“逃遁者”——茨仁夏加解读万玛才旦电影《塔洛》

西德尼玛和杨秀措

高峰净土特邀藏人学者茨仁夏加 (Tsering Shakya)，评论万玛才旦的最新电影《塔洛》。

去年，高峰净土发表了一些关于《塔洛》上映预期效果的译文。《塔洛》于2015年威尼斯电影节进行了国际首映，自那时起便接踵不断地赢得世界各地的电影节奖项。

“逃遁者”－茨仁夏加解读万玛才旦电影《塔洛》

万玛才旦的新电影《塔洛》回归了他早期的主题：生活在中国瞩目的经济崛起之边缘的人们。电影植根于日常生活，讲述了主角塔洛的人生际遇。通常父母给孩子起“塔洛”这个名字，是希望他将会是他们最后一个孩子，可算是除了避孕之外的一种祈愿的方式；它同时也可以被解读为“终结”。然而，万玛才旦将其藏文名字拼写为thar lo，代替常用的mthar，因而赋予了“塔洛”新的寓意：逃遁者。某种意义上，这是一个很恰当的名字，因为主角一直过着与世隔绝的生活，设法逃避被登入在身份证系统里。不论导演是否有意使用这个名字来暗喻着什么，这部电影的确讲述了塔洛所熟知、所生活的世界的终结。塔洛本人更喜欢众人给他的昵称－马尾辫，它准确地反映了他的外貌特征，同时也是故事的核心。

这部电影本质上是一项人物研究。塔洛这个角色是由著名的藏人喜剧作家演员西德尼玛扮演，然而，正如同才旦早期电影的方式，其他的角色都是启用非专业演员，以展现真实、自然的场景。西德尼玛对于主人公的表现，连同他独特的肢体特征与气质，坚实地烘托出电影的主题：被诱惑的天真，与被移植入迥异环境的人。当塔洛身处全新的环境时，流露出一种细微却明显的不自在，刻意避免他在现代化社会中給人的乡巴佬的刻板印象，同时引出观众感同身受的理解与同情。

电影以塔洛背诵“为人民服务”的情节为始，这是毛泽东于1944年为缅怀他忠诚的战士张思德所作的文章。塔洛站在当地警察局里，他的听众是镇里的派出所长。我们看到，这篇演讲使塔洛赋予自己的人生更重的涵义，并得出结论：由于接受的教育有限，他唯一能够服务人民的途径是继续老本行，即为其他村民放羊。对于他，一个没有任何家庭帮助支持的孤儿来说，放羊的意义不止是生存方式而已，这同时也是服务社区的方式，因为这些羊并不都属于他。观众也看到，塔洛对于他的羊群有着非常细致的了解，并精勤地照料着它们；他走在镇上会把孤儿羊羔装在随身携带的布包里，无论何时当它感到口渴，他会用一个婴儿奶瓶喂它。

剧本改编自导演于2013年所写的短片小说（刊登在《青海湖》文学杂志）。在那篇小说里，其他角色的作用是讲述塔洛的独居生活；在电影中，塔洛仍然保持这焦点为全剧每一幕的中心。电影黑白的拍摄手法营造了一种预示性的氛围，好像每个场景都是一个事件的照片纪实。色彩的缺失带来了对于地貌灰暗性的尖锐聚焦；在那片被经济发展所污染的藏地高原，聚居着一群既未被完全城市化又不再保留纯粹乡村生活的人们。我们可以感受到一种临近边缘的空间，等待着它的“发展”。

在这样全然、单调的黑白单色的动态摄影中，塔洛那困惑和无措的神情回忆起一份档案文件般，记录了他原本的世界，正蜕掉它的天真，被以他无法完全理解的方式入侵着的过程；这侵犯所带来的沉重现实将它冲击得摇摇欲坠，正在他面前脱落、坍塌；而他却对这一切浑然不觉。塔洛在山里的牧营中过着孤独的生活，离周边的村庄很远，离那个他鲜有涉足的小镇也很远。身边所发生的迅疾的变化是那样陌生，他对杨秀措扮演的女主人公杨措说，他从未见过一个藏人女孩吸烟，还剪了短发。短发、吸烟、夜店…尽管杨措具有了都市的堕落、诱惑、放荡这一特定模式的典型特征，万玛才旦并没有让这个角色变成一个罪恶的放大或代言人。

电影围绕塔洛对于自我及外部世界的发掘与认知展开。塔洛独立的存在被行政部门注意到，于是他发现自己被召到当地派出所去办一个新的身份证，正如每个公民所必需的一样。他不明白为什么他需要身份证，并问这个东西是做什么用。派出所长解释道，“这是为了让他人能够认得你是谁。”塔洛很困惑，“我知道我是谁。这难道不足够吗？”

当塔洛按照要求前往镇里的街道拍身份证照片时，由于蓬乱邋遢的外表，他又被支去理发店。在那里他遇到了杨措。杨措告诉塔洛，她渴望变得富有、去旅行，渴望一个留着马尾辫的粗旷男人出现，带着她离开，去过更好的生活。当塔洛被杨措坚持带去了卡拉OK吧之后，他回到派出所，告诉所长说：他觉得，可是不确定，他刚刚遇到了一个“坏”人。“你是怎么看出来一个人坏不坏的？”他问所长。正如行政部门开始注意并了解塔洛这个人一样，塔洛本人也开始探索这个许久以来他成功远离的世界。这并不是一个共同分享的，或者基于一种了解意愿的过程，而好比一种侵入、一项注册，是一个没有什么被发现后还能够重新隐藏于视野之外的世界。

这种埋于吸引力与诱惑力的冲突是万玛才旦电影及短篇小说的一贯主题。从这个角度来说，他的电影是迄今为止对于中国藏区正面临的发展所作出的最好注解之一。他的电影没有国际媒体的头条，脱离了官方媒体以及旅游业所制作的梦幻风景片，取而代之的是对于个体在转变及入侵中的挣扎、对于他们鲜活的日常体验的探究。乡村穷人和处在现代发展风口的生活方式，是万玛才旦最熟知的，也是他最擅长驾驭的主题。塔洛在探索中无法弥补地失去了隔离的生活与天真单纯，一如他外表的转变，在我们面前呈现出一个全新的、无法违逆的现实世界；一个让他终于了知，没有身份证会使他不再确定自己是谁的现实世界。电影并未以乐观的角度来表现处在中国经济崛起边缘的平民生活，它既没有给出令人愉快的解决方案，也不是一个关于政治动荡的叙事片；而是记录了一种隐藏的、内在的动荡，它重构着那些挣扎于社会经济变革冲击的，流离者的生活。

（转自：http://highpeakspureearth.com/2016/%E9%80%83%E9%81%81%E8%80%85%EF%BC%8D%E8%8C%A8%E4%BB%81%E5%A4%8F%E5%8A%A0%E8%A7%A3%E8%AF%BB%E4%B8%87%E7%8E%9B%E6%89%8D%E6%97%A6%E7%94%B5%E5%BD%B1%E3%80%8A%E5%A1%94%E6%B4%9B%E3%80%8B/?lang=zh-hans）

藏学家Tsering Shakya书评我与王力雄的英文译著

VOICES FROM TIBET: Selected Essays and Reportage. By Tsering Woeser and Wang Lixiong; edited and translated by Violet S. Law. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press; Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 2014. xxxviii, 81 pp. (Maps, figures.) US$20.00, paper. ISBN 978-0-8248-3951-2.

