- 1 ‘Tibetan general elections 2021: EC declares elected Sikyong and members of 17th Tibetan Pa (...)
1The date 27 May 2021 is important for Tibetans around the world. After a successful general election during the Covid year, Mr. Penpa Tsering was sworn in as the Sikyong or the head of the Tibetan administration in exile. This election was historic as it had a voter turnout of 77.02%, the highest so far in the history of Tibetan democracy.1 The events that followed did not go so smoothly, however. On 8 June 2021, out of the 45 elected parliamentarians, 21 members undertook their oath in the presence of the Interim Speaker, who was sworn in by the Chief Justice Commissioner (CJC); whereas other 22 members, in defiance, took their oath in front of a portrait of the 14th Dalai Lama and the Charter, citing the illegitimacy of the CJC’s involvement in the swearing-in ceremony. Due to the divide, all parliamentarian functions were put on hold. This impasse stemmed from an earlier instance: in one of the sessions of the previous sixteenth parliament, the majority of the members of parliament (MPs) had dismissed all the three judges of the Tibetan Supreme Justice Commission on the grounds of interfering in the internal workings of parliament. The judges were reinstated after several months on the grounds that the dismissal process had not been duly followed. Though there was confusion regarding the constitutionality of the judges’ reinstatement, the judges oversaw the swearing-in ceremonies of the newly elected Sikyong and the interim speaker of the parliament in exile, which became a bone of contention at the centre of this impasse among the MPs.
- 2 ‘Tibetan president calls to end deadlock in parliament in exile.’ Hindustan Times, 2 Septem (...)
- 3 ‘Elected representatives of the 17th TPIE set to meet to resolve parliamentary deadlock. ‘P (...)
- 4 Tibetan Parliament in exile.
2As the incident received media coverage, there was confusion among the Tibetan diaspora. While commemorating the sixty-first Tibetan Democracy Day on 2 September 2021, the Sikyong urged MPs to end this impasse and at the same time expressed his gratitude towards the Tibetans inside Tibet, saying, ‘It is this strength that unites the Tibetans in exile and keeps alive the freedom struggle. It is the common wish in our heart to reunite in Tibet’.2 Tibetans shared their concerns and views on the issue. In the comment section of an article in Phayul3 titled ‘Elected representatives of the 17th TPiE4 set to meet to resolve parliamentary deadlock’, a person under the pseudonym ‘deshbhakt’ appealed to the representatives ‘to give Tibet a priority and let the wisdom prevail as you deliberate’ (emphasis mine). Another person under the pseudonym ‘JangchupSG’ urged the parliamentarians to resolve the issue: ‘No more drama please because we the public, everybody is watching… closely including the international govts & medias all over the world’ (emphasis mine). After almost four months with no resolution, the MPs decided unanimously to approach His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Expressing his disappointment regarding the unfolding of the situation, the Dalai Lama advised the members to follow the procedures outlined in the Charter. Following this, all 45 parliamentarians were finally formally sworn in. In reaction to all this, an illustration by the artist Cactus was posted on the online handle of Phayul (a media group) which said: ‘Our democracy was a gift, and gifts aren’t returned back’ (see fig 2).
3This incident highlights certain interesting characteristics of Tibetan democracy: the centrality of the figure of the Dalai Lama, the use of the term ‘gift’ for democracy, the overarching nationalist theme of returning to Tibet and reuniting with fellow Tibetans, and the importance of the international community to ensure legitimacy and support. According to McConnell, the rationale behind instituting the Tibetan democracy is threefold:
(i) as an ideological weapon against Chinese propaganda and a means of legitimising TGiE (Tibetan Government-in-exile) in the eyes of western democracy, (ii) as a key part of the Tibetan freedom struggle, and (iii) as a stabilising mechanism to prevent a power vacuum after the death of the Dalai Lama. (McConnell 2009: 126)
4McConnell (2009: 138) also highlights the fact that for Tibetan democracy, which spans various spatial and temporal contexts, it is a challenge to balance the institutional and administrative functions of democracy with its strategic mobilisations for various other means. The present article delves into the question of how the Tibetan discourse in exile influences the imagination and workings of the democracy in exile set-up. This article brings together concepts such as gift and the public sphere to understand a Tibetan experience of democracy and strives to show that democracy, which is considered a gift from the Dalai Lama, is understood by Tibetans as something sacred and precious which should not be tainted. I argue that such a conceptualisation of democracy as sacred and as a means to attain the ‘higher cause’ of a future free homeland saturates the space for critical public discussions, thereby sidelining the public sphere in the Tibetan democracy.
5This research was undertaken as part of a one-year Master of Arts in Liberal Studies (MLS) programme at Ashoka University. I spent almost four months (December 2021–March 2022) in the field. I conducted my research during the COVID-19 pandemic which limited my opportunities for participant observation. I interviewed the Tibetans of the Sonamling Tibetan settlement in Leh-Ladakh. Due to restrictions on movement and limited time for research, it was best to do field work in only one location. I chose Sonamling for two main reasons: (1) familiarity with the location because I come from there, which allowed for easier access to the people and was helpful since it was my first research endeavour; (2) the local elections were about to take place and Sonamling is one of the few settlements in exile which elects their own chief representative, which could give more insight into my research topics. The research participants belonged to different age groups ranging from 20 to 80 years old, which made it possible to gather views from different generations; some had seen Tibet with their eyes whereas others had been born in exile. There was also an attempt to include people from both genders.
6As for the interviews, a semi-structured format was adopted and was adapted according to the respondent, which allowed for varied conversations. Questions included, amongst other things, their views on democracy, discussions, gifts and elections. Personal histories were also an important component for a better understanding of their opinions and thoughts. Utmost care was taken to seek the participants’ informed consent, and their anonymity was guaranteed. Real names have not been used in the article. Around 14 in-depth interviews were carried out. The interviews were conducted in the Tibetan language and, for the purpose of the research, they were translated as faithfully as possible into English. I used the Wylie transliteration for Tibetan phrases. A holistic and interpretive analysis approach was used as this seemed to be the best way to grasp abstract themes such as democracy, exile, nationalism and others. Most of the claims made here would be specific to Tibetans in India.
