Ladakh is a good place to get an understanding of the
Tibetan problem, for Ladakh is also a part of Tibet; there is one
important difference: we never hear any bad news from Ladakh, though
their situation is quite similar. Israel Shamir looks at Tibet over the
border:
Buddha’s
Nativity in Ladakh
By Israel Shamir
Long
snake quickly moved down the mountain: hundreds of monks ran along a
curving paved path from the monastery at the top to the broad polo
grounds at the bottom, where the whole population of Leh had gathered to
celebrate the Buddha’s Nativity. Powerful, muscular monks in yellow hats
and orange robes were accompanied by peasants, city folk, urchins of
sorts, cars and cattle [on the upper photo: a Ladakh monastery on the
top, second photo: the monks]. The polo grounds with flags and
garlands, important folk sitting up on a long elevated tribune, and
performers queuing up recalled a typical May Day celebration in a
provincial Soviet town, though there were Lamas instead of Party
officials. Actually, (ex-Soviet) Tajikistan is not far from here – just
over the impassable mountains, for Leh, the capital city of Ladakh, is
located in the upper reaches of the Indus River, between the Himalayas
and the Hindu Kush, squeezed between Tibet and Kashmir, bordering on
China and Pakistan, next to Afghanistan and Tajikistan. The local people
are fond of horseback riding, so the game of polo is not a foreign
invention to them, but rather a native game. Actually, the Brits learned
it in the southern slopes of the Himalayas, and later on built polo
grounds all over the Empire.
Once, Leh was an important place on an important
road, but that was long time ago. Nowadays, Ladakh belongs to India,
being part of the State of Jammu and Kashmir, its farthest-away part.
The border with China and Pakistan having been closed, Leh is isolated
by frontiers, troops, rivers and mountains. In the winter, Ladakh is
practically cut off from the rest of the world. The road from Kashmir to
Ladakh was opened in May, and it will be closed again at the end of
September. It passes through awe-inspiring passes with romantic names:
Zoji-la, Namika-la, Fatu-la, reminiscent of Shangri-la, beyond the
snow-capped mountains. It is a scary experience to come to Ladakh from
Kashmir – the Zoji-la mountain pass can frighten any atheist into saying
a prayer. There is an image of the Virgin next to that of Buddha and to
an Islamic mihrab at the top of the pass, and all of them are well
attended by grateful travellers. However, the passes on the second road
to India, the Manali road, are allegedly even worse, though one wonders
whether that is even possible.
Ladakh,
this vast, frozen and sparsely populated desert, looks like the South
Sinai, a barren land with high mountains and huge military bases,
mercifully enlivened by temples and monasteries. There are trees in a
few spots in the river valleys, but otherwise this land is bare. Ladakhi
towns are tiny and rather pleasant. They have wonderful palatial houses
with colourful frescoes on the walls. Ladakh was once ruled by its own
king, but not anymore. The royal palace has been taken over by the
government. Now the queen, the widow of the last king, lives in an
ordinary house one hour’s drive from the capital Leh.
[On the third photo, a noble Ladakh lady in her
palatial mansion].
I’ve been visiting a few monasteries in this most
remote Buddhist country with an average altitude of 10,000 feet. Though
religions differ, man’s need for communing with God remains a constant.
Buddhists – like Orthodox Christians – strive to achieve this perfect
union with God; they call it enlightenment while we call it
theosis or deification. Their monasteries are full of icons they
call tanka. Their night chants begin at the same time the monks
of Mt Athos start their morning prayer, and last very, very long. There
are differences, too: though we admire and venerate our spiritual
teachers, we never worship a living person like they do. There are more
photos of the Dalai Lama in the monasteries than there were portraits of
Stalin and Mao in Russia and China. To make the comparison stick, there
are also copies of his collected works in so many languages.
Once there were many monks and monasteries; huge
reliefs of the Buddha still embellish the land, as well as their mani
walls made of ritually inscribed flat stones. But the attraction of
monkhood has faded notably. I stayed in Lamayuru, one of the biggest
monasteries in Ladakh. It is a vast complex with dozens of houses and
stupas, big and small – but there was only one resident monk. I
was told that a few more were scattered throughout the area, helping
with the harvest and teaching children. In the old days, the monks
taught children in a monastery school. Now the Indian government
provides schools, so children do not have to go to monasteries, though
monks still teach. Still, the
literacy rate here is below 25%, while in neighbouring Tibet it is
95%. Moreover, Tibet is accessible all year round even by train, while
Ladakh is not.