Voices from Tibet is a collection of translations of blogposts and radio broadcasts on Radio Free Asia by husband and wife, Tsering Woeser and Wang Lixiong.  Tsering Woeser is a well-known Tibetan blogger and an adept user of social media to disseminate her commentaries on the current situation in Tibet. She has received international recognition in the form of numerous rewards, notably, in 2013 the US State Department’s Woman of Courage Award. Wang Lixiong came to prominence in China with the publication of his novel Huanghuo, (Yellow Peril) in 1991, an apocalyptic novel about the collapse of China. He is also one of the few Chinese intellectuals to tackle the issues of minorities, notably in his two books on Tibet and Xinjiang, which offered a personal perspective on the current situation in these conflict-ridden regions, and that are critical of the Chinese government’s policies in dealing with Tibetans and Uyghurs. Woeser’s blog is banned in China and she posts on her blog using a proxy server.

Robbie Barnett of Columbia University provides an informative and excellent introduction, which makes up nearly half of the book. Barnett contextualizes Wang and Woeser’s writings in the context of the larger issue of Chinese intellectuals’ engagement with the general issue of “nationalities,” and particularly with Tibet. Barnett points out in his introduction that Woeser’s writing focuses on “the everyday pressures faced by Tibetans” in Tibet, whilst Wang’s writings deal with “strategy and policy” issues.

Woeser was the editor of Tibetan Literature, a Chinese-language literary journal of the Tibetan branch of the Chinese Writers’ Association, but she fell foul of Chinese censors and was dismissed from her post as the editor. She was forced to move to Beijing. Wang is not regarded as an outright dissident in China. He carefully crafts his writings not to cross the censor’s line.  Because of the current wave of violent attacks by Uyghur nationalists and self-immolations in Tibet, Wang’s work has gained renewed interest amongst Chinese readers. Woeser has gained enormous popularity amongst the Tibetans in China and she is a conduit for news of protests and arrest, which she feeds through her over fifty thousand followers on Twitter.

Chinese readers will be familiar with their writings and their blogs attract a huge readership amongst the Chinese. Although Wang and Woeser have a high profile in the media, their works are rarely translated into English. Many of Woeser’s posts on her blog “Invisible Tibet” have been translated into English by Dechen Pemba and reposted on the blog “High Peaks Pure Earth.”

Violet S. Law, a journalist and translator, has done a great service by bringing English translations of selected posts from Wang and Woeser’s blog. The book consists of 41 short essays that are either posted on their blogs or broadcast on Radio Free Asia.  The essays are organized into five broad themes; the first chapter consists of nine short vignettes on the current situation in Tibet’s capital Lhasa (1-18), other chapters deal with the economic marginalization of Tibetans (19-32), religion (33-48), the devastating effects of developments projects in Tibet (49-60), and contemporary cultural politics (61-74). These essays demonstrate what Woeser refers to in the epilogue, “to write is to bear witness.” Woeser sees herself speaking of and for the plight of Tibetans.

The essays in the book are attributed to Wang and Woeser but the essays have no named author, just a list of sources for the essays at the back of the book. The majority of the translated essays have been published in Taipei under the title Tingshuo Xizang, the same title as the book under review. The collections show Woeser and Wang as keen and insightful observers of the everyday lives of Tibetans. One constant theme emerges in their writings, that is the question of why the Chinese government have failed to win over the hearts and minds of the Tibetans.  Woeser and Wang see the reasons in the gulf in everyday interactions between state officials, majority Han and the Tibetan people governed by mistrust and mutual incomprehension.

Woeser is a writer and poet whose works cannot be published in China but this has not silenced her or prevented her from taking to the Internet to circumvent the censor. This collection of essays attests to the opportunity and power of the Internet for a writer under an authoritarian regime.

Tsering Shakya, The University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada

（转自：http://www.pacificaffairs.ubc.ca/book-reviews/book-reviews-2/forthcoming-book-reviews-2/#top）

茨仁夏加（Tsering Shakya）：囚徒

作者：茨仁夏加（Tsering Shakya）

原文标题：THE PRISONER
译者：“安靜地，流動著”博客
转自：http://blog.roodo.com/pbear6150/archives/5888781.html
（说明：我下载这篇译文是2008年10月间，但今天再找这篇译文时，发现译者已将译文隐藏。我在转载这篇译文时有个别修订。）

曾经在1951年带领中国解放军先头部队进入拉萨的平措汪杰，是四零年代西藏共产党的建立者，他在中共统治期间长达十八年遭到长期监禁，直到文革后平反，因为长期单人监禁，一度丧失说话能力，他曾任中共全国民大民族委员会副主委，是中国境内最著名的藏人之一。2004年，由他以第一人称口述，Melvin Goldstein等西方藏学学者执笔的传记《一位藏族革命家》(A Tibetan Revolutionary: The Political Life and Times of Bapa Phuntso Wangye)，以英文在西方出版。2004年到2006年间，他曾数度写信给胡锦涛，指责中共鹰派依靠反对达赖喇嘛寻求个人私利，关闭中藏谈判大门并误导中共高层，并在2007年谴责西藏自治区主席向巴平措对呼吁达赖喇嘛回到西藏的拒绝。（向巴平措就是那位声称解放军是去拉萨“打扫街道”的天才）

这篇文章翻译自西藏历史学者Tsering Shakya对平措汪杰传记的书评，发表在《新左评论》（New Left Review）2005年7-8月34期上。

1979年一本中国的异议杂志上，出现“二十世纪的巴士底监狱”一文。在文革期间，北京秦城一号监狱专门关押高阶共产党员，这篇文章描述了在这监狱里的两名衰弱的西藏囚犯的命运，他们两位分别是1940年代建立西藏共产党的平措汪杰（Phuntso Wangye）以及他的亲密战友阿旺格桑（Ngawang Kesang）。这篇文章是肯定二人依然在世的第一个讯息。从1958年起，曾经在中共的西藏事务里扮演领导角色的平汪——人们通常这么简称他——就消失在公共场合，其后十八年都被关押在恶名昭彰的秦城监狱的单人牢房。

平汪——书里用这个充满感情的家庭姓名称之——是西藏社会的名人，但关于他的生命和政治工作却鲜有人知。由本书共同作者道帏喜饶（Dawei Sherap）所著的简短传记由私人出版且流通量有限，《一位藏族革命家：巴塘人平措汪杰的時代和政治生涯》（A Tibetan Revolutionary）一书则提供更全面的记述，对西藏现代历史感兴趣的读者都应该阅读。英文著作里，存在大量西藏人的传记，但它们多数描绘一种在中国并吞前，快乐的西藏人住在理想化社会里的生活，平汪的回忆录结集 由梅·戈尔斯坦（Melvin Goldstein ）所做的的许多长篇访问并以第一人称写成，提供更复杂的报导。本书揭示了一小群想将改革与革命带到雪域的西藏人的想法与企望，并以丰富信息启发读者。

一般对平汪的看法不外乎二：对传统人士来说他是将解放军带入西藏的通敌者，对自由派来说他是西藏社会里从未有过的领导者，他的个人失败就是民族的失败。戈尔斯坦（Goldstein） 不同于其他学者，他致力将西藏现代史的正反优缺各个面向带入公共领域，人们热切地阅读这本传记并在网络上广为张贴的情形，显示平汪在年轻一代的藏人之中已经找到追随者，他们被平汪鼓舞并哀悼那些被糟蹋的岁月。