7Democracy’s global hegemony is well accepted and sought after. Democracy is regarded as a barometer for the progressiveness of a state or a community. As Dunn (2019: 15) asks, ‘Why should it be the case that, for the first time in the history of our still conspicuously multi-lingual species, there is for the present a single world-wide name for the legitimate basis of political authority?’ (emphasis mine). Democracy can be understood either in its instrumental and institutional forms or it can be viewed as a philosophical ideology underpinned by ideas such as freedom, equality and justice. Moreover, as anthropological works show, democracy as a concept is multifaceted and manifests itself in variegated forms in different contexts. Therefore, each democracy is unique. Anthropologist Julia Paley (2002: 475) points out that ‘different definitions of democracy can be identified not only in the meaning systems of cultural subgroups, but also in state discourses and national self-understandings as well’. Defining democracy in just one way therefore limits our understanding of this multivalent concept. Emphasising the variations in democracy, Paley shows the myriad ways in which democracy is strategically employed by people within their specific contexts. Paley (2002: 477) talks about Coronil’s (1997) work in Venezuela, among many other works, where the meaning of democracy has changed with different political and historical contexts; or Tambiah’s (1996) work which deals with violence and democracy, as oxymoronic as it may sound. All this shows ‘democracy’s very multivalence’ (Paley 2002: 476), which allows it to be mobilised for extremely different outcomes. However, this is not to suggest that the institutional and organisational aspects of democracy are unimportant. Rather, it is to draw attention to the multiplicity of the understandings and implementations of democracy. Béteille (2012) highlights the importance of the institutions of democracy, but he also emphasises democracy’s processual nature. He suggests that the ‘advance of democracy transforms subjects into citizens’ (Béteille 2012: 8) whereby, rather than being subjected to various ideas and norms, people are increasingly taking ownership of the functioning of democracy. My insights from this research resonate with the argument put forward by Paley about the importance of seeing how different groups understand and implement democracy in their own way. The Tibetan journey with democracy, located in a specific time and space, underlines democracy’s generally multivalent character.
8Tibetans’ formal encounter with democracy took shape in exile, but the seed had started to germinate earlier. In his foreword to the Constitution of Tibet (drafted in 1963) the Dalai Lama writes
Even prior to my departure from Tibet in March 1959, I had come to the conclusion that in the changing circumstances of the modern world, the system of governance in Tibet must be modified and amended so as to allow the elected representatives of the people to play a more effective role in guiding and shaping the social and economic policies of the State. I also firmly believed that this could only be done through democratic institutions based on social and economic justice.
- 5 This is not to say that Tibetans have remained untouched by the host country’s culture. (...)
9Therefore, one of the important missions of the Dalai Lama in exile has been to rehabilitate the Tibetans who had followed him into exile and to initiate the democratic journey. As early as February 1960 in Bodh Gaya, the Dalai Lama started introducing democracy by advising the Tibetans to elect their representatives. Following this, on 2 September 1960, a 13-member Commission of Tibetan People’s Deputies (which later became the TPiE) was elected. This day is celebrated every year as Tibetan Democracy Day by Tibetans all over the world. Tibetans often say that democracy is a gift from the Dalai Lama. The sudden introduction of democratic freedoms, which Tibetans did not necessarily ask or fight for, could have caused confusion. However, the Dalai Lama, in an effort to familiarise the Tibetans with democracy, insisted that democracy is not ‘strange’ or ‘alien’ to them because democratic aspects are integral and inherent to Buddha’s teachings and practices (Brox 2008: 71). In addition to introducing democracy, the Dalai Lama also initiated efforts to protect the Tibetan language and culture. The first Tibetan school, where Tibetan children who had fled with their families could be educated, was set up in March 1960 in Mussoorie. Thanks to these efforts, Tibetans have managed to carve out a distinct identity for themselves, which contributes to the construction of a Tibetan national identity.5 An illustration by Lobsang Gyatso (fig 1) for the Tibetan Review aptly summarises the Tibetan democratic journey which was bestowed from above.
Fig 1: Illustration by Lobsang Gyatso for the Tibetan Review, 1990.
Source: Tibetan Review. Date: 1990.
10McConnell (2009: 128) suggests that ‘Tibetan democratisation can be seen as constituting a key image-building exercise and an attempt to situate the Tibetan exiled polity and its broader cause firmly within contemporary discourses about democracy and good governance’. Exile became a place from which exiled Tibetans would remember and protect their homeland, language and culture so that by the time they returned to Tibet, they would have a full-fledged democratic system, a legitimate one. For the Tibetans in exile, democracy becomes a mechanism which connects them with those who remain in Tibet and also a democracy becomes hope of returning to a free homeland. With the Tibetan freedom struggle as its backdrop, democracy was presented to Tibetans as a path connecting the past and future aspirations for a self-ruled Tibet. In the words of the Dalai Lama,
Because this freedom struggle of ours is for rights, freedom and the future happiness of six million Tibetans, we certainly must consolidate the democratic institutions and democratic systems. As I have said many times, for the creation of modern Tibet and the development of the people, it is crucial to value freedom and democracy. (Brox 2008: 79)
11In line with this, McConnell (2009: 122) uses the term ‘democracy-in-waiting’ to characterise how the existent Tibetan democracy in exile negotiates various temporal and spatial contexts. The making of Tibetan democracy speaks simultaneously to a past which needs to be reformed and practised in exile in the present to create a better future in Tibet. I slightly differ from McConnell in that, instead of setting aside democracy for a future time, I argue, like Paley (2002), that democracy is as democracy does, and hence I wish to show how democracy manifests itself in the case of Tibetans in India.
