SECTION 6.7: - IMAGES. CORE AND SECONDARY.
The image of Tibet which the British created was multi-faceted, with secondary images (those which support, or have other purposes), around a 'core' image (that which 'gathers and organizes imagery'). [62] The core image was the political one: Tibet becoming a modern nation-state, united under a single government sovereign within its borders, and existing as a friendly neighbour to British India.
This core image was most clearly articulated by Bell, who wove the key ingredients together. Thus he described how 'Modern Tibet... rejects the Chinese suzerainty and claims the status of an independent nation', a nation in which 'national sentiment... is now a growing force'. The Dalai Lama was 'determined to free Tibet as far as possible from Chinese rule.' In this he had the support of the 'the majority of the Tibetan race...[who]... see in him ... the only means of attaining their goal.' In support of this, Bell quoted a Tibetan noble as stating that 'All [Tibetans] like his [the Dalai Lama's] having supreme power'. The attitude to Britain of this 'self-governing country', was 'one of cordial friendship’ and the Dalai Lama was quoted as saying that as British and Tibetans were 'both religious peoples', they could 'live in amity together', whereas the Chinese were not religious, and were thus incompatible with the Tibetans. Tibet would, Bell predicted, ’at length secure[s] recognition of the integrity and autonomy of her territory'. [63]
The core image which Bell articulated was the basis for the British construction of an image of Tibet. Later cadre officers followed his definitions and assumed their readers' familiarity with his works. For example, Spencer-Chapman suggested that readers might compare an illustration in his book with the same scene in an earlier work of Bell's, and Hopkinson could state in 1950 that 'I do not wish to waste your time by repeating facts of ancient history with which you are already familiar from books and articles, such as Sir Charles Bell's.'[64]
The cadre constantly reinforced this core image. Thus typically we read in these works that the 'Dalai Lama is, of course, absolute ruler in all things spiritual as well as temporal.' Cadre officers describe their 'friendly personal discussion[s]' with Tibetan officials, and state that 'Ever since 1912 the Tibetans have, in fact, been unquestionably independent.'[65]
Around this core image were secondary images, designed to reinforce the core image. These could consist of aspects of the core image which were inconsistent with European understanding being presented in positive forms; for example, the Dalai Lama's supreme authority, extreme, and certainly undemocratic by British standards, was defended; 'Naturally there will always be some who from jealousy or other motives criticize one who has the strength of character to assume such autocratic power.'[66]
Other secondary images were subjective judgments whose authority rested on that of their author's empirical observation. Thus, the aristocrats surrounding the Dalai Lama had 'the distinguished bearing and perfect natural manners of an ancient and proud civilization'. Further down the social scale were the 'common people', 'extraordinarily friendly... always cheery', who 'unwashed as they may be... are always laughing'. Certainly, as Richardson notes, with little exaggeration, visitors of different nationalities 'all agree in describing the Tibetans as kind, gentle, honest, open and cheerful': this was one of the attractions of service there. But this portrayal of Tibet in positive and sympathetic terms also served cadre interests by creating the impression of Tibet as a worthy ally. [67]
There were few aspects of the British knowledge of Tibet which could not be used as supporting elements of the core image they sought to project. Evidence of Chinese misrule, or contempt for Tibet, such as their Ambans' failure to learn Tibetan, bolstered Tibet's claim to independence, or contrasted unfavourably with British assistance, and respect for Tibetan culture. Descriptions of the Dalai Lama and his court brought out the well-ordered nature of the society, and the validity of his traditional authority. Phrases such 'The Tibetans believe...' [68] enhanced the image of Tibetans as a unified people.
By emphasising the validity of Tibetan institutions, and the cultural unity of its people, the cadre presented Tibet as a viable and friendly neighbouring state to India, with a historical culture which was of particular value. As we have seen, the cadre were keen to support travellers such as Tucci, who brought out these aspects of Tibet's historical culture. This judgment of Tibetan culture as being of value went beyond the definition of Tibetans by their culture, and clearly implied the possession of qualities which were of 'rare value to the rich diversity of the world'.[69] Tibet was promoted as possessing qualities which the West had lost, as will be seen in Section 6.10.