1922年，平汪出生于东藏康区的一个遥远而美丽的小镇——巴塘，当地距拉萨东方五百哩，其时处于中国军阀刘文辉的控制之下。巴塘在清末是军事驻防要塞，政府办的现代学校将一批学生送往南京学习，训练他们成为中国政府的管理者，平汪的舅父也在其中。传记里生动地描述了在混乱的政治之下，幼年平汪初次政治洗礼的激情。1932年，在南京接受教育的格桑次仁（Kesang Tsering）指挥官，领导巴塘反抗刘文辉统治，他本应为国民党而战，但他宣称当地该由西藏人统治。“格桑又高又壮，蓄有深髯，他成了我和其他年青人心中的英雄。”平汪回忆他号召同学高唱“新康之歌”，遵循孙中山的“民族、民主、民生”主义路线，然而不久之后胜利即夭折。刘文辉的军队折返报复，处决当地领袖，这个十岁的孩子和同伴在树上敲击胡桃时，听到了枪声，平汪一个玩伴的父亲也被枪决。藏人的反抗持续至1935年，平汪的舅父洛桑顿珠（Lobsang Thundrup）也在反抗之列。他们再次以国民党之名，包围巴塘的中国驻防，而当时红军长征正穿越镇上的山脊前往西北，十四岁的平汪此时已经决定追随格桑和洛桑的脚步，前往南京就学：

……如此一来我也可以领导我们西藏人争取自由……我崇拜格桑次仁和舅父不单只是因为他们反抗中国人，而是因为他们受过教育、见过世面、现代化，并且为了康巴人统治康地的信念而奋斗。

十六岁的平汪第一次接触到列宁的民族自决权思想，是透过蒙藏学校的王老师介绍。蒙藏学校由蒋介石手下的蒙藏委员会运作，在日本侵略期间，蒙藏学校撤退到陪都重庆，那里纪律松弛且政治争议甚嚣尘上，对平汪和他的西藏同伴而言，列宁的民族自决构想如同天启：

我理解列宁所谓有权力的民族与无权力的民族间存在不可避免的紧张关系。……他说强大的民族总是使用力量压迫弱小的民族，弱小的民族则激烈反抗。我有时觉得列宁完全明白我所想的及我最在意的事情。

平汪首先组织他的学伴们进入地下西藏共产党的革命团体并组织学潮请愿，这些举动导致他被逐出蒙藏学校。尽管他被学校驱逐，他仍在校园外游行，高声唱歌，誓言他绝不“潜逃”。

此时十九岁的平汪回到康地，他一开始担任中文和音乐教师，同时活跃地追求他的政治目标。在一九四零年代由他领导的微小的西藏共产党，采用双重策略：一方面试图赢得政治西藏的进步分子——达赖喇嘛的王国里的学生和贵族——支持，从事现代化和民主改革；另一方面为游击队寻求支持，以期打倒刘文辉在康地的统治。他的最终目标是建立一个彻底改变封建社会体制的统一且独立的西藏。平汪生动地描绘了一些传统精英的傲慢，在旅程中遇见的一些僧侣的残酷行为，和在沉重赋税劳役制度下的西藏农民的贫困——他们比中国农民的处境更惨。

他的故事饶富兴味。在拉萨，内阁大臣索康噶伦是噶厦政府里最年青的成员，平汪试图说服他为康地的武装抗争提供步枪，然而噶厦政府将希望寄托在轴心国的胜利上，他们告诉平汪：“当日本征服中国，他们将不会打扰西藏。他们是佛教国家，而且我们如此遥远。”于是平汪与印度共产党联络，期望与苏联取得联系，他与同伴昂旺格桑组织的商队旅行至噶伦堡，之后搭火车到达加尔各答。印度共产党友善地欢迎他，但阻止他经由西北边境进入苏维埃底下的中亚，因为那里有太多英军。当他回到拉萨，噶厦政府仍然不愿意伸出援手，尽管当时已可预见同盟国的胜利。平汪和他的同志们转而前往位于云南康区的德钦，当地的民兵领导贡波次仁（Gombo Tsering）愿意加入他们一同对抗刘文辉，其后他们遭到贡波次仁的敌人背叛攻击，被迫跨越金沙江，撤退到西藏，他们躲匿在山间雪地，直到1947年平汪终于到了他舅父在拉萨的住处，那里相对安全。

当时的政治局势多方汇流。1949年春西藏共产党听说中国共产党在云南康区建立游击队基地，缅甸共产党在当地也有强大势力。平汪和他的同志们被西藏政府逐出拉萨，他们决定加入云南的共产党，并为共产党在中国即将到来的胜利心跳不已。西藏共产党经由印度，在1949年秋抵达共产党在云南西部的总部，然而红军指挥官——白族的欧根 （Ou Gen）——要求西藏共产党解散并加入中国共产党，作为他们参与游击队活动的前提。在多次争辩后，平汪终于同意。平汪被迫放弃“独立的共产西藏自治”（self-rule as an independent communist Tibet） 的目标，但他解释自己依然希望透过中国共产党，“重建康地，甚至可能是金沙江两岸的藏区，模仿苏联底下自治的社会主义共和国，成为自治的共和政体。……它会在中国主权底下，但由西藏人控制。”

1950年初，平汪被传唤到重庆与邓小平、贺龙和其他西南政治局十八军的指挥官开会，他此时是新解放的巴塘地区的共产党领导，会议上他被任命为解放军进军西藏的领导顾问。（也许是个象征：飞往重庆的飞机遇上乱流，平汪在晕机但找不到其它容器的情况下，呕吐在他全新的解放军帽里。） 在北京与拉萨谈判十七点协议的过程中，他扮演关键的外交角色，同时也努力赢得西藏贵族成员的接受，几乎从一开始，他就对沙文主义和许多共产党干部由上而下的态度多所批评。然而他为在拉萨开办世俗学校感到骄傲，此前的世俗学校均被寺院关闭；他也办报，吸引西藏知识分子为之写稿。至关重要的是，平汪与邓小平的西南政治局同一阵线，反对范明手下西北政治局偏好班禅喇嘛的左倾主义，主张以谨慎的手段从事社会改革，并取得达赖喇嘛和寺院精英的支持。他提到，1953年起他被调任到北京，就是范明施策使他离开拉萨的结果。

1956年毛泽东与十九岁的达赖喇嘛在北京会谈，平汪是他们信赖的翻译官。他回忆有一晚，毛泽东私下拜访达赖喇嘛的住处，毛泽东提到藏军仍然悬挂雪山狮子旗的问题，并说范明想禁止。毛泽东道：“你也许可以保留国旗，未来我们也可以让新疆和内蒙古拥有他们自己的旗帜。除了雪山狮子旗之外，能不能也悬挂中华人民共和国的国旗呢？”达赖喇嘛显然点了头。对平汪而言，这证明了中共领导层当时正仔细思量是否采用苏维埃的自治共和国模式，至少对藏、蒙、维吾尔三个民族。