12Nationalism can be understood as a ‘particularised discourse of collective identity’ (Anand 2000: 274) wherein what is characterised as ‘national’ is carefully chosen and constructed. The Tibetan nation in exile was constructed as an entity united against Chinese oppression, with a wish to return home and to reassure itself that the self will not disappear in exile. For Anand (2000: 275), ‘the Tibetan national imagination is a product/process of strategic essentialism, oriented towards the goal of retaining homeland’.
- 6 ‘List of Tibetan Settlements’. Central Tibetan Administration. https://tibet.net/department (...)
- 7 Sonamling settlement, where this research wasconducted, has an elected settlement officer. (...)
13The Tibetan national identity is characterised by the condition of being in exile, where specific resources from history, language and culture are strategically employed to instil a sense of lost homeland and one’s liminal existence in exile. A quick overview of the exile set-up with the various refugee settlements and Dharamshala, the seat of Central Tibetan Administration (CTA), reveals a careful re-creation of the imagined homeland in exile. As ‘self-contained cultural units’ (Norbu 2003: 209), the refugee settlements were ‘deliberately designed...to recreate Tibetan society with its core values intact’ (ibid: 204). There are around 45 settlements across India, Nepal and Bhutan6 which are akin to small microcosms with all the required functionaries such as welfare, education, economy and others. The governance of these settlements is a mixture of grass-roots level democracy run by group leaders and their committee members (bcudpon) and of supervision by the CTA Home Department through the appointed settlement officers.7 The extensive network of around 63 Tibetan schools in India and Nepal works to provide modern education to Tibetan children and to instil in them a strong feeling of Tibetanness (Hess 2009: 66). Lokyitsang’s (2022: 2) ethnographic essay about the educational institutions in exile shows the central role that schools played in fostering solidarity within the Tibetan community, members of which viewed each other as family. Her work shows that despite being separated from their kin back in Tibet, Tibetans in exile were able to forge new friendships which were ‘not about replacing family with friends, but instead represented a way of adapting to the realities of being separated from kin’ (Lokyitsang 2022: 9). The structure of the exile set-up further emphasises the primacy of recreating Tibet in exile. Norbulingka, which is named after the summer abode of the Dalai Lama in Tibet, is a well-known cultural centre in Dharamshala. The three traditional monastic institutions (Sera, Drepung and Ganden) along with the other main monasteries and nunneries (Tashilhunpo, Namdroling and others) have been rebuilt in India and are home to thousands of monks and nuns. ‘Potala’, ‘Snow lion’, ‘Lhasa’, ‘Tibet’ and other Tibet-related motifs are commonly adopted by Tibetans for their business ventures. The production of culturally representative yet strategically essentialist motifs and traditional crafts, which is one of the main sources of livelihood for the Tibetans in exile (Korom 1997: 3), constitutes a significant amount of cultural work, forging the image of their homeland. As Korom (1997: 5) proposes, ‘the intentionality behind these emergent craft forms seems to suggest a purposeful attempt to locate the homeland at the centre of the refugee discourse’ and these efforts have borne fruit.
14A lost homeland and a separated people are a constant and recurrent theme amongst Tibetans of all generations. It governs much of their exile life. A 39-year-old man who works for a non-governmental Tibetan organisation said that the fact that there are millions of Tibetans inside Tibet who have put their faith in those in exile, believing that they will bring some good news soon enough, is what drives him to do his public work in the Tibetan community. An elderly grandmother broke down in tears while talking about the struggle the Tibetans have been through and insisted that ‘the younger Tibetans should live up to the wishes of the Dalai Lama and get our country back’. Penpa, an 83-year-old grandfather (popo) said, ‘I am someone who has to leave this world one day but I am always ready and waiting to go back to our home, to Tibet, if and when the efforts of the Dalai Lama and the government bear fruit’. He then added, ‘if needed, I am ever-ready to give my life’. He had left Tibet and his family because he had decided that wherever the Dalai Lama would be is where he would go. He asked me rhetorically, ‘who is not attached to/who doesn’t have allegiance towards Tibet?’
15For the elder generation, who have experienced first-hand the loss of their homeland, it is natural to feel strongly about returning to Tibet. However, younger Tibetans feel no less passionately about this. Tsering and Choekyi, two young women who are also members of the Regional Tibetan Youth Congress, saw no other way of being Tibetan than being vocal about Tibet. One of them (aged 26) said that ‘there is no option of backing off’ and that being born a Tibetan is itself equivalent to being an activist for Tibet. The other woman (aged 29) rationalised that, being in a free country like India as opposed to being repressed in Tibet, one must use this freedom to raise one’s voice for the brothers and sisters back in Tibet. There are Tibetans who are more vocal, but there are some, like one young interlocutor (aged 24), who are determined to contribute in any way to the Tibetan struggle but would first like to set themselves up in life. Life in exile is precarious and complex for many young people who negotiate their existence on a day-to-day basis. However, as this young interlocutor put it, every Tibetan, including themselves, is ‘hot-blooded’ when it comes to Tibet.
16The Tibetan nation is intrinsically connected to democracy. As I will show in the following section, democracy among Tibetans in India cannot be treated separately from the larger vision of a Tibetan homeland. The Tibetan nationalist cause is integral to imagining the Tibetan community within the exilic population, and democracy becomes subsumed within this greater cause. This has repercussions on how people view the process and purpose of democracy.
17In exile, democracy is constituted within the larger framework of nationalism, which is undergirded by the desire to return home. Democracy facilitates the creation and strengthening of a Tibetan national identity through processes such as elections and voting which help to knit the Tibetan community together, counteracting dissolution into the host communities. Every aspect of this democratic machinery stands as a reminder of one’s exile and reinforces the nationalist goal of returning to a free Tibet. Unlike other democracies, voting and elections in the Tibetan set-up take place according to one’s region of origin in Tibet, and the constitution of the TPiE is based on the three traditional regions of Tibet and the four sects of Tibetan Buddhism and the Bon religion. Concerning the Tibetan electoral system, McConnell (2016: 83) observes that ‘the voting system [...] was designed to play a key role in shaping the political consciousness of the diaspora and forging a symbolic link with the homeland’. After seven decades of exile, there are three generations of Tibetans who have been born without the physical and material attachment that the first Tibetan exiles had, yet the feeling of Tibetanness is no less strong amongst new generations. It is the processes of nation-making, such as elections, education, history, culture and language, that keeps the Tibetan identity alive and intact. Other than democracy, there are various other elements that help create a Tibetan national identity in exile. For instance, the layout of the exiles’ settlements, as discussed by Norbu (2003: 186–212) and Bentz (2012a:88–91), were instrumental in creating a nation in exile.
