LHASA, China -- Tibet has long gripped the Western imagination
as an exotic Shangri-La isolated by soaring mountains, brutal
winters and gasp-inducing thin air. Recently, it has also captured
the Chinese, who come to glimpse Buddhist pilgrims prostrating
themselves on their way to holy sites.
Encouraged by their government, some Chinese have come to the
highlands in recent years seeking something else: a better life as
pioneers in China's West. Recent turmoil serves as a reminder that
their presence isn't welcome by many Tibetans.
Wang Ruilin came to Lhasa from his hometown in coastal Shandong
nine months ago. He borrowed 60,000 yuan, about $8,500, from
friends and family and opened a small restaurant selling noodles
and dumplings.
Now, his business is little more than a pile of shattered
memories covered in broken glass, tinged with the smell of burnt
wood and plastic that hangs over parts of the city. "I lost it
all," he says, picking through the rubble.
Many Tibetans have long resented the wave of migrants changing
their culture and competing for jobs. On March 14, their anger
erupted into two days of violent protests that have unhinged the
uneasy calm between China and Tibet.
Protests started around the Ramoche Temple in Lhasa's old
Tibetan quarter about noon, when monks, sealed in by police after
earlier demonstrations, mounted rooftops and started pelting nearby
buildings. A middle school, attended mostly by Tibetan children who
are also taught Chinese, caught fire. Soon, crowds started smashing
shops, including many run by Han Chinese and a Muslim minority,
known as Hui. Banks, department stores and government offices were
burned down in an area several blocks wide.
China's government says 22 people were killed, most of them
civilians; Tibetan exiles put the number at 140. Hundreds have been
arrested. Monks remain essentially under house arrest.
"They ruined people's livelihoods, they burned a school, they
destroyed stores," says Xie Dayou, a police officer who came from
Sichuan province 20 years ago.
Waving a trembling, bandaged hand, he describes how he and other
police were surrounded by Tibetans, pelted with stones and attacked
with broken bottles. He says the violence was far worse than
anything he had seen, including protests by monks in 1989, the last
major anti-China unrest here. Still, he says, he won't leave; "This
is my hometown."
Wu Qiangyou says he came from Henan province, in central China.
His taxi's windows were smashed. "I can't sell my car; no one would
buy it," he says. "And if I don't drive, I lose 100 yuan a day. I
used to have Tibetan friends and felt pretty good about them. Not
anymore."
He says many of his Chinese friends are leaving, but he will
stay. "I can't believe something like this happened," he says.
Late last week, tensions remained high. The police presence in
the Tibetan quarter was heavy. Most shops in the narrow, winding
stone alleyways were shut.
In a rare open restaurant, a sign in English promised food for
lacto-ovo vegetarians, a sign of the eco-leaning tourists who often
visit. There were no customers. Outdoor-goods stores were shut,
too, as were most hotels, despite government assurances that Tibet
is open to tourists.
People seemed uneasy. One foreigner declined to talk long to a
reporter. "Don't believe what they tell you," she said before
rushing off. "What my Tibetan friends have told me would make you
sick to your stomach."
About four million travelers, mostly domestic tourists, visited
Tibet in 2007, up from fewer than a million in 2003, the trip made
easier by the building of the world's highest train line two years
ago.
For many Han Chinese, Tibet appeals as an exotic yet accessible
destination. With its cultural and spiritual traditions, it has
become a haven for Han Chinese artists, writers and intellectuals
looking for an alternative to materialistic modern China.
For those willing to move, China promises subsidies, tax
exemptions, education credits and preferential consideration for
government jobs. In 2005, the Tibet government offered a 2,000-yuan
bonus to students from big-name universities. Soldiers stationed
here get 2.5 times the normal pay, for what is considered a
hardship post.
There is debate about how many Han Chinese have taken up the
offers. Official figures show that at least 94% of the province's
2.81 million people are indigenous rather than ethnic Han, who
dominate China's population. On the ground in Lhasa, though, the
population of ethnic Han appears to be growing quickly, topping
indigenous Tibetans, by some estimates.
Outside experts have no doubt that China has made huge strides
to address Tibet's poverty, from funding schools and paying for
medics to visit remote villages to electrifying areas. Signs of
growth are everywhere, although Lhasa's mix of stores and concrete
housing blocks looks drearily similar to other fast-growing Chinese
cities.
For Ma Chuanming, a Muslim Hui who left a life as a poor farmer
in Gansu province, Tibet promised a better life. After looters
struck his store on the first day of riots, he and his family moved
to a government building. They watched as smoke rose from the
direction of their shop, which burned down.
He says he will rebuild. "I'm not afraid, it doesn't matter
where you go, something bad could happen," Mr. Ma says."
sounds like wat happened in myanmar recently. did asean remove
myanmar's membership then?