然而政治气氛也正在转变。平汪强烈反对在康区严厉施行的改革，这导致 1958 至 1959 年的反叛，最后被解放军残酷镇压；他也悲叹中央政府不了解康区与西藏的关系。作为1957年人民大会的代表，他公开批评范明的政策，来年他被传唤到纪律委员会“清洗他的思想”。此时正行反右运动，平汪失去在民族委员会里的地位，1960年他遭逮捕，被控以“反革命嫌疑”，时年三十八岁。在狱中他经历数次精神失常，当最后从“北京的巴士底监狱”被释放时，他已经五十七岁。他回忆最糟糕虐待的是在牢房里遭到电击，那会引起非常强烈的头痛，在被释放后的几个月后，他仍无法克制非自主的流口水。令人印象深刻的是，经过一年的休养生息，他又回到会令人神经紧张的边缘，为 1980 年中华人民共和国的宪法争议草拟一份关于「自治共和体」的计划书，强力主张在少数民族地区，不应使用解放军从事治安工作，因为那可比军事占领。他的建议引来党官员长达一万字的咒骂攻击，平汪则驳以一份两万五千字的抗辩。如今他已八十来岁并复官职，依然维持批判的声音，密切注意雪域的发展动态。

平汪的民族认同与对西藏人权力的坚持成为中共的一个麻烦。中国的共产革命也以自己的方式主张民族主义并期望恢复中国荣光，在追求中国民族主义的路上，其他群体的企望只不过是个绊脚石。平汪和其他年青的西藏人藉由与中国共产党结盟，希望将改革和社会变革带入西藏，然而一旦中国在当地建立牢固的控制，就以汉族官员取代藏族共产党员。作为 50 年代的政治领导之一，平汪是中国统治的前十年间唯一拥有权威的西藏人。他的语言知识和他的社会名望使他成为活跃的文化与政治中介者，他得以接触中共高层与达赖喇嘛（达赖喇嘛在其自传里曾富有感情地提及平汪）。平汪的政治生涯在 1958 年结束，他和他的同志们的命运显示了一直以来北京的统治问题：经过五十年，北京仍然没能拔擢藏人成为拉萨的领导高层，平汪身上危险的“地区民族主义”控罪，依然适用于任何反对中共政策的藏人，这项威胁持续使当地领导噤声。

《一位藏族革命家：巴塘人平措汪杰的時代和政治生涯》一书使用第一人称叙述，严格来说更像是一本自传而非传记。平汪的声音引领着叙事，他的叙述没有企图批判或分析，对读者来说，这很显然是平汪观点的事件，而这也是本书强项。然而它仍有待辩论与详察，这本书的出版说明了中华人民共和国正改变着，也说明了学者们将越来越有机会接触中国与西藏的材料。书里的大部分信息还未经历史与档案数据的佐证，也许将来会出现不同的版本。这绝非贬低本书的重要性。当我们检验其他数据来源之后，我们很有可能发现平汪所言，比至今为止的任何证据更加真实正确，他不去反责那些失落的岁月，这使他的叙述带有真实感，尽管个人受到折磨，平汪维持平衡的观点并从未陷入自怜。对某些人而言，他不动气显得天真，但详细阅读就会发现他性格的长处，他依旧相信中国和西藏能够找到一个方式共存。书中附录记载 1979 年平汪与达赖喇嘛代表团的对话，他提到流亡藏人称他为“引红汉人进藏的红藏人”，他为自己的目标辩护：

用毛主席的话来说，共产党在那里是为了帮助西藏人民站起来，成为他们自家的主人，改革自身，改善人民的生活条件和建立一个快乐的新社会。但我从未意图带领汉人到西藏，让汉人统治西藏人。假若如是，那“红汉人”、解放军及充当向导的“红藏人”都是共产党骗子。

他坚持这个策略应该由结果评断—亦即究竟西藏人的生活条件改善了多少，在中华人民共和国底下他们是不是成为“自家的主人”。用他自己的话来说，正是这些成就使他成为“好人”之一。本书的确提出了一个问题：如果在五零年代没有中国的干涉，西藏会不会发生改革？平汪的叙述让我们得以追溯一小群激进份子创造当地社会运动的努力。如同他儿时的英雄，平汪（作词）作曲以教育与激励他的人民，一首从四零年代开始的激情颂歌是这么唱的：

起来，起来，起来

西藏的兄弟们

战斗的时刻已经来到

你们还没从睡梦中醒来吗

我们再也不能生活于

强大官员的压迫下

吃糌巴的人们，起来吧

夺取你自己的土地

夺取政治权力

平汪显然是被革命背叛的受害者。这份对他生命的精彩详细的纪录，将有助后代决定他究竟是不是一个好人。

附：译者的话

对我，直白一点说，这篇文章像是一出革命失败者的悲剧。纵然失败不代表没有价值，悲剧或许更有力量。

没有武装的革命者，向他人乞讨武力的革命者，周旋于不同力量之间的革命者，注定是失败的吧。

另外，现代化里永远有两面。既接受启蒙，也被产生出启蒙的逻辑所压迫。所有人都毫无选择地被卷进漩涡。

平汪因列宁而获得强大的民族自治启蒙，但也因为列宁对共产主义理论与实践的反转，加强了党机器，所谓世界的共产革命之火才提前燎原。却也因为强大的党机 器，注定没有力量的个人的牺牲与覆没。俄国在列宁之后的斯大林，不也对弱小民族采取高压政策吗？国家依靠党机器的调动，想要走出与资本主义社会不一样的道 路，最终却证明步调过快、理想过高的改革，是场血淋淋的闹剧。即便对他们所处的历史困境与条件保持同情，却无法抹灭那些鲜血涂抹而成的历史……。

如今，不管是大藏区的自治构想，甚且只是坐下来和谈，都不可能吧。西藏错过曾有的历史机运，或者说，历史其实未曾给过西藏更多选择。如今，谈判的筹码与先发权都在中共手上，对西藏而言，如要坚持理想，只能是激烈武装；要不就得把政治看做对现实生活暂时妥当的安排，而非理想的实践，在中共所开出的条件下，尽可能去维护自己的利益罢了。。。

New Left Review 34, July-August 2005

Tsering Shakya on Melvyn Goldstein et al, A Tibetan Revolutionary. Memoirs of an indigenous Lenin from the Land of Snows, and his long imprisonment by the Mao government.

TSERING SHAKYA

THE PRISONER

In 1979 an article entitled ‘The Twentieth-Century Bastille’ appeared in a Chinese dissident magazine. It described the fate of two Tibetan prisoners languishing in Beijing’s Qingchen Number One Prison, where high-ranking Communists had been incarcerated during the Cultural Revolution. The two were Phüntso Wangye, the founder of the Tibetan Communist Party in the 1940s, and his close comrade Ngawang Kesang. The article was the first sign we had that they were still alive. Phünwang, as he is most commonly known, had disappeared from the public scene in 1958 after playing a leading role in Tibetan affairs, and had spent 18 years in the notorious prison, most of the time in solitary confinement.

Phünwang—the title of the book under review uses an affectionate and familiar version of his name—is a prominent figure in the Tibetan community, yet relatively little is known about his life and political work. A brief biography in Tibetan by Dawei Sherap, one of the co-authors of the present book, was published privately and with a limited distribution. A Tibetan Revolutionary provides a much fuller account, and one that will be required reading for anyone interested in the history of modern Tibet. There is a sizable bibliography of Tibetan lives in English, but most follow the familiar narrative of happy natives living in an idealized community before the annexation by China. Phünwang’s memoir—the book is the product of many long interviews conducted by Melvyn Goldstein, and is told in the first person—provides a far more complex account. It reveals the thinking and inspirations of a small group of Tibetans who wanted to bring reform and revolution to the Land of Snows and offers a wealth of information that will come as a revelation to readers.