18India, Nepal and Bhutan used to host the majority of Tibetan exiles, however, with increasing out-migration, the number of Tibetans settled outside these regions is increasing. An estimated half of the exile population have settled in regions like North America, Europe and Australasia (Samten et al 2020: 10). The exile set-up allowed the Tibetans to maintain a distinct identity for themselves. Moreover, the ‘non-assimilative’ approach by the host governments facilitated the maintenance of the separate identity (Norbu 2003: 204). One example of this is the ‘voluntary’ statelessness that the Tibetans have chosen for themselves. Tibetans, according to the Citizenship Act of 1955, are eligible to become citizens of India. However, the path to obtaining Indian citizenship is not easy. The TGiE maintains statelessness as a ‘moral approach’ (McGranahan 2018: 370), constitutive of their common political project of sovereignty and legitimacy. Even though the TGiE neither encourages nor discourages the adoption of citizenship in other countries, there exists a political narrative, mostly in South Asia, which juxtaposes one’s citizenship and one’s political allegiance to the Tibetan cause. The assumption is that by taking on foreign citizenship and therefore distancing oneself from the TGiE, one will move farther away from the Tibetan cause and identity. However, Gupta (2019: 343) has shown that voting cards or Indian citizenship do not have a transformative impact on political self-identification among Tibetans or on their allegiance to the Tibetan cause. McGranahan posits that the refusal of citizenship by some Tibetans in South Asia is not an end in itself but is ‘generative and affiliative’ (2018: 368) as it forges solidarity amongst the Tibetans and a claim for sovereign Tibet (2018: 371). The embedded morality in remaining refugees in South Asia is stronger than the gains provided by citizenship (McGranahan 2016: 337). With their migrating to the West and the fact that it is impossible for them to continue as stateless people, Tibetans opt for foreign citizenship, but they do not give up their refugee-hood (Bentz 2023: 435–440). McGranahan argues that refusal here (outside of South Asia) does not apply to citizenship but to the assumed link that obtaining foreign citizenship cancels their refugee-hood (McGranahan 2018: 376). However, Bentz (2023: 428) argues, based on her work with Tibetans in Canada, that rather than being a reconfigured refusal, the negotiations by Tibetan migrants serve to ‘repurpos[e] citizenship with a new and highly specific meaning’. Similarly, Hess (2009: 20) argues that ‘Tibetans see the adoption of US citizenship as a means to empower themselves as political actors for their lost homeland in a transnational sphere. In short, by becoming US citizens they become political agents for their own lost state’. Bentz (2023: 442) suggests that the Tibetan diaspora in the West could be best understood through the concept of ‘refugee citizenship’, as their identity of being a refugee is underpinned by a cause which is further propagated and defended through their citizenship status in the host countries. Irrespective of where one is or which citizenship one holds, ‘Tibet represents both a palpable sense of loss and, at the same time, it represents all that is most saturated with meaning, the raison d’être for many exile selves’ (Hess 2009: 12).
19The Dalai Lama is central to both the nationalist and democratic framework. He is the symbol of Tibet and the foundation of the Tibetan nation. As the manifestation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion (Avalokiteshvara), he is the patron deity of the Tibetan land and people and, as one of my elderly interlocutors Popo-Pema (aged 61) states, ‘the one and only’ (yod na med na). The Dalai Lama is the ‘symbol of Tibet’ (Bentz 2012b: 293) wherein Tibetans identify with him and recognise him as their leader. Bentz argues that the figure of the Dalai Lama and the institution associated with him have been considered a symbol of Tibet, but it is because of his living in exile and especially of his being the current fourteenth Dalai Lama that he is considered a ‘summarising symbol’ (2012b: 290), a symbol that explains everything Tibetan to the Tibetans. Ortner, who coined this term, explains that ‘summarising symbols… are those symbols which are seen as summing up, expressing, representing for the participants in an emotionally powerfully and relatively undifferentiated way, what the system means to them’ (cited in Bentz 2012b: 290). Bentz observes that within the precarious conditions of exile coupled with the trauma of invasion, there was a strong need for unity and guidance which the Tibetans found in the figure of the Dalai Lama: ‘a consensual figure for all Tibetans..., a figure able to transcend basic political, religious and social divisions’ (Bentz 2012b: 290). A few random interactions with Tibetans are enough to gauge the centrality of the Dalai Lama and the immense faith and respect the Tibetan people show towards him. For instance, an elderly grandmother (ama la) in her seventies said tearfully, ‘we who do not even have an ounce of land to call ours in this foreign land are able to live a good life, all because of the Dalai Lama’s efforts and hard work’. The Dalai Lama is the ‘one and only’ symbol for Tibet and the Tibetans. He is also a symbol of religion for many Buddhists around the world. And not only for Tibetans or Buddhists is the Dalai Lama an international icon and a symbol of humanity, peace, compassion and non-violence.
