Tibetans protested in the Rongwo township in the northwestern province of Qinghai Friday. Apparently timed to send a signal to the Communist Party elite, demonstrators decried “cultural genocide” and demanded an end to heavy-handed police tactics.
BEIJING — In a gruesome act of resistance that has played out dozens of times in recent months, six young Tibetans set fire to themselves this week, shouting demands for freedom as they were consumed by flames.
On Friday, for the second day in a row, thousands of Tibetan students took to the streets in the northwestern Chinese province of Qinghai denouncing “cultural genocide” and demanding an end to heavy-handed police tactics, exile groups said. Here in the nation’s capital, where Communist Party power brokers are presenting a new generation of leaders, the outgoing president, Hu Jintao, made no mention on Thursday of the anger consuming China’s discontented borderlands during his sprawling address to the nation.
A Tibetan exile shed tears during a candlelit vigil in Dharmsala, India Sunday. Attendees expressed solidarity with a young Tibetan who set fire to himself in protest of China, earlier that morning.
Asked by foreign reporters about the escalating crisis, delegates to the 18th Party Congress blamed the Dalai Lama, the exiled spiritual leader, or inelegantly dodged the question altogether.
“Can I not answer that?” one asked nervously.
But while Tibetan rights advocates have long been inured to impassive officials, they are increasingly troubled by the deafening silence among Chinese intellectuals and the liberal online commentariat, a group usually eager to call out injustice despite the perils of bucking China’s authoritarian strictures.
On Twitter, where China’s most voluble critics find refuge from government censors, the topic is often buried by posts about persecuted dissidents, corrupt officials, illegal land grabs or other scandals of the day.
Since the self-immolations began in earnest last year, few Chinese scholars have attempted to grapple with the subject.
“The apathy is appalling,” said Zhang Boshu, a political philosopher who lost his job at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences three years ago for criticizing the government’s human rights record.
With a mounting toll of 69 self-immolations, at least 56 of them fatal, many Tibetans are asking themselves why their Han Chinese brethren seem unmoved by the suffering — or are at least uninterested in exploring why so many people have embraced such a horrifying means of protest.
The silence, some say, is exposing an uncomfortable gulf between Tibetans and China’s Han majority, despite decades of propaganda that seeks to portray the nation as a harmonious family comprising 56 contented minorities.
“It’s the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about,” said Wang Lixiong, a prominent Tibetologist and social theorist whose writings have drawn the unwelcome attention of public security personnel, including a contingent of police officers who kept him sequestered inside his Beijing apartment this week as the party congress got under way.
Mr. Wang and others say an undercurrent of antipathy toward Tibetans suffuses the worldview of educated Chinese.
That sentiment, they say, has been nurtured by official propaganda that paints Tibetans as rebellious, uncultured and unappreciative of government efforts to raise their standard of living.
One prominent filmmaker, speaking more candidly than usual, but only under the condition of anonymity, noted that many Chinese are alternately fascinated and repulsed by Tibetans.
“We Han love their exotic singing and dancing, but we also see them as barbarians seeking to split the nation apart,” he said.
Whether it be antipathy or racism, many Chinese have been unconsciously swayed by government propaganda that describes the self-immolators as “terrorists” even as unrelenting censorship blocks any public airing of their grievances, which include complaints about restrictions on Tibetan Buddhism and educational policies that, in some areas, favor Mandarin over Tibetan.
“I think the authorities have deliberately created a barrier between the two cultures,” said Hu Yong, a professor at Peking University’s School of Journalism and Communication.
Mr. Hu said such attitudes were reinforced by China’s army of Tibet specialists, nearly all of whom are employed by government-affiliated institutions and who faithfully parrot the party’s official narrative on Tibetan history and politics.
Rigorous censorship has ensured that news about the protests rarely makes it onto the Internet, let alone into the mainstream news media.
The Chinese media has reported only a handful of the self-immolations, and people who transmit news from Tibetan areas face harsh punishment.
The fear can be paralyzing for many Chinese intellectuals.
“No one wants to be accused of being a separatist,” said Mr. Zhang, the former academy member.
But neither fear nor censorship fully explain the silence of Chinese liberals, most of whom are adept at skirting the great firewall and many of whom regularly step across imaginary red lines to lob verbal critiques of the Communist Party.
Tsering Woeser, a blogger of mixed Tibetan and Han ancestry, said many Chinese see Tibetans as the “other”; she said even friends have been known to cite a well-known Chinese proverb to explain their indifference to Tibetan grievances: “If you are not of my ethnicity, you cannot share my heart.”
Ms. Woeser said that even her most open-minded friends are confounded by Tibetans, with their fierce religious devotion, their demands for greater autonomy and their aching for the return of the Dalai Lama, whom Beijing regularly dismisses as a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Chinese intellectuals, she added, see Tibet as a forbidding, restive land, but also inseparable from China. “The Han are obsessed with issues of sovereignty,” said Ms. Woeser, who is married to Mr. Wang, the critic barred from leaving his home.
“They want to claim Tibet as part of China, but they are not concerned with the Tibetan people or their culture.”
Even if the self-immolations are confined to a region thousands of miles away, Beijing officials were taking no chances this week as party elders gathered for the once-a-decade change in leadership.
During the opening day of the party congress on Thursday, several security guards inside the Great Hall of the People held fire extinguishers between their knees as they sat in the back row of the auditorium.
Outside on Tiananmen Square, firefighters stood at attention with fire extinguishers at their feet, even if the vast granite-clad plaza was devoid of anything flammable.
A New York Times photographer who snapped pictures of the firefighters was confronted by the police, who forced her to delete the images.
At a session held on Friday by delegates from the Tibet Autonomous Region, Liang Tiangeng, a top party official, dismissed a foreign reporter’s question about whether the government had plans to address the self-immolations.
After extolling the happiness of the Tibetan people, he noted that even developed and democratic nations were plagued by suicides.
“People kill themselves, they set fire to themselves, they shoot themselves every day,” he said.
“I think some media organizations are trying to sensationalize the very few cases of self-immolation that have happened in Tibetan area because they have ulterior motives.”