Popular views of Phünwang fall into two camps: for traditionalists he is a collaborator and the man responsible for bringing the People’s Liberation Army to Tibet; for the liberal section of the Tibetan community he is the leader we never had, and his personal loss was a loss to the nation. Goldstein has done more than any other scholar to bring the complexity of modern Tibetan history, warts and all, to the public arena. This new biography is being eagerly read and internet postings already show that Phünwang has found followers among a younger generation of Tibetans, who will no doubt look to him for inspiration and mourn the wasted years.

Phünwang was born in 1922 in Batang, a small town—‘remote and beautiful’—in the Kham province of Eastern Tibet, some 500 miles east of Lhasa in what is now eastern Sichuan, then under the control of the Chinese warlord Liu Wenhui. A garrison town under the late Manchu dynasty, Batang had a modern government school that sent a stream of students, Phünwang’s uncle among them, to train as Chinese administrators in Nanjing. The boy’s baptism of fire in the turbulent politics of the region is vividly described. In 1932 Kesang Tsering, a local Nanjing-educated commander supposedly acting for the Guomindang, led an uprising in Batang against Liu Wenhui and proclaimed Tibetan rule. ‘Tall and strong, with a dark moustache, Kesang was a heroic figure to me and other youths’. Phünwang recalls him summoning the schoolboys to sing the ‘Song of the New Kham’ on the lines of Sun Yatsen’s slogan ‘nationalism, democracy, livelihood’. The victory was short-lived. Liu’s returning army exacted retribution, executing local leaders. The ten-year-old and his friends were knocking walnuts down from a tree when they heard the gunshots: Phünwang’s playmate’s father had been killed. Further revolts followed in 1935, with Phünwang’s uncle, Lobsang Thundrup, besieging the Chinese garrison at Batang, again in the name of the gmd, while Red Army units traversed the mountain ridge above the town on the Long March to the north-west. By the age of fourteen, Phünwang was determined to follow in the footsteps of Kesang and Lobsang, to study in Nanjing

so that I too could become a leader in the fight for freedom for our Tibetan people . . . I didn’t admire Kesang Tsering and my uncle simply because they had defied the Chinese [but] because they were educated, sophisticated and modern, as well as committed to the belief that Khampas had to rule Kham.

It was a teacher, Mr Wang, at the special academy run by Chiang Kaishek’s Mongolian and Tibetan Affairs Commission, who first introduced the sixteen-year-old Phünwang to Lenin’s Nationality and the Right to Self-Determination. With the Japanese invasion the academy was evacuated west to the temporary capital of Chongqing in Sichuan. Discipline loosened and political debate increased. For Phünwang and his fellow Tibetan students, Lenin’s formulations on national self-determination came as a revelation:

I understood what Lenin meant when he talked about the inevitable tension between the nationality that has power and the ones that do not . . . that the strong nationality would often use its power to oppress the smaller, weaker one, and that the smaller ones would fight bitterly against this. I felt sometimes as if Lenin knew exactly what I was thinking, what I cared about most.

Phünwang’s first attempts to organize his schoolfriends into a clandestine Tibetan Communist Revolutionary Group, and to petition around student issues, saw him expelled from the academy. Though shaken, he marched out of the school grounds singing at the top of his voice, vowing that he would not ‘slink away’.

Now nineteen, Phünwang returned to Kham, initially working as a Chinese language and music teacher while vigorously pursuing his political goals. The strategy of the tiny Tibetan Communist Party under his leadership during the 1940s was twofold: to win over progressive elements among the students and aristocracy in ‘political Tibet’—the kingdom of the Dalai Lama—to a programme of modernization and democratic reform, while building support for a guerrilla struggle to overthrow Liu Wenhui’s rule in Kham. The ultimate goal was a united independent Tibet, its feudal social structure fundamentally transformed. Phünwang gives a lively critical account of the arrogance of certain members of the traditional elite, the cruelty of some of the monks he encountered during his travels and the poverty of the peasants—worse than in China itself—under the heavy taxes and corvée labour system.

His story makes a riveting read. In Lhasa, Phünwang tried to persuade the youngest member of the Kashag, Tibet’s Council of Ministers, to provide rifles for the armed struggle in Kham. But the Kashag was pinning its hopes on an Axis victory: ‘When Japan conquers China, they will leave Tibet alone. They are a Buddhist country, and we are far away’, Phünwang was told. His next move was to try to contact the Indian Communist Party, with a view to reaching the Soviet Union. Travelling to Kalimpong with a trading caravan organized by his comrade Ngawang Kesang, and then by train to Calcutta, Phünwang was given a friendly welcome by the cpi but discouraged from making the trip across the North West Frontier into Soviet Central Asia: there were too many British troops in the area. Back in Lhasa, the Kashag was still unwilling to help, although Allied victory was now in sight. Phünwang and his comrades instead set out for Deqen, a Khampa area in Yunnan province, where a local militia leader, Gombo Tsering, was willing to join them in an uprising against Liu Wenhui. Betrayed and attacked by Gombo Tsering’s enemies, they were forced to flee back across the Drichu River into Tibet, hiding in the mountains and living on snow until Phünwang could finally make his way to the relative safety of his uncle’s house in Lhasa, at the end of 1947.

The political situation was in flux. In the spring of 1949 the Tibetan Communists heard that the Chinese cp had established guerrilla bases in Khampa areas of Yunnan, and that the Burmese cp also had a strong force in the area. While making plans to join them, Phünwang and his comrades were expelled from Lhasa by the Tibetan government, now jumpy at the prospect of imminent Communist victory in China. Travelling via India, the Tibetan Communists reached the field headquarters of the Western Yunnan forces in August 1949. Here, however, the Red Army commander, a Bai named Ou Gen, demanded that the Tibetans dissolve their party into the ccp as a condition of joint guerrilla activity. After much argument, Phünwang agreed. Forced to abandon his goal of ‘self-rule as an independent communist Tibet’, he explains here that he still hoped that working through the Chinese Communist Party would lead to ‘the restructuring of Kham, and possibly the whole Tibetan area on both sides of the Drichu River, as an autonomous republic that would function in a similar way to the autonomous socialist republics in the Soviet Union . . . it would be under Chinese sovereignty, but it would be controlled by Tibetans.’

Thus it was that, early in 1950, Phünwang—now a Party leader in liberated Batang—was summoned to a meeting in Chongqing with Deng Xiaoping, He Long and other commanders of the Southwest Bureau’s 18th Army, and appointed a leading advisor for the pla entry into Tibet. (Symbolically perhaps, the plane to Chongqing encountered such turbulence that Phünwang became airsick, and could find no other receptacle in which to throw up than his brand-new pla cap.) He played a key diplomatic role in negotiations over the Seventeen-Point Agreement between Beijing and Lhasa, and in winning acceptance for it from members of the Tibetan aristocracy. Almost from the start, he was critical of the chauvinism and ‘top-down’ attitude of many of the ccp cadres. Yet he was proud to have opened a secular school in Lhasa—earlier attempts to do so had been shut down by the monasteries—and established a newspaper, drawing in leading Tibetan intellectuals to write for it. Crucially, Phünwang sided with Deng’s Southwest Bureau in backing a cautious approach to social reform and winning the support of the Dalai Lama and monastic elite, against the leftism of the Northwest Bureau under Fan Ming, which favoured the Panchen Lama. Phünwang’s secondment to an official posting in Beijing from 1953 was the result, he argues here, of Fan Ming’s manoeuvring to get him out of Lhasa.

