The Sun-Herald

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Hoping humanity will prevail

In the week since I last wrote about the crisis in Tibet, events in the region have delivered both hope and despair to those who long for a peaceful solution.

The most urgent concern for those with families and friends inside Tibet is the reports of continuing house arrests, detentions and disappearances. "They are taking people at night," one of my contacts told me today. "The police came this week to a nunnery near my home town and took between 15 and 20 nuns away in their nightclothes."
Tibetans here say they are also deeply concerned by news that those inside Tibet with family known by the Chinese authorities to be involved in protests in other countries - including Australia - are being arrested. "They hope to intimidate us into not taking part in public demonstrations," says a local Tibetan. "This is nothing new - we are aware that our activities are monitored - but it's even more worrying now as we know so many of our relatives and friends are already in very bad situations, with no food supply or trapped in their homes."
Meanwhile, human rights groups fear for the welfare of the 15 monks who were arrested on March 10 for their peaceful protest in Lhasa. These young men were not involved in any violence, but still remain in detention.
Similarly, there is no information about the fate of the monks from Lhasa's Jokhang monastery who last week interrupted a government-organised press visit there to tell journalists tearfully that: "what the government is saying is not true." As a local Tibetan ex-political prisoner says: "I have seen first hand what happens to people there who demonstrate like that. Those monks were brave because they knew that by speaking out they were probably signing their own death warrant."
But despite the distressing news, there are still notes of hope. Influential individuals around the world are starting to voice their objections to the Chinese government's treatment of Tibetans.
There is also a growing feeling that the Olympic Games must be protected from any further irreparable damage caused by the Chinese government's resonse to the Tibetan crisis.
In the Washington Post, sports writer Sally Jenkins says: "Officials [in China] have violated the basic spirit of the event and reneged on every promise they made to the International Olympic Committee about their willingness to accommodate the world.
"The party Beijing is preparing to throw bears no resemblance to any recent Olympics: shootings, beatings, jailings, buggings, environmental crimes and paramilitary police flooding the streets..."
To protect the ideals and integrity of the Games, Jenkins suggests moving them out of China altogether and into a country better suited to host them. While this would be a crushing disappointment for the ordinary Chinese citizens eagerly anticipating the event, it is also crucial to remember that the Games belong to the world, and not exclusively to the nation who happens to be hosting them. Even those with little interest in the polemics of the Tibetan situation agree that the famous Olympic ideals should not be tarnished further by associations with a brutal regime.
Athletes are speaking up, too. In France, a group of top sports stars have signed a written appeal to Hu Jintau not to spoil the Games. They say: "the Chinese government promised to respect human rights. Yet, the violent repression in Tibet seriously questions this commitment given to the Olympic movement".
Other religious communites are expressing support for the Tibetan struggle for religious freedom. In the Jerusalem Post, Ari Rifkin compares the oppression of Tibetans to the historical persecution of his own race. "How long will it be," he asks, "before Tibetans are viewed as a relic, and perhaps bothersome, minority in their homeland similar to the condition of Native Americans in the United States, Formosans in Taiwan, or Serbs in Kosovo?"
Other commentators are dismayed by the inflammatory tone of the Chinese official pronouncements, and the aggressive nationalistic fervour they appear to be stirring up within a population conditioned to accept without question their government's every utterance.
Says Tibetan scholar and activist Josh Schrei: "I am legitimately frightened by the venomous rhetoric that the Chinese government hurls at the Dalai Lama. I am even more alarmed to see a dramatic rise in nationalist vitriol emanating from the Chinese people -- and especially young Chinese students -- towards Tibetans, who, with rare exception over the last 50 years, have been, though discontent, peaceful. Until last week, Tibetans had not been involved in a serious outbreak of violence since 1959. And yet the Chinese government and the Chinese people are behaving as if they are - in the words of one Beijing official 'engaged in a fierce battle of blood and fire with the Dalai clique, a life-and-death struggle between the foe and us...'
The above comment contrasts starkly with the language used in the Dalai Lama's public statements. In his latest, he says: "Chinese brothers and sisters - wherever you may be - with deep concern I appeal to you to help dispel the misunderstandings between our two communities. Moreover, I appeal to you to help us find a peaceful, lasting solution to the problem of Tibet through dialogue in the spirit of understanding and accommodation."
Despite his consistently conciliatory overtures, the Tibetan leader has been variously branded a "liar" and "devil" in response. But he remains confident there is a diplomatic solution to the crisis.
Robert Thurman, one of the world's foremost Tibet scholars, manages to find inspiration in the actions of both sides. In the Washington Post he writes: "The promise of the present moment has been precipitated first by the innovative leaders of China, gingerly stepping out into the glare of world publicity and opinion by hosting the Olympic Games and second, just now, by the brave people of Tibet stepping out on their own past the plans of their leader and, against great odds, standing up for the truth of their existence as Tibetans. Risking their very lives, they protest the total destruction of their culture, environment, and way of life."
Thurman's article stresses the immediate opportunity for China to set an example to the world with an act of compassion, dignity and wisdom. He believes, as does the Dalai Lama, in a future where all Chinese and Tibetan people can have a respectful, mutually beneficial friendship.
Right now, such a scenario is hard to envisage. But history has repeatedly proved that human beings, wherever they hail from, are just as capable of magnanimity and tolerance as they are of cruelty and injustice.
We can only hope, as the optimists among us do, that China will begin to view the outside world's urgings to change their policies on Tibet not as an affront or an intrusion but a precious chance to finally set things right there and lead the way into a new era of peace and cooperation.
Now that would be a gesture worthy of the greatest ever Olympics party in Beijing.

