Review essay, timed for the 50th anniversary of the
establishment of the Tibetan Autonomous Region on September 1, 1965 looks at the recent history of Tibet and China, and the role
India and US played from the sidelines
Gyalo Thondup has had an extraordinary life. He was born in 1929 to a
well-off family in the Amdo region of Greater Tibet — now subsumed in
part by the Qinghai province of China — a region so poor and rugged that
even commodities like soap and candles were a rarity. But he was raised
to become the political adviser to the Dalai Lama, his younger brother
— Lhamo Thondup — born in 1935.
Educated in China and married to the daughter of a
Kuomintang general, he is fluent in Chinese, Tibetan and English and was
the Dalai Lama’s adviser and interlocutor with foreign leaders like
Chiang Kai-shek, Jawaharlal Nehru, Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiaoping. His
journey from his village in Amdo has taken him to Lhasa, India, China,
Taiwan, Hong Kong, the United States and then back to the compound of
the house he lives in today in Kalimpong where he earns his living by
making noodles. That is how the remarkable memoir he has written —
The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong — came to be named. However, the title of his book gives the unsuspecting reader no inkling about its actual contents.
The Chinese conquest of Tibet was a calamity for the Tibetans — and a
disaster for India. This book is a sad chronicle of the tragedy that
followed the Chinese defeat of the Tibetan army in 1950 and the signing
of
the 17 Point Agreement
affirming Chinese sovereignty over Tibet. Though the agreement was to
enable Tibet to live as an autonomous region, the Chinese took physical
control of the country through an invasion in 1951, divided it by
hiving off its eastern portion and renaming it the Tibet Autonomous
Region of China in 1965. Needless to say, the region has been autonomous
only in name.
Tibetan text of the Seventenn-Point Plan signed in 1951
In 1959, Chinese misrule led to a major uprising and the Dalai Lama
took political asylum in India along with tens of thousands of Tibetans.
Chinese repression intensified, culminating in the holocaust of the
Cultural Revolution when all its prominent monasteries were sacked and
its religious and cultural artefacts destroyed or damaged.
The relations between China and Tibet are a matter of controversy.
The People’s Republic of China insists on affirming the imperial borders
of the Manchu or Yuan era, but ties in that era were more complex and
fluid. There was no “China” and both these were, in fact,
foreign empires who ruled over China.
However, what matters now is that Tibet is under the firm control of
the PRC and there is little chance in the near term that this situation
will change. The only change that can come is through negotiation and
dialogue and better awareness in China of how shoddily they have treated
their minority peoples and culture. This is a lesson that Gyalo learnt
the hard way, going through the process of associating with the CIA and
Indian intelligence agencies to stoke an insurgency against Chinese
rule, failing and thereafter seeking to achieve Tibetan autonomy through
dialogue.
The Chinese efforts to transform the hearts and minds of the Tibetans
has been a spectacular failure and its rule has been characterised by
repeated uprisings — 1959, 1969, 1987, 2008. The protests of Tibetans
that shook China on the eve of the Olympics in 2008 were significant in
that not only did they take place in the TAR, but in areas of Tibet like
Amdo and Kham which had been assimilated into Chinese provinces and
where the Tibetans were in a minority. People who have travelled to
Tibet
have noted the deep veneration with which they hold the Dalai Lama even now and retain deep feelings for autonomy and cultural freedom.
***
India and Tibet are joined at the hip geographically. Their cultural
ties are even deeper. Tibet is the abode of Shiva, the greatest god in
the Indian pantheon; it is also the repository of a vast trove of
Buddhist culture that once prevailed over India and was driven out by
Brahminism. No Indian general, barring the unfortunate Zorawar Singh
attempted to conquer the forbidding plateau, and, for that matter, none
of the numerous invaders that India suffered came through Tibet. There
was trade across the mountain passes between India and Tibet; indeed,
the shortest distance between Lhasa and the sea was to the port of
Kolkata, through which its major supplies were routed till the war of
1962. It is for these reasons that India has been extraordinarily
generous and hospitable to the Tibetan refugees and the Dalai Lama. A
Tibetan government-in-exile functions from Dharamsala which, however,
treads carefully so as not to undermine India’s claim that it does not
permit Tibetans to carry out political activities in India.
For a century or so, the British colonialists who drew the boundaries
of political India sought assiduously to maintain Tibet as an
autonomous region — recognising what they said was Chinese “suzerainty”,
rather than sovereignty over Tibet. (It was only in 2008 that Britain
abandoned “suzerainty” and accepted Chinese “sovereignty” over Tibet)
But once a strong Chinese entity re-established its control over the
country, such distinctions vanished and Beijing established its control
over the region with the iron hand of the People’s Liberation Army. And
the Indian political entity now faced a strong central power on its
northern borders.
General
Cariappa, C-in-C, Indian Army, greets Pandit Nehru at Plaam Aerodrome
on the Prime Minister’s return from his foreign tour on November 15,
1949. Credit: Photo Division
In keeping with its national interests, India sought to help the
Tibetans. A query by Prime Minister Nehru to the Army chief, K M
Cariappa about the feasibility of military assistance was met with a
firm “no”. But New Delhi did manage to provide some material assistance
to the Tibetans resisting the PLA in Kham. Don’t forget, in those days,
access to Tibet was far easier through Kolkata and the passes of Sikkim,
than from any part of China. Given the size of the Indian army and its
commitments in Kashmir, there was no question of taking on the
battle-hardened PLA. In a 1954 treaty, India surrendered its historical
rights in Tibet, accepted China’s occupation by recognizing its
sovereignty over Tibet without getting any commitments from Beijing
over the Indo-Tibet border, naively believing that “friendship” between
two countries would take care of all the problems.