The reliance on a particular class of allies within Tibet, the Lhasa ruling elite, meant that the British constructed this image in line with the perspective of that elite; it was a Lhasa-centric image, which reflected a delicate balance between the requirements of the British and their Lhasa allies. The British understanding of states as defined by their centre, and their alliance with elements of the Lhasa ruling class, meant that the Lhasa perspective was privileged, and regional perspectives (including those of British observers such as W.H. King referred to in Chapter Two) were submerged.
This perspective was by no means a distortion, but regional and sectarian differences may have been subsumed by this image of unity under the unquestioned religious and secular authority of the Dalai Lama. The information obtained from the Lhasa ruling class did not, for example, articulate the interests of Eastern Tibetan principalities which sometimes aspired to closer ties with China. The need to define Tibetan structures in terms of European political formations may have prevented a fuller understanding of Tibet's power structures, relations with its neighbours, and aspirations.
The image of Tibet created by the British became the dominant political image held in the West, and, as it reflected their perspective, it has been largely accepted as accurate by the Tibetan Government-in-exile. Those aspects in which scholarship might question its accuracy are those where alternative voices are revealed, albeit without emphasis, in the available British sources. Thus questions should be asked concerning the social harmony, and sense of national and religious identity, of various communities outside Tibet's central provinces of U and Tsang, and of groups such as the Ragyaba, disposers of the dead, whose status virtually equated to India's 'untouchables'.
Such work as has been done in this area does not, however, suggest it is liable to lead to any major revisions of the received image of Tibet beyond a more balanced view of the aspirations of marginalised groups in Tibetan society. Tibet does appear to have been a relatively homogeneous society, with little opposition to the Dalai Lama's rule, and, as the British image reflects the perspective of the Dalai Lama's Government, it is a close reflection of the self-image of the Lhasa Tibetan ruling class, which remains the dominant Tibetan voice today.[70]
So what's the box score?
Let’s examine the history of the 14 Dalai Lamas:
1. The First Dalai Lama didn't even know he was one.
2. The Second Dalai Lama didn't know it either.
3. The Third Dalai Lama was a clever opportunist who usurped the good reputation of the first two “Dalai Lamas” by inventing the lineage and making himself third.
4. The Fourth Dalai Lama was a royal appointee.
5. The Fifth Dalai Lama was a killer-conqueror, and his last fifteen years of "rule" were fraudulent.
6. The Sixth Dalai Lama was murdered at the age of 23, and his appointed successor was denied office.
7. The Seventh Dalai Lama was put on the throne by the Chinese, who treated him as a figurehead.
8. The Eighth Dalai Lama was a hands-off guy who let the Chinese run the country.
9. The Ninth Dalai Lama was murdered and never ruled.
10. The Tenth Dalai Lama was murdered and never ruled.
11. The Eleventh Dalai Lama was murdered and never ruled.
12. The Twelfth Dalai Lama was murdered and never ruled.
13. The Thirteenth Dalai Lama fled twice, and rejected a defense pact from Britain that would have protected Tibet from Chinese aggression.
14. The Fourteenth Dalai Lama abdicated, never ruled the country, and has won the Nobel Peace Prize without garnering any peace.
In the end, the illustrious history of the Dalai Lamas just doesn't exist. Their sad legacy is a testament to the Byzantine manipulations of the Potala Junta. The credulous Tibetan people have been taught that they are led by a god-king, but that king is an invention of unscrupulous political strategists who sell influence as their primary product.
-- The Dalai Lamas, Prisoners of the Potala Junta, by Charles Carreon
SECTION 6.8: - THE MYSTICAL IMAGE
The principal competition to the image of Tibet produced by the cadre was, and is, the 'mystical' image, Tibet as a sacred land in which the paranormal was commonplace. This image has co-existed with a political image since the earliest European encounters with the region. [71] The mystic image was created by a different process from that of the political image, a process which has recently been examined in a seminal study by Peter Bishop. Bishop examines the writings of European travellers in and around Tibet during the period 1773-1959 to show how these works influenced the development of the idea of Tibet as a sacred site, ultimately producing an image, or series of images, which separated the concept of Tibet as a sacred site from that of Tibet as a geographical place. [72]
Although Bishop is not concerned with the historical antecedents of this ’sacred Tibet', he might be criticised for neglecting the historical basis for the European construct. Himalayan Tibet, in particular the Mount Kailas-Lake Manasarovar region, has held sacred associations for Indian religions since the pre-Christian era. There are references to the Himalayas in the earliest known Indian text, the Rg Veda, and by the period of 'Classical Hinduism' (c600 BC to c200AD) the Kailas-Manasarovar region was firmly located in the sacred geography of the sub-continent. [73] In addition to numerous references to the Himalayas as sacred sites in both of the classical Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, we have the Skanda Parana text which asserts that 'As the dew is dried up by the morning sun, so are the sins of men blotted out at the sight of the Himalayas'. [74] Tibet's image as a sacred land in the Indian imagination therefore predates the encounter with the West.