• by Amy Cooper at 08:46 PM
• Comments (9)

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Why we can't turn our backs on Tibet

Last time I returned to the UK, a customs official nodded at my British passport and said: "welcome home, ma'am." I felt a little warm and fuzzy then gave it no further thought, because in the free world those of us living away from our birth countries take for granted our right to go home whenever we want.

But imagine if you couldn't. Imagine if your country, your home town, your family and friends were out of bounds because a foreign power had invaded Australia and now the only people welcome there were those who agreed to cast off their Australian identity and culture and embrace those of the occupying power. Imagine if you'd had to flee because you wanted to remain Australian and to do so would mean punishment, torture or even death.
It's a repugnant scenario and almost incomprehensible to citizens in a free democracy. We resent any assault, no matter how minor, upon our values and rights. It's why we fear Osama Bin Laden's Islamic extremists: they threaten our way of life and want to impose theirs upon us.
We are fortunate that this is highly unlikely to happen to us. But for Tibetans living under Chinese rule, it has been reality for almost 50 years.
This week, as increasingly disturbing images of the Chinese crackdown on Tibetan protesters filled our screens, I watched with growing outrage and sorrow. If you believe in freedom, democracy and justice, how could you not?
In today's Sun-Herald I've written an article about local Tibetans and their responses to the crisis in their homeland. I spent the week talking to ex-political prisoners and refugees, community workers and teachers. As story after heartrending story poured out about first-hand experience of torture, oppression, persecution and suffering I knew that there would only be space on the page to print a fraction of what I'd heard. Each Tibetan ended our interview with the same plea: "Tell people to believe us. Tell them to help us. Tell them this could be our last chance."
I first met Tibetan people some years ago on a travel assignment in southwest China, in an area which historically fell within Tibetan borders. Back then, I'm ashamed to say, I knew almost nothing about their culture but I was impressed by these engaging people, their dry sense of humour and their optimism.
After the trip I set about learning as much as I could about Tibet. I had to, because the friends I'd made were not allowed to talk to me about their Buddhist religion or history. They were watched closely and constantly by both police and government informers, aware that the wrong comment at any time could send them straight to prison.
As a news journalist I'd worked in countries with repressive regimes before, but the pervasive fear and paranoia among Tibetans was the worst I'd encountered. The government's iron grip was often insidious, embedded in rules and regulations, exercised through a complex system of informants working in monasteries and Tibetan areas, and therefore often undetectable to tourists.
The same skill at stage-managing large-scale, impressive productions which helped win the the Olympics appears equally effective at misleading the outside world about how Tibetans are treated. One of the Sydney Tibetans told me how in 2005 his family in Lhasa were forced to participate in the celebrations marking the fortieth anniversary of the Tibetan Autonomous Region (the central area of old Tibet portioned off by the Chinese in 1965). It resembled a bizarre, big-budget movie set with Tibetans herded in as extras.
"On TV it all looked wonderful," he said. "There was a large crowd of Tibetans all around the Potala Palace." In reality, though, that crowd had been rounded up and forced to spend a cold, rainy night outside the palace, where the ceremony was to take place the following morning.
"They were instructed to report to the Potala Square at 10pm the night before, given raincoats and ordered not to move anywhere," said my local contact. "And the cameras didn't show the masses of armed soldiers surrounding them. They were everywhere - outnumbering the civilians, in the trees, on the grass."
I spoke to this man as part of a report I was writing about how the run-up to the Olympics was affecting life for Tibetans. One of my most disturbing discoveries was that instead of improving human rights in China, as the world had hoped, the games seemed to be serving as a justification for greater abuses.
In the last year, Tibetans here say their families and friends inside Tibet have experienced intensifying oppression. Their freedom of movement has been even further restricted and police presence at public gatherings has significantly increased. One government worker in Lhasa reported that Chinese police officers were patrolling there disguised as monks, complete with shaved heads and maroon robes. Buddhist monasteries were being scrutinised by resident government committees, which were monitoring all activity and even checking the wording of prayers for 'splittist' sentiments. There have been greater incidences of arrests and 'disappearances,' and stricter bans on celebrating religious festivals. All these crackdowns have been implemented under the banner of greater security against terrorism, for the Olympics.
