The End of Tibet

"There is definitely more criticism from our own people and also from our supporters," the Dalai Lama tells me, his voice a low rumble. "More and more criticism about our Middle Way approach."

He begins to outline the threats facing Tibet. The attitude of Chinese officials, he admits, is "not encouraging." The new railroad to Lhasa has brought rampant development that poses "consequences on the wild animals and also the environment." I try to interrupt him, but he keeps talking, caught up in the litany of concerns. "And then the demographic pressure is also increasing, and the ecological consequences are very serious."

But as he comes to the end of his soliloquy, the Dalai Lama's face suddenly brightens. There is still hope for the future, he insists. "This is not a question of my return to Tibet but a question of this century," he says. "So therefore, the Tibet issue will not go away."

When our interview ends, I mention to the Dalai Lama that I have recently returned from Tibet, a land he has not been able to visit for almost half a century. He beams. "Oh!" he shouts. "Oh!" Eager for firsthand accounts, he pumps me for information about the new railroad to Lhasa. "Did you see new towns along the train?" he asks. "I've heard there are many new Chinese towns."

As I try to describe what I saw, the Dalai Lama's aides grow nervous; dignitaries wait in the next room for a photo shoot. But the Tibetan leader ignores their entreaties, firing questions at me. "Did you see an impact on the environment?" he asks. The aides stare pointedly at their watches, but the Dalai Lama seems to want more, desperate for any information about his homeland.

Finally, the aides get his attention. The Dalai Lama grasps my hands. "Thank you," he says, staring hard at me. His robes rustle as he heads into the next room.

Watching him go, I am reminded that, to a very real extent, the future of Tibet resides in this elderly man. In an era of terror, his message of steadfast peace in the face of destruction has proven an inspiration to people far beyond his own land. "He has given something indelible to the world," writes the essayist Pico Iyer. "He has shown that justice and nonviolence have a power of their own. And he has shown that globalism can be a way of taking seriously the idea that all of us are one another's neighbors."

But despite the Dalai Lama's immense accomplishments, no leader has emerged who can take his place, and the violence in Tibet is only likely to increase once he is gone. "When the Dalai Lama passes away, it's a real mess," admits Randy Schriver, a former senior official in the U.S. State Department. Worse, it will be at least twenty years before the next Dalai Lama, once he is found and chosen, becomes old enough to lead his people. By that time, given the rapid influx of Chinese and the next generation's growing disillusionment with nonviolence, the Roof of the World may no longer be recognizable as Tibetan. "Right now, Tibetans have nothing more to lose," says a prominent businessman in Lhasa, echoing the concerns of those who fear that one of the world's oldest cultures is coming to an end. "It's like we have a gun at the back of our head and a ditch in front of us."

Click here to learn six things you can do to help make the 2008 Beijing Olympics a catalyst for change in Tibet.

Note: This story has been updated to clarify two statements in the original, published version. As originally reported, human rights organizations estimate that there are hundreds of political prisoners in Tibet, but the article incorrectly attributed this detail to the International Campaign for Tibet. The article also referred to an admission by a top Chinese government official that Tibetans would soon become a minority in Lhasa; the admission was made in 2002, not "recently."

[From Issue 1019 — February 8, 2007]