European mystical discourse on Tibet was aimed at other Europeans, and was expressed in the language of myth, not reality. Hence it contrasted with the more prosaic views of those in regular contact with the Tibetans. But as the cadre also appealed to a European audience they were forced to confront this alternative image, and they found it could serve as a useful secondary image with which to promote the idea of Tibet as a separate state. The two images were separate, and my concern is not with the construction or content of this mystical image, but the means by which the cadre dealt with it demonstrates their ability to use images for a political purpose.
The mystical image was part of the attraction of service in Tibet. Younghusband in particular understood Lhasa as having a wider, symbolic significance, and underwent powerful spiritual experiences there which led him to pursue this path at the expense of his career in government service. Significantly, this in no way damaged his prestige within the Tibet cadre, and the last British Political Officer Sikkim, Arthur Hopkinson, also retired to a spiritual life (albeit in more conventional form as an Anglican clergyman). Tibetan religion was of genuine interest to most cadre officers, and while, as Mark Cocker has observed, the Younghusband Mission failed to confirm 'the mystic image of Tibet in some empirically verifiable form', it remained part of the allure of service there. [75]
The cadre found that this pre-existing image could serve British interests and reach a wider audience than their own. There was no inherent conflict between the two images. It was not a political issue in the sense that neither the Chinese, nor the Russians, sought political benefit by emphasising Tibet's mystical aura. The mystic image reinforced Tibet's separate identity, and was a positive moral image, both factors which the cadre sought to emphasise; it could, therefore, assist British aims.Consequently, as long as travellers avoided referring to political matters, and maintained British prestige, the cadre had no particular objection to the Tibetan journeys of those sincerely interested in Tibet's spiritual culture. [76] They took a benign view of even the most eccentric of these visitors if they steered clear of political matters, but sought to exclude even renowned scholars whom they considered politically unreliable.[77]
Alexandra David-Neel trod a fine line here. While the British objected to her ignoring their frontier travel regulations, and commenting on the British policy of excluding travellers from Tibet, her works were immensely popular, and enhanced Tibet's separate identity, thus furthering British Indian interests. There was also a personal factor in that David-Neel studied Tibetan mysticism while generally remaining within the Western academic tradition, a synthesis the cadre could admire. By presenting herself as a pro-British European with a similar class background and attitudes to the cadre's own, she gained their acceptance as a harmless, even admirable, traveller from within the tradition of aristocratic European 'eccentrics'.[78]
Thus mysticism added to the attraction of Tibet, and the mystical image was implicitly encouraged by the cadre through their writings. While these inherently contradicted many aspects of the mystical image through positivist analysis, and because the authors had not observed any scientifically inexplicable events there, these works simultaneously enhanced the image by their use of metaphors and symbols of remote space, isolation, and timelessness. For example, the introduction to Younghusband's account of his mission to Lhasa describes Tibet as 'a mysterious, secluded country in the remote hinterland of the Himalayas'.[79] That they did not observe any scientifically inexplicable events was even a matter of regret to the British in Tibet. Spencer-Chapman, Secretary on the Gould Mission to Lhasa in 1936-37, observed that the Tibetans 'may believe implicitly in various psychic phenomena' but that 'I was never fortunate enough to witness these myself.[80]
There were limits to the cadre's endorsement of Tibetan mysticism. In practice the cadre were reluctant to accept incidents which the Tibetans regarded as miraculous. MacDonald described seeing the corpse of a Chumbi Valley monastery oracle, only for the 'corpse' to revive four days later. 'I suppose' wrote MacDonald 'this must have been a case of suspended animation, for no other explanation would fit the circumstances.' On the other hand, Bell, in an unpublished manuscript, observed without comment that the Gangtok Residency had ghosts. There was an 'apparition of an old women, also a boy and girl' which were harmless, but there was also a ghost described as having 'the body of a red mule and the head of tiger'. Bell wrote that 'whenever one of my police orderlies saw it he fired a shot at it immediately’.[81]
It appears that such tales partly reflected a sense of Tibet's distinctive 'Otherness'. Photographs in the officers' books must also have reinforced this sense. For however familiarising the text, there was little or nothing familiar in the photographs, and much that was strange to the European mind, such as frozen waterfalls and 'A Priest..[with]..cup made from a skull, and drum made from two skulls'. This latter image of 'Otherness' proved a particularly strong one; Bell, MacDonald, and Spencer-Chapman all included a similar illustration.[82] Ultimately the cadre were content to support the mystical image because of its political value in demonstrating that Tibet had a valuable, unique culture, and a distinct identity.