Last September, an Amnesty International report echoed this concern, with AI's USA executive director Larry Cox, saying: "Flagrant human rights abuses continue in China and the appalling 're-education through labour' system appears to be flourishing in the run up to the 2008 Olympic Games. This is contrary to the Olympic Charter ideal and clearly negates the 'preservation of human dignity' that Beijing, as an Olympic host, has committed to uphold."
The implications of this are ominous: although many observers have suggested the Olympics have served as an opportunity for the Tibetans to air grievances, the Games in fact may have helped push the tensions to breaking point.
Tibetans here are adamant that the riots exploded after deliberate provocation by the Chinese. "Recently the intimidation, and the massive police and army presence at gatherings of Tibetans just became unbearable," one local told me. "I believe this was done to push us to breaking point and to therefore allow them to come down hard on Tibetans.
In the community here, rumours are even circulating about 'agent provocateurs' dressed as monks helping to incite the riots. It's impossible to confirm this, just as it's impossible to confirm just about everything happening now in Tibet due to the ban on foreign media.
What Tibetans here know for sure is that many of their families and friends in Tibet are under house arrest, Tibetans have been killed (the exile government's last estimate was 99 fatalities and they believe this could be conservative), and vast convoys of military trucks are pouring into all the Tibetan regions.
Says Lobsang, another local Tibetan: "I called a friend's mother, who lives in central Lhasa. She said she had been locked inside the house since the Friday. She is nearly 80. Soldiers carrying guns are standing outside her front door. She says if she tries to go out, she will be shot at. Even when people tried to go out onto their roofs, they have been shot at. She can't get any fresh food, so she is living on a little rice and barley flour. She is too frightened to even look out of the window because there is a soldier standing in front of it.
"House to house searches are going on. If there is a monk or nun in the house, they are taken away, no questions. Computers are also being taken away and the police are checking everyone's telephone bills to see if they have made many calls overseas."
As I write this, the Chinese government is showing no intention of softening its approach, and their rhetoric continues to be aggressive and uncompromising.
The Tibetans' greatest fear is that very soon, all access to information in the region will be blocked, and that as press attention fades and reports dwindle, the Chinese will seize their oportunity to massacre Tibetans.
One of Sydney's most respected Tibetans, Dorje Dadul, a teacher of the Tibetan language who last year won two major awards for his community work, is terrified it could be a chance to wipe out the Tibetans once and for all (there are, after all, only 6 million left and the Tibetan Government in Exile claims that 1.2 million have been killed during the 49-year occupation):
"I am really fearful for Tibetans inside Tibet," he says, "as all we can see is truckloads of army going in there. We are so frightened there will be a lot of deaths. Tibet is locked down. It is virtually a prison now. This could be the time they take the opportunity to really crack down and it could be the end of Tibet and Tibetans."
The Dalai Lama's representative in Australia, Tenzin Atisha, agrees. "My biggest fear is that in a week, when no-one is watching any more, the backlash for Tibetans will be terrible. That is when we will need to speak for them."
It is an appalling possibility, but a very real one: the world is in danger of witnessing the demise of a nation and its rich, ancient culture. Anyone who has stood, as I have, among the forlorn ruins of one of the 6,000 beautiful old monasteries destroyed in Mao's cultural revolution knows all too well the capability of the Chinese government to eradicate whatever stands in its way, no matter how precious, how peaceful or how vulnerable it is.
To allow this to happen would be obscene. As citizens of a a freedom-loving democracy, it is our moral duty to protect the liberty of others.
We have a prime minister who is elected to carry out our wishes. Tibetans are not so fortunate, but we can speak for them. This is a chance for Australian people, famous for loving a fair go, to do the right thing.
What Tibetans are asking for is hardly extreme. They want independent observers and media to be allowed access to Tibet so we can all know the truth about what's happening there; they want an end to the slaughter of their people, the freedom to practice their religion, a peaceful dialogue between the Chinese leadership and their leader, the Dalai Lama, and they want the basic human rights we take for granted.
The last word goes to Tenpa Amdo, another Sydney Tibetan: "If the free world stood up to China they would have to listen, and find a peaceful way to solve this crisis.
"If you believe in truth, please speak up for us."