Phünwang was the trusted translator for talks between Mao and the 19-year-old Dalai Lama in Beijing in 1956 (taking it as his duty to make sure the boy did not get up to dance the foxtrot with the ladies of the State Dance troupe, as the ccp cadres liked to do). He recounts an unannounced visit by Mao to the Dalai Lama’s residence one evening, during which the former raised the matter of the Snow Lion flag still carried by the Tibetan Army, and which Fan Ming wished to ban. ‘There is no problem. You may keep your national flag’, Mao told him, according to Phünwang. ‘In the future, we can also let Xinjiang have their own flag, and Inner Mongolia too. Would it be ok to carry the national flag of the People’s Republic of China in addition to that flag?’ The Dalai Lama apparently nodded his head. For Phünwang, this was evidence that the ccp leadership was contemplating adopting the Soviet model of autonomous republics, at least for these three nationalities.

Yet the political climate was already shifting. Phünwang deplored the reforms imposed by fiat in Kham that would lead to the 1958–59 uprising, brutally crushed by the pla, and lamented the fact that the central government did not understand the relationship between Kham and Tibet. As a delegate to the 1957 National People’s Congress he was openly critical of Fan Ming’s policies. The following year he was summoned before a disciplinary committee and ordered to ‘cleanse his thinking’. The anti-rightist campaign was getting under way, and Phünwang became a non-person at the Nationalities Institute. In August 1960 he was arrested, accused of ‘counter-revolutionary acts’. He was thirty-eight. When he was finally released from the ‘Beijing Bastille’, after several periods of insanity, he was fifty-seven. The worst of many tortures he recalled was being bombarded by ‘electronic waves’ in his cell, which produced excruciating headaches. For months after his release he could not stop himself drooling. Impressively, after a year’s recovery, he returned to the fray, drafting proposals for an ‘autonomous republic’ model for the 1980 debate on the prc Constitution, and arguing powerfully that the pla should not be used for police work in the minority nationality regions, where its role was all too comparable to that of an army of occupation. When his suggestions drew down a damning 10-thousand-character attack from Party officials, Phünwang responded with a 25-thousand-character rebuttal. Now in his eighties and officially rehabilitated, he remains a critical voice, still attentively following developments in the Land of Snows.

Phünwang’s nationalist identity and assertion of the rights of the Tibetans presented a problem for the ccp. The Communist revolution in China was also, in its own way, an assertion of nationalism, and a desire to restore China’s greatness. In the pursuit of this, the aspirations of other groups were mere obstacles. Phünwang and other young radical Tibetans allied themselves with the ccp as a means of bringing reform and social change to Tibet; yet once China had established firm control over the region, the Tibetan Communists were deposed and replaced with Han officials. A leading political figure in the 1950s, Phünwang was the only Tibetan to possess any degree of authority during the first decade of Chinese rule. His knowledge of the language and his position as a socially aware figure made him into a vital cultural and political mediator, a role that gave him access to the highest levels of the ccp as well as to the Dalai Lama (who wrote of him affectionately in his autobiography). Yet Phünwang’s active political life was over by 1958. His fate and those of his comrades reveal the continuing problems of Beijing’s rule: after fifty years, the Party has not managed to promote a Tibetan to the top leadership in Lhasa. The dangerous accusation of ‘local nationalism’ pinned on Phünwang is still applied to any Tibetan who opposes the ccp’s policy. Such threats continue to silence indigenous leaders.

The use of the first-person narrative makes A Tibetan Revolutionary more of an autobiography than a biography, in the strict sense of the term. Phünwang’s voice carries the narrative forward and there is no attempt at critical or analytical judgement of his account. It is clear to readers that this is Phünwang’s view of events, and this is one of the book’s strengths. As such, however, it remains subject to debate and scrutiny. The prc is changing; the publication of this book is one indication of that, and of the increasing access now gained by scholars to materials in China and Tibet. Much of the information presented here has yet to be tested against historical and archival sources, and there may be differing versions still to appear. This in no way diminishes the importance of the book. It is quite likely that even after examining other sources, we will find Phünwang’s voice carries a greater degree of truth and accuracy than any other testimony published so far. There is a sense of authenticity in the narrative, established by a tone that does not dwell on recrimination over the lost years. Despite his personal suffering, Phünwang maintains a balanced outlook and never descends to self-pity. To some, his lack of anger will appear naïve, but careful reading reveals the strength of his character. Phünwang remains hopeful that China and Tibet may find a way to coexist. In talks with a delegation sent by the Dalai Lama in 1979, published here as an appendix, Phünwang discussed the Tibetan exiles’ characterization of him as ‘the red Tibetan who led the red Han into Tibet’ and defended his goals. The Communists—‘in the words of Chairman Mao’—were there

to help the Tibetans to stand up, to be the masters in their own home, reform themselves, engage in construction to improve the living standard of the people and build a happy new society. But I never meant to lead the Han people into Tibet to establish rule over the Tibetans by the Han people. If so, the ‘red Han’, the Liberation Army, and the ‘red Tibetans’ who were their guides are all phony communists.

The strategy, he insisted, must be judged on its upshot—how much further Tibetans have moved towards an improved living standard and being ‘masters of their home’ under the prc. It is such achievements as these that would make him, in his own words, one of the ‘good guys’. Indeed, one of the questions that this book poses is whether reforms would have occurred in Tibet if China had not intervened in 1950. Phünwang’s account allows us to trace the efforts of the small group of radicals who were working towards the creation of an indigenous social movement. Like his boyhood hero, Phünwang composed songs as much to educate his people as to inspire them. One stirring anthem from the 1940s begins:

Rise up, rise up, rise up,

Tibetan brothers.

The time for fighting has come but

Still haven’t you awoken from sleep?

We can no longer bear to live

Under the oppression of powerful officials.

Tsampa eaters, rise up,

Seize control of your own land.

Seize political power.

What is clear is that Phünwang was the victim of a revolution betrayed. This excellent, detailed account of his life will help future generations to decide for themselves whether he was indeed a good guy or not.

《A Tibetan Revolutionary: The Political Life and Times of Bapa Phuntso Wangye》的中文译本。

年年呼唤：11世班禅喇嘛，在哪里？

今天，2013年4月25日，是11世班禅喇嘛24岁的生日，本应该是值得庆祝的华诞，但是，早在1995年，他年仅6岁时，就被中国政府秘密劫持了。从此他被称为“全球最年幼的政治犯”，在漫长的十八个无人知晓其下落的年月里受到世界的关注。
 
他本是按照藏传佛教的传统和仪轨，由尊者达赖喇嘛认证的11世班禅喇嘛根敦•确吉尼玛。1995年5月17日，在尊者达赖喇嘛宣布他为十世班禅喇嘛转世灵童之后的第三天，这个出生于藏北羌塘草原（今西藏自治区那曲地区嘉黎县）的儿童，被中国政府从他的家中带走，被永久监禁在无人知道的地方。整整十八年，国际社会及人权组织多次向中国政府要求释放或探视根敦•确吉尼玛，都被绑架他的政权以各种借口拒绝。
 

十八年来，流亡海外的藏人和许多国家的人们，举着根敦•确吉尼玛唯一一张公诸于世的照片，要求中共政府还他自由。然而，已经年满24岁的11世班禅喇嘛，至今还不能回到他的主寺——扎什伦布，至今还不能与亲人团聚，至今还不能回到他的信众当中。藏传佛教格鲁派第二大领袖，藏北羌塘草原一户普通人家的孩子，一个活生生的人，整整十八年，就这么公然地、无声无息地在这个世界上消失了，而世界却似乎一直都莫可奈何！