SECTION 6.9: - 'FAMILIAR' OR ’OTHER'
The need to present Tibet as both a worthy ally of the British and a separate and distinct entity from China meant that the image which the British constructed contained elements in which Tibet was rendered as ’Other'. It also had elements in which it was portrayed as 'familiar'. This paradox was never fully resolved. As Peter Bishop states, 'Tibet...always sustained an independent Otherness', it was 'imbued with a mixture of both the romance of the unknown and the defence of the known.'[83]
Despite their partial endorsement of Tibet's 'strangeness', the cadre did attempt to define and describe Tibet in terms which would transform it from 'Other' to 'familiar' in the European consciousness. This was part of a wider effort aimed at enabling Europeans to 'know' and understand the world, but it also had distinct political implications. Tibet was not a British colony, but a buffer against Chinese and Russian intrusion into India. This meant that Tibet was not placed in opposition to British interests and was partly removed from colonial discourse. As an 'ally' of British India, Tibet had to be portrayed in a positive, 'familiar', light.
The works of officers such as Bell and MacDonald played an important part in bringing Tibet into the realm of the 'familiar'. One method they used was a common journalistic device, applying comparisons to translate Tibetan institutions and personalities into familiar images. Lhasa was compared with Rome, the Dalai Lama with the Pope, and Sera and Drepung monasteries with Oxford and Cambridge. Bell even translated Tibetan personal names in an effort to make them more 'familiar'; thus he refers to Tsarong (Shape) as 'Clear Eye'.[84]
Spencer-Chapman was a strong exponent of this technique. He noted, for example, that 'As Salisbury Cathedral towers above the city and plain at its feet, so the Potala completely dominates the vale of Lhasa.' He described how Nayapso la 'looks more like a Scottish loch every day except there is no heather on the hills', and, in common with many other observers, found that Tibetan Buddhist 'ritual and chanting recalls a Roman Catholic High Mass'. This effort to present aspects of Tibet in terms familiar to Europeans was made in the language of the dominant culture with which these authors identified, whether they were British or otherwise. Thus MacDonald described how, 'The climate of the Chumbi Valley is ideal, not unlike that of England', although at the time he wrote this he had never been to England![85]
We have previously noted indications that the production of an image of Tibet was principally aimed at readers of the cadre's own social class, and that the earliest emphasis in the building up of a body of knowledge of Tibet was upon items likely to be of military or strategic value against foreign powers.[86] In that this knowledge was shaped by a hierarchical power relationship, as it was produced by the Government of India as a part of their concern with the security of India's northern border, it can be seen to have been produced as an element of colonial domination. Yet knowledge which was of military value had restricted circulation. The image of Tibet ’produced’ by the British (after the early period of conflict with Tibet) was predominantly a positive image. It reinforced, and to an extent created, Tibetan identity, and was thus useful as much to the Tibetan Government as to the Government of India.
Colonial discourses of control were designed to reinforce an image of the subject peoples as requiring, or even desiring, European rule, and were expressed in terms of 'Otherness'. While the cadre certainly promoted such images, particularly in the early years of the Tibetan encounter, once it had become apparent that Whitehall would not permit an extension of British Indian authority across the Tibetan frontier, there was a concerted effort to portray Tibet as a country whose people shared British aspirations towards freedom and independence.