Useful links:

http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=26290

http://www.freedom4tibet.org/

http://www.atc.org.au/content/view/13/76/

• by Amy Cooper at 05:26 PM
• Comments (53)

Sunday, March 16, 2008

I dont drive, but I'm very driven

While waiting for a taxi to take me and my dog from Avalon to the Eastern suburbs I wondered, not for the first time, if I should learn to drive.

The fare was inducement enough; it could have flown both dog and I to Fiji and bought us dinner on arrival and not in a scruffy little place either, but a big posh one. Yes, it seems crazy not to drive. But last time I took a very long taxi ride I decided the same thing, and that was two years ago. I am now a thirty-something non-driver.
You may mock. Drivers often do. But I have come to the conclusion that driving is not part of my destiny (or destination). I'm a member of a small, rather sheepish club called The Driven, and we're born that way. Some of us just aren't meant to be at the wheel, just as others are not meant to dance Swan Lake or write a thesis on the Patagonian toothfish or be allowed around sharp objects unsupervised.
Early indications were that the latter was true of me and vehicles of every description. In the UK we had to sit a Cycling Proficiency Test before being allowed on the roads on our pushbikes. I was the first person ever in my school to fail it. First I flunked the slalom, and you could have driven a stretch Hummer between those cones. Then, when the instructor requested an emergency stop, I flung myself one way and the bike the other and it hit him. And as it was a boy's bike and not a little pink one like all my friends had, it hurt. His reaction offered the unfortunate episode's sole useful lesson: people reserve all their best swear words for cyclists.
After a similar episode with a friend's mum's Mini Metro in an empty car park, any driving ambition I'd had ceased and I grew accustomed to life in the passenger seat, the bus seat, the train seat and the back of a cab. I also learned to ride horses, but they're not really effective urban transport unless you're in the mounted police.
My non-driving friends and I enjoy the same elements of the passenger lifestyle. We like the view from the windows, the opportunity to read, listen to your iPod, use the phone or do your make-up. We're more likely to walk short distances, which is good for our health. We can drink as much as we like and still get in the car, which is not so good for our health but great fun. And a lengthy and passionate kiss is much easier if neither of you are driving.
I like to consider myself a helpful passenger. If someone cuts up or otherwise slights my driver, I will relay the necessary finger signs and abuse so he can continue to concentrate on the road. I can hold drinks and read maps. When in enviro-friendly company I can also boast about my tiny carbon footprint. And I don't have hefty insurance, petrol and parking fine costs to pay. In short, I know my place in the car: on the left.
But still. On days like today I yearn to drive spontaneously to the first beach that takes my fancy, playing my own choice of music rather than asking a belligerent cabbie to switch off his talkback radio or his blaring footie. I'd quite like one of those 'new car smell' air fresheners all of my own. And maybe a car, too. Only a little one, mind; never, ever one of those massive armoured 4WD vehicles women round here use to transport their kids, as if the kids were ammunition or personnel. You might as well taxi a 747 around town - except that would be safer.
It would just be nice to be more, well, portable. And as cycling is clearly not an option, it may at last be time to hit the road on four wheels.
Am I mad?