20The establishment of the current system of democracy in exile is a result of the Dalai Lama’s efforts and mission. The common perception of democracy as a ‘gift’ from the Dalai Lama and the reverence reserved for it are evidence of his centrality in the democratisation project. Owing to his charismatic presence (Bentz 2012b: 298) and Tibetans’ unquestioned faith in him, the Dalai Lama has been a key figure in constructing Tibetan democracy as it exists today. At the start of his exile – an exile the Tibetans thought would be temporary but which is still ongoing –, the Dalai Lama presented democracy as the ‘only choice’ (Brox 2008: 71) available to the Tibetans. Democracy was strategically introduced in exile to provide the Tibetan population with ‘security for the present and hope for the future’ (McConnell 2016: 99). Democracy becomes a springboard for connecting the past with a desired future of a democratic Tibet, allowing for continuity in its political legitimacy. Until 2011, the fourteenth Dalai Lama was both the executive and the spiritual head of the Tibetans. In 2011, the Dalai Lama devolved all his political authority upon the elected leadership. However, on requests from the Tibetan representatives, he remains advisor and guide to the Tibetan leadership and the people. Regarding the transition to democracy and the devolution of powers by the Dalai Lama, McConnell (2016: 100) suggests that these are a ‘key stabilising mechanism in light of an imminent power vacuum after the current Dalai Lama passes away’. However, this devolution has been accepted with some resistance by the Tibetan populace. The elderly man who earlier called the Dalai Lama the ‘one and only’, when asked how he felt when the Dalai Lama had devolved his powers upon the Sikyong (political leader), said, ‘it was not right… no one can rule and guide like the Dalai Lama’. Furthermore, the case described at the beginning of this article, in which the parliamentarians unanimously approached the Office of the Dalai Lama for guidance, is proof of the immense presence the Dalai Lama continues to have in the democratic set-up. It is difficult to imagine the permanent alienation of the figure of the Dalai Lama from the nationalistic and democratic discourse in exile.
21As a ‘higher being’ (Frechette 2007: 99) whose wisdom transcends mortal capacities, any and everything to do with the Dalai Lama is considered to be sacred and precious. Having been blessed or touched by the Dalai Lama is considered virtuous. A morsel of food from which he has taken a bite is shared amongst many people as it is believed to be blessed. Now let us consider democracy, a project spearheaded by the Dalai Lama who has invested a great deal during his exile in nurturing a democratic system. There is an uncontested belief among Tibetans that democracy, for them, is a gift from the Dalai Lama; therefore; democracy becomes an object of deep reverence and value. If even a small piece of food from the Dalai Lama is treated with such intensity of emotions, imagine what democracy would mean to a Tibetan populace who did not have to fight for it like other communities around the world. In the interviews I conducted, this reverence towards democracy was very potent and the people wholeheartedly accepted that democracy is indeed a gift. When I asked the question ‘what do you think about the common phrase that democracy is a gift?’ people responded in ways that meant that it was not in fact a question. Popo-Tsering, an elderly man, aged 79, who had escaped Tibet in the 1960s as a monk before joining the army in exile, agreed with the same zeal that democracy is a gift. He said that Tibetans are extremely privileged in that they were given a ‘ready-to-use’ democracy (bza chog chog thung chog chog), hinting that they did not have to struggle for democracy but were presented with it ready-made. He even exclaimed that it is rare or unseen in the world for someone with power and authority (rkubkyag, lit. chair, seat) to willingly and voluntarily give it all as the Dalai Lama has. He said that Tibetans are therefore very fortunate. Democracy was presented by the Dalai Lama to the Tibetans who accepted it with reverence and a deep sense of indebtedness for this ‘gift’.
22Labelling Tibetan democracy a gift from the Dalai Lama triggers conversations about the meanings of gift and the way to deal with this gift. Instituting democracy was one of the foremost engagements of the Dalai Lama on reaching India. For the past six decades, Tibetans have practised democracy in their own ways. The Tibetan way of doing democracy is not the same as the way democracy is practised elsewhere, or even in India, the host country. Democracy as such may consist of certain universal elements such as freedom, welfare or specific institutions, but how these values are understood, implemented and negotiated are matters dependent on the context and the people, something Brox (2016: 2) would call ‘translations ‘of democracy. Studying Tibetan democracy as a gift from the Dalai Lama would give an idea about how Tibetans make meaning(s) of democracy and its consequences.
23Douglas (2012: xi), in her foreword to Mauss’s The Gift, wrote that ‘the whole society can be described by the catalogue of transfers that map all the obligations between its members. The cycling gift system is the society’. Therefore, studying gifts can illuminate a whole society, as gifts are not just objects passed from one person to another but are embedded with the processes of society-making. Exchanging gifts involves relation-making. Marcel Mauss (2012: 50) expounds on the three obligatory aspects of gift-giving: the obligation to give, the obligation to receive and the obligation to reciprocate. Amidst the giving, receiving and reciprocation operate social processes of identification and recognition: only when one engages with another can one be identified or recognised; thus, gifts are productive. Similarly in the Tibetan case, accepting democracy as a gift underpins a kind of relationship between the Dalai Lama and the Tibetans wherein the Dalai Lama is recognised as the symbol for Tibet and as a manifestation of Avalokiteshvara.
24Responding to the incident that was described in the introduction, the artist Cactus drew an illustration for Phayul which said that ‘our democracy was a gift, and gifts aren’t returned back’ (fig 2).
Fig 2: Illustration by Cactus for Phayul, 24 May 2021
Source: http://www.phayul.com/2021/05/25/45698/ Date: 2021.
25All this raises the question of what it means to call democracy a gift, why this gift cannot be returned, how to return it or what is so inappropriate in the return. The Maussian idea of the ‘spirit of the gift’ is helpful here. Mauss discusses the Maori idea of the ‘hau’, the spiritual power innate in things that have been given, which obliges the receiver to reciprocate. Otherwise, it is believed that ‘serious harm might befall [them]’ (2012: 14-15). The gift then is not ‘inactive’ (Mauss 2012: 15) but is animated with the spiritual and personal forces of the giver which elicits reciprocation. Mauss has been critically scrutinised by many authors for his understanding of the ‘spirit of the gift’. However, its salience as a concept cannot be denied (Graeber 2001: 155). Sherry observes that
once an individual invests psychic energy in an object, the object becomes ‘charged’ with the energy of that agent. Objects become containers for the being of the donor, who gives a portion of that being to the recipient. This metaphoric conception of gift exchange alludes to the symbolic encoding of the gift with connotative meaning. (Sherry 1983: 159)
26The animated gift is an embodiment of the giver, which personifies the ‘permanence of the original donor’s rights’ (Godelier 1999: 44). The gift or the valuable has a force of its own which obligates the recipient to reciprocate the gift (and to do so in an appropriate manner). In the exchange of gifts, the honour of both the giver and receiver are engaged, and therefore reciprocation must be of equal level or higher status (Mauss 2012: 42–55). This idea of an ‘active’ gift is visible in the Tibetan case where democracy is considered a gift from the Dalai Lama and is therefore suffused with some personal essence of the Dalai Lama himself. For Cactus, the aforementioned artist, it seems that the inability of the TPiE to resolve the impasse problem and the fact that they had to involve the Dalai Lama who had devolved his powers is akin to an inappropriate return of the gift of democracy.