曾有传言说他已在如同人间蒸发的囚禁中病故, 可我们无法确定这个传言真实与否，惟有揪心的痛楚与无比的思念……

而最近传出的消息是，他的父母及其他亲属被软禁在那曲地区嘉黎县的家中，有大批警察全天监控，不允许与任何人随意见面。当需要购买生活用品时，警察会代办；需要看病时，当局专派医生到家中诊断，不允许外出。
 
据透露，班禅喇嘛的母亲曾哭诉说：“世界所有的母亲中，唯有自己才是最为悲哀和伤心的母亲，因为作为一个孩子的母亲，连自己儿子的死活都无法获知。”

据报道，11世班禅喇嘛根敦•确吉尼玛于1989年4月25日出生于西藏自治区那曲地区嘉黎县，父亲名叫贡确平措，母亲名叫德庆曲珍，他有一个哥哥和一个姐姐。
 
无论如何，今天是11世班禅喇嘛24岁的生日。在漫长的失踪岁月里，他从一个儿童的年纪长到了一个青年的年纪，然而我们却不知他身在何处，甚至不知道他的生死，这对于遍及多卫康藏地以及境外藏地所有虔信他的藏人而言，可谓哀莫大焉！
 
我曾在1995年和2005年，写过关于班禅喇嘛的两首诗。一首写于1995年12月的一天，当天我原来的单位——西藏文联召开大会传达有关新班禅被党确立的文件，于是我当场写下这首诗。一首写于2005年10月的一天，刚读完BBC前记者、作家伊莎贝·希尔顿（Isabel Hilton）著述的《寻找班禅喇嘛》一书，于是写下这首诗。这两首诗被 A.E.Clark 先生译为英文。在这里一并贴出，以示对11世班禅喇嘛根敦•确吉尼玛的深深怀念。
 
    十二月
 
    1、
    听哪，大谎就要弥天
    林中的小鸟就要落下两只
    他说：西藏，西藏，正在幸福
 
    愤怒的女孩不节食
    遍地的袈裟也在变色
    他们说：为了保住这条命
 
    但那一个，啊！
    滚烫的血液，滚烫的血液
    谁在来世放声恸哭？
 
    2、
    乌云！崩溃！
    这是我此刻的幻象
 
    我也知道，此刻沉默
    就永远沉默
 
    千万张拉长的脸啊
    请敞开心扉
 
    那颜色尤为绛红的人
    牺牲一次
 
    因为生命之树常青
    灵魂，就是灵魂
 
    3、
    更大的挫折！
    万木从未有过的凋零
    小人物噤若寒蝉
 
    那样合拢的双手
    却被生生斩断
    要填满鹰犬的胃
 
    啊，一串无形的念珠
    谁有资格，从肮脏的
    尘世，毅然拾起？
 
    1995-12，拉萨
 
    班禅喇嘛
 
    如果时间可以抹煞谎言，
    十年是否足够？
    一个儿童长成聪颖少年，
    却像一只鹦鹉，喃喃学舌，
    那是乞求主子欢心的说辞！
 
    另一个儿童，他在哪里？
    他手腕上与生俱来的伤痕，
    是他的前世，在更早的十年
    在北京某个暗无天日的牢房，
    被一付手铐，紧紧地捆缚。
    而今，渺无音讯的儿童，
    是否已经遍体鳞伤？！
 
    如果黑暗有九重，
    他和他，身陷的是第几重？
    如果光明有九重，
    他和他，神往的是第几重？
    也许就在黑暗与光明的每一重
    他在身陷着，他在神往着......
 
    贡觉松！如此颠倒的人世间，
    怎样的无常之苦，
    竟在班禅喇嘛的身上轮回示现！
 
    （贡觉松：佛法僧三宝）
    2005-10-12，北京

December

1．
"Hear ye!" The big lie shall blot the sky,
Two sparrows in the wood shall fall.
"Tibet," he says, "Tibet is fine and flourishing!"

The furious girl will not bite her tongue.
Everywhere the monastic robe has lost its color.
They say: It's to save our skin.

But that one, oh,
The steaming blood poured out, the hot blood!
In the next life, who will grieve for him?

2．
Storm clouds! Doom!
In my mind's eye I see.

I know if I don't speak now
I'll be silent forever.

Sullen millions,
Lift up your hearts.

He was sacrificed once,
That man of deep red hue.

But as the tree of life is evergreen,
A soul is always a soul.

3．
A worse defeat!
Thouands of trees, blighted as never before.
The little folk are quiet as a cricket in the cold.

The pair of praying hands
Was chopped off
To cram the bellies of kites and curs.

Oh, that rosary unseen,
Who is worthy with a firm hand
To pick it up from the slime of this world?

December 1995, Lhasa

The Panchen Lama

If time can cover up a lie,
Is ten years enough?
A child matures into a clever youth,
But like a parrot, mumbles by rote
The phrases that will please his masters.

The other child, where is he?
The scar-like birthmark on his wrist recalls
His previous life, before, when for ten years
He sat trussed with tight handcuffs
In some Beijing cell no ray of light could reach.
What bruises mar him now,
The child no one hears from?

If there are nine levels to the darkness,
At which one are they trapped - he, and the other?
If there are nine levels to the light,
To which do they aspire - he, and the other?
Perhaps, in each phase of darkness and of light,
Where one is trapped, the other aspires.

Kunchoksum! The world's turned upside down,
That the pain of impermanence,
Of samsara, has struck home to the Panchen Lama!

12 October 2005, Beijing

《阳光时务周刊》44期<般若星空下：藏文学专题>

你或许见过高原、雪山、湖泊、八廓街的笑脸，你或许在新闻中见过愤激的面庞和自焚的火焰，然而无论旅行还是政治，都不如文学与艺术，更能引领你进入一地一族之气质、本心。比起事件与象征名词，记录与塑造着这个民族心绪和精神的文学，较少为人关注。于是我们邀请藏人作家唯色主持这一期藏文学专题，包括评论、诗、电影散记、小说各体裁。没有标准化的美景和笑颜，却可以看到当下全球化背景与特殊政治格局中的挣扎、伤恸、流亡、严酷、突兀……文字中的细节与心跳，或许可以引领我们的视角和思考，去到这个民族今日之灵魂的更深处。——《阳光时务周刊》

《阳光时务周刊》44期〈般若星空下：藏文学专题〉

 “感谢您为我们主持的西藏文学专题，实在是太精彩了……”“我读书的时候就喜欢看藏人的汉语诗歌，感觉他们对汉语有特别的敏感，可以在汉人写作者因为过于熟悉而忽视的地方停顿下来审视。这次看了你编选的作品，更加感到惊喜。我当时在评刊会上对编辑部说，藏人对汉语文学的贡献太大了，尤其在汉人写作几近荒废的时代。” 

——《阳光时务周刊》主编长平给唯色的邮件。 

「今天出刊的阳光，文化版专题是筹备了不少时间的『藏文学专题』。 

比起新闻、政治、事件名词，一地一族的气质、本心、精神、传统……更是在文学里得到记录和塑造。这里没有标准化的美景和笑颜，却可以看到当下全球化背景与特殊政治格局中的挣扎、伤恸、流亡、严酷、突兀……我们希望这些文字中的细节与心跳，可以引领我们的视角和思考，去到这个民族今日之灵魂的更深处。 