• by Amy Cooper at 08:19 PM
• Comments (1)

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Why we should avoid winge drinking

I've been thinking a lot about drinking lately, and this news story about late developing tipplers has me pondering the subject even more.

In this job, alcohol is ubiquitous. When you work days in an office, everyone has a bottle of water or a cup of coffee on their desk but when you work nights at parties, no-one is ever without a glass of wine, champagne or some specially created cocktail. In the party world that is my office, booze is the oil, the currency, the constant guest and often the actual raison d'etre for every gathering.
And so I see the entire spectrum of drinkers. I witness the angry, the sad, the silly, the indiscreet, the exhibitionist and even the abstainer. And I often wonder: how much is enough?
According to that news report, some booze - especially wine - is better than none, but not too much. That makes sense, of course. Moderation always does.
But I also believe when you're drinking, attitude is just as important as amount. It certainly defines my own relationship with booze. For me, if it isn't happy drinking, I simply don't do it.
I've just had one of those months scripted by Satan; a time when no-one would blame a person for reaching into the booze cupboard and its medicinal temptations without restraint. But despite the presence of some very decent premium vodkas and a sexy, peaty malt whisky, I haven't. I don't drink for consolation or for comfort, whether alone or in company. I want my bond with the bottle to be purely celebratory. I drink only in good times, with good people.
I was brought up both to enjoy and respect alcohol - wine, especially. As soon as I was talking, Dad taught me to say 'In Vino Veritas' - truth in wine. He did it mainly to shock the neighbours, but at the same time he bequeathed a piece of Yoda-like wisdom. There is a particular moment wine drinkers know. It's like that time in the late afternoon film-makers call the 'magic hour', when the light is luminous and three-dimensional, and you see the world with a special kind of clarity.
With wine and me, something similar happens at the second glass. Thoughts focus, insights flow and solutions arrive so rapidly I often write them down (and yes, they're still viable in the morning). Several glasses later, of course, come the crazy schemes: the plans for world domination, the sea-change visions and the inventions, but the two-glass truths are trustworthy. In these moments I've looked at the man across the restaurant table and known without doubt he's not right for me. I've decided to make a career move, leave a country or gamble on a hunch. I've never regretted a single choice I've made at the second glass, and I know myself well enough to ignore the later ones.
It only works though, if that wine is drunk in the spirit of optimism, with a happy heart and preferably in the company of great friends. And I guess that then you could argue that it isn't the wine at all causing the inspirations and epiphanies, but the mindset.
I don't think that matters, nor do I know anything useful about the potential physical health benefits attached to alcohol. But I do believe booze can be your buddy - as long as you keep it as a fair weather friend.

• by Amy Cooper at 05:35 PM
• Comments (3)