Ladakh is a good place to get an understanding of the
Tibetan problem, for Ladakh is also a part of Tibet, and the native
population is kin to the Tibetans. Ladakhis and Tibetans understand each
other almost as well as people from different parts of Ladakh understand
each other.
There is one important difference: we never hear any
bad news from Ladakh, though their situation is quite similar. Both are
not independent. While Tibet belongs to China, Ladakh belongs to India.
Whereas in Tibet, money and business is mainly in Chinese hands, in
Ladakh business, trade, hotels, tourism are in Indian, mainly Kashmiri
hands. The reasons for the differential treatment lie elsewhere: India
is more compliant with the West than China, and that is why China is
attacked. If India were to become equally ‘stubborn’, we should soon be
hearing about mistreated Ladakhis, too.
The people of Ladakh and of Tibet surely have their
problems but these problems are mainly due to “progress” – the State
(China or India) took over the role once performed by the monasteries.
Nowadays, roads are repaired, schools run, and taxes collected by the
state, not by monasteries. The monasteries have lost their position as
feudal seigniors. Naturally the monks are not happy about it; but the
same can be said in France or Russia: even there, the monks would like
to revert to less hectic times. Tibet is just the only place that the
Western media brings us the opinion of the monks as a valid one rather
than as curiosity.
The native people haven’t sufficient capital,
connections or experience to compete with the Indians and the Chinese in
trade and business. Native culture is being eroded by globalisation both
in Tibet and in Ladakh (as it is in your home town), but only in Tibet
we hear it called “cultural genocide”.
On a wall in Ladakh I spotted this sticker attached
to … Pepsi Cola sign, apparently the very opposite to “cultural
genocide”. Indeed the present attack on China because of its “cultural
genocide” in Tibet is a cynical media manipulation. Tibetans actually do
better in Tibet than Ladakhis in Ladakh, and with departure of
communism, even this reason evaporated. Communism is/was a different
religion, competing with Lamaist Buddhism of Tibetans, now they will
have to compete with Liberal Consumerism, most godless creed of our
days, equally active in Tibet, Ladakh and New York.
If ever Tibet will become independent, it is likely
to tear away the Indian territories of Ladakh and Himachal Pradesh, as
the native population is akin to Tibetans, and connected to Tibet by
blood, marriages, customs, language and religion. This is a strong
argument against giving too much support to the Tibetan cause: changes
of status quo are bloody and violent and usually are connected with
ethnic cleansing.
The Tibetans in Himachal Pradesh and Ladakh describe
themselves as ‘refugees’, but after all they live in close proximity to
their old homes, among their cousins and at their own choice. They are
as much refugees as the Irish in Liverpool. They should make their
choice: go back to Tibet or become naturalised in India. Apparently both
possibilities are open to them. Chinese Tibet is not some dreadful place
of communist torture chambers, and they can go back without fear for
their lives. Instead, they take CIA money to despoil the walls of Leh
with their nasty anti-Chinese slogans and with their cheap propaganda in
English aimed at foreign tourists. I asked some Tibetan refugees: would
they return to Tibet? Yes, we would, they said, if the Dalai Lama would
return as well, and this is not likely to happen soon.
Tibetans are just one ethnic group among many others
living in the area. Their independence would cause other small groups
claim their independence, as it happened in the most recent case of
Georgia and Ossetia. Indeed, if Kartvelis can become independent of
Russia, why Ossetia can’t become independent of Georgia? If Tibetans may
become independent of China, why Ladakhis can’t become independent of
India? Promotion of ‘national independence’ is a deadly game, it always
was, and it is better to stop it.
Let the Tibetans and the Ladakhis worship at their
monasteries and improve their lives, let the Dalai Lama concentrate his
efforts of the real Buddhist goals, i.e. seeking Nirvana, while leaving
the dreams of full cultural (let alone political) independence where
they belong – in the Dream Kingdom.