27Graeber (2001: 167) emphasises the fact that, to understand the gift, one must understand local ideas about personhood and local world views. In the Tibetan case, the Dalai Lama, as a symbol for Tibet and a manifestation of Avalokiteshvara, is an enlightened ‘higher being’ (Frechette 2007: 99) whose presence transcends everything. For the Tibetans, the gift of democracy is not just any gift but a gift from the Dalai Lama, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. This gift of democracy is animated by the personhood of the Dalai Lama and is therefore accepted as precious and sacred (Frechette 2007: 116) with faith-like reverence and a sense of indebtedness. The translation of the Dalai Lama’s sanctity and spirit onto democracy has characterised it as something sacred which belongs to a higher spiritual realm. This intricate connection between the Dalai Lama and democracy which disengages democracy from any form of noise or negative influences. A sacred democracy allows only sanitised engagement which is protected from any disorder, without more openly conflictual debate. Any form of chaos, disagreement or disorder in the way democracy functions is treated as a direct sign of disrespect and ungratefulness towards the Dalai Lama, and therefore the Tibetan cause. Bentz (2012b: 296) says that ‘when the Dalai Lama is ridiculed, this has an impact on the Tibetan cause, which he both represents and defends’. A dysfunctional or chaotic democracy is seen as a failure of the democratic project the Dalai Lama has spread and therefore projects a negative image in the international arena.
28There is an inherent danger in constructing everything around the Dalai Lama. As Basu rightly points out
The evocative strength of the symbol of the Dalai Lama is directly counterpoised by a corresponding vulnerability: the unitary character of a summarising symbol allows little possibility for adaptive reformulations when the social matrix that originally produced it undergoes radical change. This singularly remains the challenge of the Tibetan diaspora. (Basu 2018: 81)
29Adding to this, Bentz (2012b: 290) argues that, unlike the American flag – an object that Ortner takes as an example – the symbol in the Tibetan case is a person in flesh-and-blood who is subject to change and death. Therefore, centring anything and everything Tibetan around the Dalai Lama is dangerous, and the system risks being paralysed when the current Dalai Lama will no longer be there. It is a well-known fact that the Dalai Lama himself is aware of the power he wields amongst Tibetans and the dangers of being the only symbol for the people. As an alternative to this situation, the Dalai Lama has framed and promoted democracy amongst the Tibetans as a symbol of the people to ensure the ‘continuity of political legitimacy’ of the structure in exile and to rightfully fill the power vacuum once the current Dalai Lama passes away (McConnell 2016: 99–100). According to Basu, the Dalai Lama is perhaps the only ‘Tibetan symbol that can transcend the potentially destructive factionalism of political groupings’ (2018: 82) and unite Tibetans in their fight for their homeland. If the Tibetan cause does not see any developments during the time of the current Dalai Lama, there is a huge risk of the Tibetan nation falling apart and therefore challenging the durability of the Tibetan cause. It is within such a vulnerable context that democracy, strategically introduced, has the capacity to overcome these challenges. With the devolution of his political power in 2011, the Dalai Lama formally gave the reins of Tibetan democracy to the people. However, the constant evocation and involvement of the Dalai Lama by the Tibetan populace in matters of democracy, as is evident in the case described at the start of this article, limits the potential of democracy. Tibetans are socialised into a notion of sacred democracy which reflects or embodies the Dalai Lama. Such a conceptualisation of democracy is detached from the everyday workings of democracy, which are usually characterised by discussions, exchanges, differences, disagreements and disorder. If indeed the ‘advance of democracy transforms subjects into citizens’ (Béteille 2012: 8), an active public sphere driven by Tibetans would be a marker of that transformation which we see as lacking in the Tibetan space.
30In India, ‘democracy emerged… out of a confrontation with a power imposed from outside rather than an engagement with the contradictions inherent in Indian society’ (Béteille 2012: 9–10). Similarly, the Tibetan democratic journey took shape in exile against Chinese repression and was constructed with a future-oriented goal of returning to a free homeland. This democracy was embraced by the Tibetans as a ‘gift’ from the Dalai Lama. The intermeshing of all these factors has lent a unique character to the Tibetan democracy in which much has been invested in building a strong nation with a democratic foundation geared towards the achievement of the political goal of regaining the homeland. In India, too, the development of its democracy was first and foremost a freedom struggle against the colonial rulers wherein ‘the building of new political institutions took second place, and the creation of the economic and social conditions for the successful operation of those institutions, such as education, health care, and other social services, lagged well behind’ (Béteille 2012: 10). As is always the case when one aspect is prioritised, other elements are compromised. Similarly, in the Tibetan case, the nationalist discourse in exile has driven democracy in a particular direction. Democracy is saturated with nationalistic ideas of regaining the lost homeland which leaves very little room for other aspects of democracy to flourish. This article deals with one such neglected aspect: the public sphere.