The predominant mode of expression in British Tibetan discourse appears more akin to what Lionel Caplan, in discussing the image of the Gurkhas, has called 'a pastoral mode', than to that of 'Orientalism'. As Caplan notes, scholars such as Ronald Inden have argued that Orientalist writing on South Asia 'places exclusive stress on difference'. Caplan has shown the Gurkha as represented in the writings of British military officers, as 'having become an honorary European, assuming the latter's characteristics and sharing his attitudes to and distance from the Oriental "other",' The cadre attempted to portray Tibetans similarly as 'familiar'.[87]
The 'pastoral' mode, a term originally used by Kenneth Burke, describes a discourse in which subordinate peoples in the imperial process are represented in approving terms, enabling unequal relationships to be portrayed as characterised by 'immense courtesy, respect and affection'. While maintaining the dominant aspect of the relationship, this discourse is not primarily concerned with power, in the sense usually associated with 'Orientalism'. The subjects are not exoticised, rather the shared inherent qualities of both parties are emphasised, and the paternal relationship is portrayed as based on mutual respect. [88]
While this pastoral mode is, Caplan concludes, Orientalist in the sense that it is knowledge which speaks for others, and in that it 'functions as an element of (colonial or neo-colonial) domination', it is principally an attempt to bring the subjects into the 'familiar'. Caplan describes a discourse of 'self-reflection', produced by authors who were primarily ex-Gurkha officers, with 'a vested interest in the subject'. Their production of this perspective can be seen against the background of the authors' desire to protect their interests at a time of change, and was aimed primarily at the dominant class, 'whatever its effect on the subordinate classes'.[89] In the Tibetan context this is characterised by the writings of Bell and Macdonald.
Caplan's conclusion that the 'pastoral' mode represents an attempt to transform its subjects into the 'familiar' equates with that of Bishop, who uses terms which imply transformation of Tibet into a sacred place for the British, 'Such a fundamental reference point must belong ...to a culture, to its sense of itself, to its quest for meaning.'[90] Certainly the spiritual aspect was a crucial factor in transforming Tibet into a 'familiar' place; the mystic image itself was a great attraction. It was also so obviously a means by which Tibet could be presented in a positive light, that it was neither desirable nor possible to eliminate it entirely. Tibet's concern with religion demanded a positive response; the British were not unaffected by admiration for this priority. Thus the discourse was uniquely brought, by Tibet's spiritual ethos, into areas of meaning not normally associated with the definition of region, territory and state. Could a state define itself by religion, and exist with only a token military force?
That Caplan's conclusions may be applied in the Tibetan context becomes apparent in the later writings of officers such as Hopkinson, which contain soliloquies very far removed from 'Orientalism'. Thus Hopkinson described how the Tibetans 'value their independence as much as you or I do'.[91] As noted in more detail in the next section, Hopkinson questioned the value of the Anglo-Tibetan encounter. Observing its effects, he asked 'What benefit will it be to a man or a country if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?'[92]
This is very far removed from the discourse of control that is the basis of the Orientalist argument. It also goes beyond the perception of a dichotomy whereby the spiritual superiority of the 'East' meant a consequent inability to construct effective political structures. Hopkinson implied that Tibet's political structures were in some ways superior, and that this was because of their more spiritual basis. In this discourse, Tibet became not only 'familiar', but even superior.
The image of Tibet, however, was never brought fully into the realm of the 'familiar'. The need to emphasise Tibet's social and cultural differences with China meant that the British presented memorable images of Tibetan uniqueness, and these images, such as descriptions of 'sky burials' reinforced concepts of Tibet as 'Other'.
It was just previous to the grand monthly catechising contest that I returned to the Sera monastery. While I was busy with preparation, and in eager expectation of taking part in this important function, one of my acquaintances died and I had to attend his funeral. Incidentally therefore I took part in a ceremony which is perhaps unique in the world. I may observe here that in Tibetan funerals neither a coffin nor urn is used in which to deposit the corpse. It is simply laid on a frame made of two wooden poles, with a proper space between and two cross pieces tied to them. The rectangular space thus described is filled in with a rough sort of network of ropes, and over the netting is spread a sheet of cloth for the reception of the corpse. Another piece of cloth, pure white in color, is thrown over the corpse, and that completes the arrangement. The whole burden is then carried on the shoulders of two men, who insert their heads between the projecting ends of the two longer poles.