Separately, the United States, which had sought to prevent the
victory of the PLA in China and fought it in Korea, sought to open a new
front against China through Tibet. The CIA’s predecessor, the OSS, had
already made a connection in Lhasa, but now, with the victory of the PLA
in the Chinese civil war, they were looking for other ways to hit
China. Contact was established through the Dalai Lama’s elder brother,
Thubten Norbu and simultaneously, the Kolkata consulate, through its
vice-consul, a CIA officer, began to develop contacts with the Tibetan
aristocracy via Sikkim, then an Indian protectorate. The story is told
in considerable detail in Kenneth Conboy and James Morrison’s
The CIA’s Secret War in Tibet and by one of the CIA officers, John Kenneth Knaus, in
Orphans of the Cold War: America and the Tibetan Struggle for Survival.
***
Gyalo became the primary conduit of the CIA effort in Tibet, as well
as an important interlocutor with India. Conboy and Morrison’s account,
as well as that of Knaus’s, bring out the pathetic quality of that
effort. Before 1962, India was complicit by permitting overflights of
aircraft based in East Pakistan, dropping teams of Tibetans into their
homeland. After the 1962 war, India got more actively involved and
created Establishment 22, which supported the effort through a Tibetan
group in Mustang, Nepal. The effort had little or no impact on China, if
anything, it only served to deepen Beijing’s suspicions of India.
However, following the election of 1968, the Americans shifted course as
Kissinger sought to turn the Soviet Union’s flanks by befriending
China. So, in 1969, the US abruptly stopped their Tibetan programme and
the effort slowly unraveled.
Establishment 22 was used by India for some operations in Tibet and
later against Pakistani forces in the Bangladesh war. It still exists in
a truncated form as the Special Frontier Force.
Gyalo’s account is suffused with a sense of guilt. Had the Tibetans
not sought Indian and American assistance, would the enormous suffering
they subsequently faced at the hands of the Chinese been lessened? There
is also a sense of bitterness that after initially agreeing to give
the Dalai Lama asylum in India in 1956, Nehru reneged, taken in by Zhou
Enlai who had dashed to India fearing such an eventuality. Naturally,
there is no good answer to that. What has happened, has happened. And
its unlikely that Mao, whose policies killed tens of millions of his own
countrymen would have been any kinder towards Tibet.
What is interesting from the Indian viewpoint are some of the
revelations Gyalo makes. He points to divisions in India’s bureaucracy,
noting that he was advised by Foreign Secretary T N Kaul to talk to the
Soviets for help after the Americans dropped out, while the head of
RAW, R N Kao was appalled by the suggestion. There is a ring of truth in
this because through the Cold War and all the ups and downs in India’s
relations with the US, the intelligence services of the two countries
maintained a cordial and sometimes close relationship. He also speaks of
the Indian effort to sabotage any effort on the part of the Tibetans to
make a deal with China in the early 1980s. These were the same people
who prevented a possible border settlement between India and China at
the time.
There is also an interesting account detailing how Indian
intelligence may have been involved in a plot to change the succession
in Bhutan — which was foiled by the premature death of King Jigme Dorji
in 1972. A Tibetan consort of the old king, Ashi Yangkyi, was allegedly
involved in the plot. Gyalo, who was then living in Hong Kong, was
accused of masterminding the conspiracy. When he rushed back to India
and sought to set the record straight through a press conference, he was
strenuously opposed by Indian intelligence officials. In 1974, it may
be recalled, skilfully manipulating a popular movement against the
Chogyal of Sikkim, RAW succeeded in securing the accession of that
protectorate into the Union of India.
Perhaps the most fascinating part of Gyalo’s account relates to his
dealing with top Chinese officials. In 1979, almost coincidentally with
the visit of Foreign Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee to China, Gyalo
visited China again, this time for a meeting with China’s pragmatic new
supreme leader Deng Xiaoping. It was during this visit that Deng told
Gyalo that “except for independence, everything is negotiable,” an offer
which evokes Narasimha Rao’s promise to the Kashmiris, that when it
came to autonomy, “the sky is the limit.”
Sadly, that has not happened, either in Tibet, or in Kashmir.
Incidentally, that was the period in which Deng offered India a border
package which would essentially freeze the Line of Actual Control.
Unfortunately, the Cold Warriors in New Delhi rejected the proposal
which now stands withdrawn.
***
Tibetan negotiations with the Chinese went on in the early 1980s,
first through Hu Yaobang, the new General Secretary of the CPC, later
with Yan Mingfu, various proposals were discussed, including a return of
the Dalai Lama, but eventually the talks collapsed in 1989 when China
itself made a radical change of course following the Tiananmen events.
Gyalo also describes an encounter with Xi Jinping’s father, Xi Zhongxun,
who was in charge of Tibet after Yan Mingfu was sacked.
Gyalo’s voice and his views are not being heard for the first time.
He has, in the past, been interviewed by researchers writing on the
events of the time. A memoir is also a place to set the record straight,
as Gyalo does, with regard to charges that he embezzled money from the
Mustang operation, or, earlier, from the bullion that the Dalai Lama
brought with him from Tibet.
Age plays tricks with memories, especially when remembering frenetic
events which took place 50 or 60 years ago. Indeed, in an afterword, his
own co-writer, Anne Thurston, questions several portions of the
narrative. In p. 277 he writes of a “Mr Nair” the head of the “research
division” of RAW who urged him not to talk to the Chinese in 1988. But
if it’s Sankaran Nair who he is talking about, he is mistaken. Nair
headed RAW for a brief period in 1977 had retired subsequently and was
High Commissioner to Singapore at the time of the purported
conversation. But memoirs are memoirs which must be looked at warts and
all.
The Wire September 1, 2015
