The unrest in Tibet is the biggest challenge to Chinese rule in almost 20 years but also the most serious test of the Dalai Lama's authority to date as he struggles to keep his followers on the path of non-violence.

That much was made clear yesterday when the Tibetan spiritual leader threatened to “resign” if the violence escalated, insisting that independence was “out of the question” and urging his people to live “side by side” with the Chinese.

His threat was a clear attempt to reassert his authority over the world's six million Tibetans, 300,000 of whom live in exile, and to prove his credibility to a Chinese Government that regards him as a mendacious separatist.

His pacifist message will win him kudos around the world - and further photo opportunities with Western leaders, Hollywood stars and Buddhist converts.

The problem is that it is alienating many young Tibetans, both inside his Himalayan homeland, where they resent an influx of ethnic Chinese, and outside, where they feel increasingly rootless and disillusioned.

While they respect the Nobel Peace laureate for his non-violent creed as a monk, they point to the success of independence struggles in East Timor and Kosovo, which were both recognised as sovereign states by the international community after using force against their occupiers.

The vast majority of Tibetans still revere the Dalai Lama as their religious leader and do not question his supremacy over the Panchen Lama and the Karmapa Lama, the second and third in the Tibetan Buddhist hierarchy. But the more conciliatory he sounds towards China, the more they question his role as a political leader - which threatens a tradition that dates back to a young shepherd's appointment as the first Dalai Lama in the late 14th century.

Although it is theologically impossible for him to resign - as he is the reincarnation of his predecessor - the threat drew attention to a question at the core of the current crisis: what happens after he dies or steps down?

Still sprightly at 72, the Dalai Lama has floated several ideas - most recently suggesting that there be a referendum among the world's 11-12 million Tibetan Buddhists on whether he should be reincarnated.

If the vote was in favour, he said that he might appoint a reincarnation while he was still alive, instead of being reborn as a small boy after his death.

He has also introduced limited democratic reforms, holding the first elections in 2001 for the post of Prime Minister, who now heads the government-in-exile, technically.

But the Dalai Lama remains the pre-eminent political figurehead of a movement whose raison d'être is not to govern but to preserve Tibetan culture as it was before communist Chinese troops entered Tibet in 1950.

And, as a result, he is increasingly out of touch with the several generations of Tibetans who have grown up either in Chinese-occupied Tibet, or between India, Nepal and the West. The most likely consequence of his departure will therefore be that, without a unifying figurehead, the Tibetan movement will fragment into regional and political groupings.

And, to judge by the current crisis, the radical wing will emerge as the more vocal and more appealing to disaffected young Tibetans on both sides of the border. That should be a worry not just for the Dalai Lama, but for China's leaders too.

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