lhuntse Dzong, the
party paused just long enough for the Dalai Lama officially to repudiate the
Seventeen-Point Agreement. But no sooner had he done so than news began to
reach them that the PLA had destroyed both the Potala and the Norbulingka
palaces and were now in fevered pursuit.
They hurried on, arriving at the border on March 30. The Dalai Lama was at
this point ill with dysentery and unable to ride a horse as befitted his
dignity. Instead he was borne on the back of a dzo, the cross between a yak
and a cow, which is considered by Tibetans to be the humblest form of
transport.
© Alexander Norman 2008
Extracted from Holder of the White Lotus: The Lives of the Dalai Lama by
Alexander Norman, published by Little, Brown on May 22 at £20. Copies can be
ordered for £18, including postage, from The Sunday Times BooksFirst on 0870
165 8585