Generally a funeral is performed on the third or fourth day after death, the interval being spent in observances peculiar to Tibet. First of all a properly qualified Lama is consulted as to the auspicious day for performing the ceremony; then as to the special mode of funeral and the final disposal of the corpse. The Lama consulted gives his instructions on all these points after referring to his books, and bids the relatives of the deceased read such and such passages in the Sacred Texts, conduct the funeral ceremony on such and such day, and take the bier from the house at such and such an hour of the day.[389] The priest also advises on the mode of burial, of which there are four in vogue; the four modes being distinguishable from each other by the agencies to be brought into service, namely: water, flame, earth, and birds of the air. This last corresponds to the “air-burial” of Buhism.
Of the four kinds of burial, or more properly modes of disposing of corpses, the one generally regarded as the best is to leave the corpse to the vultures, known under the name of Cha-goppo in Tibet; then comes cremation; then water-burial, and last land-burial. This last method of interment is never adopted except when a person dies from small-pox. In this particular case alone the Tibetans observe some sanitary principles, though probably by mere accident and not from any conviction, for they think that this dreadful epidemic is likely to spread if the corpse of a person stricken down by small-pox is left for birds or consigned to a river. Though cremation is considered as a superior way of disposing of dead bodies, the process is by no means easy in a country where faggots are scarce, for the dried dung of the yak is hardly thought proper for the purpose. Hence cremation is confined to the wealthier class only. Water-burial generally takes place near a large stream; but, in consigning a dead body to the water, it is first thoroughly dismembered, and thrown into the water piece by piece. This troublesome course is adopted from the idea that a dead body thrown in whole will not speedily disappear from sight.
These four processes of disposing of corpses originate from Hindu philosophy, according to which human bodies are believed to consist of four elements, earth, water, fire and air, and it is thought that on death they should return to these original elements. Land-burial corresponds to the returning to earth, cremation to fire, water-burial to water, and the bird-devouring[390] to the air, of which birds are the denizens. The bodies of Lamas are mostly disposed of by this last process, while those of a few privileged persons only, such as the Dalai Lama, sub-Dalai Lama and other venerable Lamas, believed to be incarnations of Bodhisattvas, are given a special mode of burial.
‘Air-burial’ was chosen for the friend whose funeral I attended, and I shall briefly describe how this ‘burial’ was performed. Leaving the college at Sera, the cortège proceeded eastward till it reached the bank of a river near which, in a small valley formed between two contiguous hills, stood a big boulder about twelve yards high. The top of this stone was level and measured about fifteen feet square. This was the ‘burial-ground’ for this particular kind of interment. On the summits of the surrounding hills, and even on the inaccessible parts of the rock itself, were perched a large number of vultures, with their eyes glistening with greed. They are always waiting there for ‘burials’. When the bier was placed upon this rock, the white sheet was taken off, and the priest who had come, with the rest of the mourners and sympathisers, began to chant their texts to the accompaniment of drums and cymbals. At the same time one man approached the corpse with a broadsword, with which to ‘dress’ it. In ‘dressing’ the abdomen was first cut open and the entrails removed. Next all the various members of the body were severed, after which some other men, including a few priests, undertook the finishing work of final ‘dressing’, which consisted in separating the flesh and bones, just as butchers do with slaughtered cattle. By this time the vultures had gathered in a flock round the place, and big pieces, such as the flesh of the thighs, were thrown to them and most voraciously did they devour them. Then the bones had to be disposed of, and this was done by first throwing them into one of the ten cavities on the rock, and pounding the heap with big stones. When the bones had been fairly well pulverised a quantity of baked flour was added to the mass, and this dainty mixture was also given to the birds. The only thing that remained of the dead body was the hair.