31Habermas (1989: 117) outlines the ‘bourgeois public sphere’ as being made up of private people gathered together and engaging in a rational-critical debate to articulate society’s needs with the state. His work traces the journey from a ‘public critically reflecting on its culture to one that merely consumes it’ amidst the rise of capitalism, the growth of corporations and the increasing presence of the media (Habermas 1989: 175). The Habermasian public sphere is a ‘space of institutions and practices between the private interests of everyday life in civil society and the realm of state power’ (Kellner 2000: 4) where individuals openly discuss common public concerns with little fear of consequences. In eighteenth-century France when social mobility and intermingling was difficult to imagine, men from the nobility and the bourgeois classes gathered in salons to talk about art, literature, economics and politics (Habermas 1989: 31–36). In a highly hierarchised society, a space was created where one’s status did not preclude one’s engagement in intelligent discourse. Of course, this public sphere of the salon is far from equality as we imagine it today, as only educated men were allowed. However, the creation of such spaces where criticality and rationality were prioritised is one of the first manifestations of the public sphere, and the value of this concept is still very potent. According to Fraser, the public sphere
designates a theatre in modern societies in which political participation is enacted through the medium of talk. It is the space in which citizens deliberate about their common affairs, hence, an institutionalised arena of discursive interaction. This arena is conceptually distinct from the state; it is a site for the production and circulation of discourses that can in principle be critical of the state. (Fraser 1990: 57)
32Fraser (1990: 70) takes the notion of public sphere further by suggesting the existence of multiple public spheres or counter publics instead of a single one, and argues that discursive equality on all fronts in one public sphere is not possible. No one would disagree that a vibrant public sphere is essential for achieving the necessary conditions for democracy. But, as mentioned before, it would be almost impossible to find the same kind of democracy in every context; instead, what we find are translations of the concept of democracy. Similarly, the notion of public sphere is appropriated by different people and contexts to meet their needs and conditions. Paley uses the term ‘accountable democracy’ (2004: 498) to emphasise the importance of public deliberation in policy aspects when she says ‘my point is not to discredit deliberation but, instead, to identify it as a necessary but insufficient condition for democracy, which must also entail the impact of public opinion of public policy and law’ (2004: 497). To Habermas’s normative framework of the public sphere (where people deliberate and communicate on matters of public concern), Paley adds the idea that citizens’ deliberation should have an impact on policy to produce a more democratic society (2004: 497).
33In addition to the context of exile within which the Tibetan nation in exile and democracy germinated, there also exist certain conditions for the public sphere. Tibetan democracy functions in a nationalist framework wherein the cause of Tibet, the common project of returning to the homeland, is a higher cause than the practice of democracy itself. Brox (2016: 263) notes that ‘[m]ost Tibetans view these two [freedom struggle and democracy] as disconnected projects in which “free Tibet” represents a “higher cause”, compared to democracy that is identified as “lower politics”’. Democracy becomes a means to achieve an ultimately noble end. With the nationalist discourse so focussed on the Tibetan struggle, other aspects of democracy – discussions, dialogues, disagreements, differences – are sidelined and seen as causing trouble (rnyog dra kyi rtsa va) especially when discussions concern elections or political workings. A 37-year-old man expressed his worries when I asked about developments in Tibetan democracy, referring to the elections of 2011 and 2016. He said, ‘it is worrisome that in just half a decade, we have already had so many issues and troubles, I don’t think it is helpful at all, for our struggle’, and added that ‘if people from outside see it, it is shameful’. Labelling these discussions as causing trouble or jeopardising the overall struggle highlights the degree of aversion and sensitivity amongst the Tibetan people. This aversion is the most pronounced in the case of elections in the Tibetan diaspora, as shall be seen in the next section.
34This is not to say that public space as such does not exist at all in the Tibetan case – it certainly does exist but is restricted and minimal. Tibetan democracy is so saturated with the nationalist discourse that critical communication and discussion of public matters, whether political or social, do not get much space: critical internal questioning becomes secondary to the nationalist project of returning home. Tibetans do express concern over social issues such as education, gender, youth employment, welfare and others but these spaces are perceived to be limited to experts. However, initiatives like the Tibetan Equality Project (a space for the Tibetan queer community) and Drokmo (an organisation focussed on gender) have kickstarted conversations on these sidelined topics. Similarly, The Tibetan Centre for Human Rights and Democracy (TCHRD) started a campaign called ‘YouthQuake’ wherein they engage in discussions with different groups of young people on the topic of Tibetan democracy. There is also ‘Democracy and Debate’, a channel on YouTube run by students and professionals with the aim of ‘improv[ing] Tibetan democracy by creating a platform for open discussion and educating society’. These initiatives are the start of a public sphere of discussion on democracy but seem to be a long way from changing the status quo where democracy is treated as a ‘gift’ and a means to achieving the nationalist goal of returning home.
35The Tibetan general elections are held every five years and any Tibetan above the age of 18 who has a Green Book can directly elect the Sikyong, along with the 45 members of parliament. The Tibetan democracy is a partyless democracy and has a unicameral legislative body. The TPiE consists of 45 members: ‘10 representatives from each of the three traditional provinces of Tibet ie U-Tsang, Dhotoe and Domey; two from each of the four schools of Tibetan Buddhism and the pre-Buddhist Bon religion; and two representing each of the Tibetan communities in North America and Europe; plus one from Australasia and Asia (excluding India, Nepal and Bhutan)’.8 According to Shain (1989: 2), the ‘two main concerns that affect all exile political activists and shape their behaviour are “national loyalty” and “recognition”’. Elections are the stage where both national loyalty and recognition are secured. In the Tibetan case, elections function in two ways: internally, voting with one’s Green Book is an act of legitimising the exile administration and thereby promoting the nationalist struggle; and externally, elections are an appeal for recognition and support from democracy-loving states and individual liberals, including activists and politicians outside the Tibetan diaspora.
