20 October 2015
The first thing that strikes you about the monasteries clinging to the side of the mountains on the edge of the Tibetan Plateau is their beauty.
Small, isolated communities of a few hundred monks, seemingly unperturbed with their white and gold stupas and prayer flags set against the almost impossible blue sky.
But anyone who stops to ask a few questions (although they are the kind of questions the busloads of Chinese tourists will never ask) notices something else too.
Fear.
We are winding our way up the long road from the central city of Chengdu to the Aba Tibetan region in north-west Sichuan Province.
Seen as part of “greater Tibet” by exile groups, it is an area that lies just outside the borders of the Tibetan Autonomous Region and so, in theory at least, foreign journalists do not need special permission to be here.
But many a reporter has been turned away in the past and we are moving quickly, trying not to linger too long in any place.
With the gantries bristling with video cameras it is clear that a careful watch is being kept on these monasteries.
So the introductions need to be brief and the questions direct. But we find that many monks, despite the risks, are keen to talk – although not on camera.
Tibetan spiritual leader the Dalai Lama arrives at a Tibetan school, his first public function after his return last week from Minnesota in the United States where he had a thorough medical checkup, in Dharamsala, India, Saturday, 10 October 2015Image copyrightAP
Image caption
The Dalai Lama is seen as the region’s spiritual leader, but Beijing views him as a dangerous separatist
“What do you think of the Dalai Lama?” I ask one elderly monk.
His response is typical; a hesitation, a glance round, and then, in hushed tones: “He is always close to our hearts.”
“Is it dangerous to talk about him?”
“It is, it is,” he replies. “I’d be taken away like this,” and he gestures by crossing his hands to show me where the handcuffs would go.
He speaks of his resentment over the restrictions on his religious freedom, about how – despite reports that China has been relaxing the penalties for carrying or displaying portraits of the exiled Tibetan spiritual leader – they have to worship him in secret.
And then he bends down and briefly kisses my translator’s hand. “I’ve been here for 20 years and I’ve never spoken to a foreigner,” he says.
“These things have been burning inside of me, just to say it is enough.”
David Cameron, seen here with Chinese President Xi Jinping, has promised not to meet with the Dalai Lama again
These are sentiments we hear repeated time and again.
A Chinese state visit to Britain might not seem like an obvious premise for a reporting trip to this country’s remote Tibetan regions.
With President Xi Jinping 8,000km (4,970 miles) away and talking of common ground and closer economic ties, his officials would likely see our attempt to gather testimony here as the usual foreign media mischief-making.
But while the tight control of coverage of Tibet domestically is nothing new, we wanted to ask Tibetans what they thought of Beijing’s recent efforts to keep it off the diplomatic agenda too, the shadow of which looms large over the pomp and ceremony in London.
The deep displeasure over the British Prime Minister David Cameron’s May 2012 meeting with the Dalai Lama, a man China considers a dangerous separatist, was made abundantly clear.
UK-China relations were only put back on track after a great deal of fence-mending, bridge-building, and a statement from the PM’s office that he had no plans to meet the Dalai Lama again.
He has so far kept his word on that promise, and many critics see a dangerous precedent in Britain’s readiness to allow the Chinese Communist Party to demand a foreign policy price in exchange for economic grace and favour.