The Tibetans may practically be considered as a kind of cannibals. I was struck with this notion while witnessing the burial ceremony. All the cloths used in the burial go as a matter of course to the grave-diggers, though they hardly deserve this name, as their duty consists not in digging the grave but in chopping the flesh of the corpse and pounding the bones. Even priests give them help, for the pounding business is necessarily tedious and tiresome. Meanwhile the pounders have to take refreshment, and tea is drunk almost incessantly, for Tibetans are great tea-drinkers. The grave-diggers, or priests, prepare tea, or help themselves to baked flour, with their hands splashed over with a mash of human flesh and bones, for they never wash their hands before they prepare tea or take food, the most they do being to clap their hands, so as to get rid of the coarser fragments. And thus they take a good deal of minced human flesh, bones or brain, mixed with their tea or flour. They do so with perfect nonchalance; in fact, they have no idea whatever how really abominable and horrible their practice is, for they are accustomed to it. When I suggested that they might wash their hands before taking refreshment, they looked at me with an air of surprise. They scoffed at my suggestion, and even observed that eating with unwashed hands really added relish to food; besides, the spirit of the dead man would be satisfied when he saw them take fragments of his mortal remains with their food without aversion. It has been stated that the Tibetans are descendants of the Rākshasa tribe—a tribe of fiendish cannibals who used to feed on human flesh; and what I witnessed at the burial convinced me that, even at the present day, they retained the horrible habit of their ancestors.
-- Three Years in Tibet, by Shramana Ekai Kawaguchi
The restrictions imposed by Whitehall meant the cadre failed to establish Tibet's precise identity and location, and, in addition, the attraction of the mystical image of Tibet meant that it retained a spiritual location outside geographical place.
The failure to establish Tibet as fully 'familiar' also reflected the fact that for most of the British who served there, Tibet retained at least some degree of 'Otherness'. Most British officers expected service in Tibet to be an encounter with the ’Other', and were content that it should be. While they created a discourse of the 'familiar', even those officers with the greatest understanding confronted those aspects of Tibet, such as the Tibetan's disregard for western scientific 'truths', which while not necessarily significant, remained fundamentally incompatible with European knowledge and understanding.
SECTION 6.10: - ISSUES OF MORALITY
The process of defining Tibet as a nation, and transforming structures and processes there to create a Tibetan national identity, raised the issue of how, or if, the qualities defined as essential aspects of 'Tibet' and 'Tibetan' could be maintained when Tibet was modernised. Later cadre officers, such as Richardson and Hopkinson, saw in the social structure they encountered, a system with genuine merits, which deeply challenged their view of the value of their own society. They considered that modernisation was corrupting the Tibetan values they admired.
These values were not just those created by the processes which the British had initiated; they were those the British and their allies saw as inherent in Tibetan identity. The religious identity of Tibetan proto-nationalism implied and articulated the privileging of certain ethical and humanitarian qualities. For example, the 13th Dalai Lama, on his accession to power in 1895. proclaimed that the Tibetans' Buddhist character gave them such virtues as 'compassionate hospitality'.[93] These values were seen as threatened by the increasing Tibetan contact with Western culture.
Arthur Hopkinson. the last British Political Officer Sikkim, was particularly concerned that the encounter with modern culture had brought 'the worst aspects of capitalism' to Tibet. [94] In addition to his concern with the political implications of this issue, Hopkinson also began to question the accepted ideas of cultural values which underlay the imperial process. Noting 'the happiness, contentment, self-sufficiency, and liberty' of the Tibetans, he concluded that 'the modern world has more to learn from Tibet than to teach [it]'.[95]
Hopkinson realised that changes in Tibet had had consequences very different from those intended. Some of these results directly threatened British aims there. For example, when the cadre encouraged education in Tibet, they intended it to strengthen Tibetan identity. Gyantse school headmaster Frank Ludlow had been determined to ensure that pupils at his school 'adhere to their own customs, and wear their national dress'. While British-style schools in Tibet failed to survive conservative opposition, some Tibetans saw benefits in western education, and began sending their children to schools in India. But there they received ideas from schools 'founded on the underlying idea of [the] racial, religious or cultural superiority of the Vatican or Salt Lake City to the Potala'. Hopkinson considered these schools 'set out, with the kindliest of motives, ultimately to demoralise them... [and to teach them] to despise their own country'.[96]
Although the Tibet cadre generally tried to restrict foreigners travelling to Tibet to those of their own 'type', there were always imperial elements which believed that contact with Western civilisation was beneficial to Tibet. White had argued that 'the more Tibetans come into contact with Europeans the better', and in the late 1940s, Hopkinson noted how 'One important diplomatic lady in Delhi said to me "Of course I'm going [to Tibet]; it is good for them."' But, as Hopkinson concluded, 'The Tibetans take a different view.'[97]
Hopkinson's comments, on the eve of the British departure from Tibet, reflect his own values, as well as the characteristic identification of imperial officials with the peoples among whom they lived and worked. But his conclusion was a significant development, representing a view diametrically opposed to that of the prevailing ethos at the time of the foundation of the Trade Agencies. The British encounter with Tibet, begun in hostility, had ended in respect and even esteem for the 'Other' culture.