36In Why India Votes? Banerjee (2014: 4–10) studies ordinary Indians’ experiences of voting and elections and the meanings they confer on these processes. Elections are undoubtedly one of the most characteristic markers of democracy, perhaps even a precondition. Elections are also performative in that they have an effect. The voting rights of Tibetans under the TGiE area reminder of one’s statelessness which is a historical, political and moral claim of nationhood and also a political critique of the repressive Chinese rule in Tibet (Gupta 2019: 333). Therefore, Tibetans regard voting and elections as a serious matter, almost as a sacred responsibility. As Banerjee says,
Voting is not just a means to elect a government. Rather, the very act of voting is seen by them as meaningful, as an end, which expresses the virtues of citizenship, accountability and civility that they wish to see in ordinary life, but rarely can. (Banerjee 2014: 3)
37However, simply casting one’s vote does not equate with a full-fledged participatory democracy. For instance, voting in Nagaland is done collectively or by what is called ‘proxy-voting’ wherein votes are cast on behalf of people or clans who do not necessarily go to the voting booth (Wouters et al 2019), which runs counter to the election motto ‘one vote one person’. For Tibetans, voting is a sacred act. Everyone I corresponded with for this research had cast their vote for both the Sikyong elections and the local Chief Representative Office (CRO) elections. Dawa, a 50-year-old man who runs a shop in Leh said, ‘This gift of democracy was given to us because it was needed. Being a Tibetan, one is given one right, the right to vote, and one should prioritise it and decide for oneself who to vote for’. In a similar vein, Dolma and Penpa, an elderly couple aged 79 and 83 respectively, proudly said that they have voted in every election at all levels (Sikyong, local CRO and even the camp elections). They talked very passionately about Tibet and, when asked about voting, they said they considered it their right but also their responsibility.
- 9 Lukzi Films. ‘In Conversation with Jamyang Sherab || Ladakh Sonamling Cro Candidate| Q&A | (...)
38Tibetans take a keen interest in the political workings of the Tibetan administration in exile but are averse to anything which disrupts unity and undermines the Tibetan struggle. Consequently, discussions or debates about the government in exile and its workings are minimal or at best avoided. Dawa, the shop owner, explained the futility of public discussions. He said, ‘a good use of pen and paper would be when one writes words that are useful and not when one writes useless and unhelpful things’. He continued: ‘since our society is very sensitive (khrugpo), debates will cause instability’. Similar aversion is seen in another case. In Ladakh, where this research was conducted, a few youths decided to organise a ‘public debate’ between the two candidates for the local CRO elections.9 When I interviewed the organisers, they said that they thought that it was important to bring the candidates together with the general public for a discussion. It was indeed a fresh initiative, but a public debate did not take place, because one of the candidates refused on the grounds that discussions are a source of trouble. Therefore, instead of calling it a ‘debate’, the organisers referred to it as being ‘in conversation with’ the other candidate.
- 10 A case in point is the recent controversy over the interaction between the Dalai La (...)
39The Tibetan struggle opposes the Chinese government who occupies their land and continues to destabilise the community in exile.10 Tibetans need to show a strong united front against the Chinese state. Therefore, any inkling of disunity or fracture in the Tibetan community is a direct symptom of weakening national solidarity. Mention of China or the Chinese government is a metaphor within common Tibetan parlance for disunity, disturbance or rupture, and there is always the fear that a Chinese spy might be amongst the people. Popo-Penpa, the 83-year-old grandfather, was relatively sure that the Chinese were behind all the destabilising activities or trouble during the elections. He said that those creating ‘trouble’ in society were backed financially by the Chinese government. Another 34-year-old woman, who has spent about three years volunteering at the Regional Tibetan Women’s Association, when asked about how the election campaigns were, said that ‘healthy discussions are good but what we see now in our society disrupts our unity and harms our Tibetan struggle’. She added that ‘there is no need for Chinese then’, meaning that if Tibetans themselves can ruin their unity and harm their Tibetan struggle, the Chinese do not need to come do it for them. She went on to say, ‘our main aim (dmigsyul) is to not forget Tibet, and to work hard for our Tibetan cause, but if we get occupied with these things [referring to dialogues and discussions], then it slows down our pace’. As I further inquired whether democracy was harming the struggle, she said,
It is not that democracy is bad or anything. For instance, it is unthinkable to imagine people from the older generations expressing their opinions … [however] we have slowed down in our initial and larger project and I would like us to speed things up.
- 11 This may be specific to the Indian context and may not be true in all Tibetan communities, (...)
40Moreover, with only around several thousand Tibetans in exile, maintaining peace and harmony is regarded as the most important. Therefore, most people prefer to stay silent rather than engage in discussions which they believe will not only upset the Dalai Lama but also jeopardise their struggle. When I asked Popo-Pema about the absence of debate amongst Tibetans, he said, ‘The community is so close, there is some hesitation, which is why people don’t speak up much’. He continued, ‘Why forge enmity when we know that we will see each other again?’ Another man in his fifties, when asked about why he does not engage in discussions at his camp’s meeting, responded, ‘I am worried that what I may say might hurt someone, so it is better to keep quiet’.11
41As I have shown in this article, Tibetan democracy is constituted within a nationalist framework which prioritises the goal of returning to a free Tibet. Moreover, as a ‘gift’ from the Dalai Lama, democracy is treated as a sacred reflection of the Dalai Lama himself. Instituting democracy in exile was framed as necessary for a democratic free Tibet, but it was also to ensure political continuity in the future when the current Dalai Lama will no longer be there. However, the constant evocation and involvement of the Dalai Lama in democratic functions fail the purpose of instituting democracy in the first place: providing an alternative to the figure of the Dalai Lama as a unifying symbol for Tibetans. With democracy centred around the Tibetan struggle and the Dalai Lama, some aspects of democracy – discussions, dialogues, disagreements, differences – are seen as harming the Tibetan cause, which thereby limits full development of a critical democratic public sphere.
Acknowledgements
I am very grateful to all the Tibetans of Sonamling settlement whom I interviewed. It would have been difficult to conduct this research without their enthusiasm and kind help. I am also very grateful to Ashoka University for creating a programme like the Master of Arts in Liberal Studies (MLS) where students like myself with an interest in research myself with to practise it firsthand. My deepest gratitude goes to Professor Swargajyoti Gohain under whose supervision and encouragement I was able to effectively learn the processes of conducting research. And lastly, thanks go to the anonymous reviewers for their helpful suggestions and all the individuals who were there during the entire duration of this research.