Tibetan wounds

It is half a century since Beijing liberated the thankful serfs of Tibet. At least that's the official view of the Communist party. But few, if any, Tibetans see it that way. They regard the 50th anniversary of their unsuccessful uprising and the flight of the Dalai Lama as marking half a century under Beijing's boot.

Unfortunately for China, Tibet is an emotional issue that threatens to damage its aspirations for a smooth emergence as a global power. Beijing claims to have governed Tibet since the 13th century, and regards it as just as inalienably integral to its territory as Taiwan. To question Tibet's status is to revive painful memories of the humiliation China suffered in the 19th century when colonial powers, armed with gunboats and opium, devoured chunks of the Middle Kingdom.

But Beijing needs to move beyond that psychological straitjacket. Tibet is a different phenomenon. Four-fifths of Tibetans do not speak good Chinese. They practice a distinct religion and culture. In 1958, there were 114,000 monks and 2,700 monasteries in Tibet; by 1976 there were a little over 800 monks in just eight monasteries.

Since the Cultural Revolution ended, Beijing has stepped back from trying to obliterate Tibetan culture, and rebuilt some monasteries. But religious activity remains tightly invigilated. The Dalai Lama, breaking with his customary tact, on Tuesday said Tibetans had been living in “hell on earth”. Yet Beijing will struggle to keep a lid on this problem. Disputes such as this often simmer for years before boiling over; last year's protesters were not just letting off steam.

For some 30 years, the Dalai Lama and his government-in-exile have adopted “a middle way”, dropping claims of independence in return for autonomy. Beijing has consistently rejected that compromise, portraying the Dalai Lama as a cunning master of double-speak. It would do better to take him at face value and to negotiate accordingly. Not only because it would be the right thing to do, but also because talking to the exiled leader is its best hope of reaching a resolution. To cede some degree of autonomy need not set a dangerous precedent, nor need it be a Trojan horse for full independence.

The danger for Beijing is that, if the Dalai Lama dies before he makes a shred of progress, he will be succeeded by a radicalised generation. There is already mounting frustration among younger Tibetans that half a century of forbearance has got precisely nowhere. Beijing regards the Dalai Lama as its worst enemy. But he is actually its best way out of this mess.