The cadre had been influenced by the concept of British imperial power as a 'civilising mission'. They had a genuine desire to see Tibet advance. In the 1920s, Ludlow (whose wages from the Tibetan Government did not cover his expenses there) personally paid the fees of Tibetan boys studying telegraphy in Kalimpong. After his departure, Williamson, and later Bailey, continued to meet these costs from their own pocket. [98]
Later cadre officers did not oppose change in Tibet per se, but, seeing the Tibetans as conservative and resistant to change, they deliberately 'adopted a conservative policy of making haste slowly'.[99] Through policies such as the exclusion of missionaries and other agents of change, the cadre sought to preserve the stability of Tibet, and through their opposition to the introduction of European dress and modes of thinking, they attempted to preserve the existing Tibetan identity. But the rapid changes resulting from Tibet’s exposure to the modern world increasingly threatened this policy.
The cadre's concern partly reflects a similar attitude within Tibetan society. The alliance of interests between the cadre and their Tibetan supporters naturally meant that threats to one group were regarded with concern by the other.[100] But the British, unlike the Tibetans, were qualified by their familiarity with both societies to compare them, and judge the benefits of the encounter. Consequently they supported the status quo not only because of their political need to maintain a close association with Tibet's ruling class, but in order to preserve a society they admired. This factor should be considered in applying Mommsen's conclusion that alliances with local allies prevented the modernisation of premodern societies.[101]
Tibet was subject to the production of knowledge for purposes of political control, albeit in India, as much as in Tibet. But the cadre's growing understanding of, and sympathy for, Tibet, lead to a discourse of self-reflection, in which Tibet could be seen as representing all that was best in society in general.[102] The official British encounter with Tibet led individuals personally involved in the encounter to question whether the 'Other' was not superior to the 'familiar'. Their enthusiasm was not for the mystical elements which attracted so many private travellers, but rather for the society which produced the personal characteristics of Tibetans which they admired.
In the wider sense, the cadre's development of admiration for Tibetan values is evidence for the influence of the indigenous society on the imperial power, which appears characteristic of encounters on the frontier, as will be seen in Chapter Eight. But it may also suggest that as the power of policy-making was removed from the 'men on the spot' by the increased control exercised by central government, the frontiersmen identified less closely with the goals of their government, and were increasingly drawn to question its policies and their results.
The concerns which the cadre felt over Tibet's moral status were not expressed publicly until after the British had left Tibet, because it did not support the image of Tibet which the British were trying to project, nor did it reflect well on British influence there. When a concern for morality did emerge into the public sphere, it was for a political purpose: a concern to gain the moral high ground vis-a-vis Communist China.
This was a deliberate strategy. After the Communists took power in China, Richardson was aware that 'It is merely a question of when the Communists choose to come....The only possible line I can recommend for the government to pursue is to arouse moral feelings for Tibet.' China's subsequent military invasion enabled the Tibetan Government-in-exile to appeal to morality and justice, a claim which it has never relinquished, and which has become the primary weapon of the Tibetan independence movement. [103] Their sympathy for Tibetan aspirations left the cadre 'unspeakably sad' when it became obvious that Tibet was unlikely to be accepted as an independent nation-state in the postwar community of nations.[104] That this concern was genuine can be seen by the continuing efforts on behalf of the Tibetan cause today, by surviving officers such as Hugh Richardson and Radio Officer Robert Ford, both of whom remain active in the Tibetan cause.