专题的特约主持人是藏人作家唯色。作者有藏、英、中文创作，体裁包括诗、小说、电影笔记、评论…… 

最令我动容的，是命运的相通。 

唯色在开篇文章里说，1959年后，『流亡』与『流亡者』成为这个民族的显著身份——『不论如此多的藏人是用母语写作，还是用中文、英文或任何一种文字写作，不论如此众多的藏人是寄居在达兰萨拉，还是寄居在纽约、伦敦或北京，还是依然留在自己的老家——都是流亡者，身体的或精神的流亡者！历时半个世纪的流亡，不但在地里上造成人为的阻隔，致使以漫长的边境线为界，西藏民族被划分为境内藏人和境外藏人两大群体……虽然出现了能够双语或者更多语言的写作者』 

而这流亡者的命运，又岂限于藏族？而今，即使居住在中国境内、但内心对这一文化/政体/国度保持『流亡者』心态的人，不已比比皆是吗？——我们都是流亡者。」 

——《阳光时务周刊》文化版编辑曹疏影

〈般若星空下：藏文学专题〉目录

综述：
身份、声音及其他（作者唯色）

诗歌：
般若之歌（作者拏怖）
返回（作者桑丹）
受伤的人（作者居•格桑，原诗藏文，中文译者龙仁青）
虚梦中（作者加布青•德卓，原诗藏文，中文译者华赞）
她在波士顿（作者Bhuchung D. Sonam布琼·D·索朗，原诗英文，中文译者Pazu）

影评：
《老狗》和《太阳总在左边》（作者Tsering Shakya茨仁夏加，原文英文，中文译者黄潇潇）

小说：
透明的陷阱（作者觉乃•云才让）

——“1959年改变了藏人的身分。之后，从未有过的，在藏人的文学史上，出现了以多种文字表述的声音：除了以母语写作的声音，也有以中文和英文等文字写作的声音，说起来多么地丰富多彩，却是百味杂陈。”

——“两部电影里，雄伟的雪山或连绵的高山草原产生的浪漫画面，被冷酷无情的风景所取代，人们在其中挣扎生存，乡镇在其中显得突兀而不协调。这样的风景，就为西藏高原上正在发生的改变之现状提供了背景。”

——“已经午夜时分了，帐篷里一片死寂，火塘里最后一点火，若隐若现，即将熄灭了，一股塑料袋子烧焦的味道，从她们家帐篷里，开始蔓延整个草原……”

唯色：身份、声音及其他

拏怖：般若之歌

桑丹：返回
居•格桑：受伤的人（原诗藏文，中译者龙仁青）

加布青•德卓：虚梦中（原诗藏文，中文译者华赞）
Bhuchung D. Sonam（布琼·D·索朗）：她在波士顿（原诗英文，中文译者Pazu）

Tsering Shakya（茨仁夏加）：《老狗》和《太阳总在左边》（原文英文，中文译者黄潇潇）

觉乃•云才让：透明的陷阱

茨仁夏加（Tsering Shakya）：抗议语言的转变

作者：Tsering Shakya（茨仁夏加），英属哥伦比亚大学亚洲研究所

译者：黄潇潇

  @xiaoxiaom

文章来源：《文化人类学》（Cultural Anthropology）学刊特刊

标题：Transforming the Language of Protest
原文网址：http://culanth.org/?q=node/524

四川藏区阿坝（Ngaba。CH：ABA）正被年轻藏人僧尼的自焚浪潮所席卷。截至本文写作时，已报道二十五起自焚事件，自焚也已蔓延到其他藏区。最近的报道，是青海省热贡（同仁县）的一位僧人点火自焚。为什么会有这样的行动？相关人士的理由和动机又是什么？

自焚作为一种公开抗议的形式，对西藏（唯色注：即图伯特）来说是新的，它表明许多藏人已经接受“自我牺牲”的叙述，并在藏民族主义复苏的背景中加以看待。毕竟，民族主义即身体与国家的合二为一，献上自己的身体是民族主义的一种关键的现代习俗。自焚与自杀式炸弹都不能从个人动机上得到解释。但与后者截然不同的是，自焚不是一种恐怖行为，而被视为施加于自身的痛苦，对他人并不造成伤害；它被视为一件可怖的事，其意在引起同情。对同族人和信仰者而言，这种行为是信仰和身份的宣示；前者迅速将自焚者奉为烈士。他们的行为提供了象征性资本，诉说着他们眼中的加害者与当权者的不公。这种行为的本意即为强迫对方妥协。但在中国，正如在所有威权政体下，这种结局不太可能，因为自焚行为对于当局就像绝食抗议。它们无异于勒索。

自焚作为一种抗议形式，并非佛教固有的行为，正如自杀式炸弹不是伊斯兰教固有的行为一样。把当前事件与宗教联系起来的原因是，多数自焚的藏人都是僧人或曾经是僧人，以及尼师。他们的行为并不是在顶礼宗教，实践善行。相反，这些行为表达的含义全然不同：它们是“愤怒”的产物，源自日常所受的侮辱以及令人无法忍受的强令一致与服从。西藏的宗教人士尤其要受“爱国主义教育”和反对所谓“达赖集团”的运动之管教。僧人认为这些运动是系统式的羞辱，要求他们无止境地阳奉阴违，强迫他们反复向共产党表明热爱和忠诚。那不是一项容易忍受的任务，而我们也看到他们终于拒绝接受。正如汉娜·阿伦特（Hannah Arendt）所说，愤怒不是由于贫穷而产生，却被激起于“我们的正义感遭到冒犯时”，人们愤怒并反抗是因为“有理由怀疑情况本可以得到改变，结果却没有。”[注1]

在突尼斯街头小贩穆罕默德·突阿齐齐（Mohamed Bouazizi）的例子中，自焚的动机既不是善行的宗教表达，也不为点燃阿拉伯之春。[注2] 那是一种对权威以及对国家在身体和生命上刻划烙印的否定。自从僧人释广德（Thich Quang Duc）于1963年以自焚抗议在他看来越南政府所采取的反佛教立场，自焚行为就进入了政治和抗议的全球语境，被那些有冤情并有理由与不公正做斗争的人所效仿和运用。对藏人来说，自焚极为情感化，在缺失其他表达选项的情况下，是很有必要的。自焚行为成为生命的记号，在强大的中国国家实力之下，证明了自身的存在。加诸自身的暴力是一种象征，以表达生存的意志以及抗拒强制性改造身体与空间的意志。

讽刺的是，牺牲作为一种政治行为，还是中国共产党引进西藏的。这是雷锋的残留效应。他是六十年代的模范士兵，在号召全国人民将自己完全奉献给国家的运动中，成为最著名的榜样。西藏的历史上没有为自己的民族或宗教牺牲自我的传统；这是一个外来概念，源自共产党所创造并捍卫的抗争语言，现在被藏人加以运用。

藏文里没有与英文“牺牲（sacrifice）”相对应的词。由于没有简单的方式来表达这个词所包含的情绪，藏人在寻找与此相关的适当用辞时很是费力。最近用来指作为一种牺牲行为的自焚时，意义最接近的词是“rang srog blos btang”（放弃自己的生命），但这并没有为一个伟大的事业献出自身的含义。同样的情况还有藏文词“lus sbyin”，意为“献上身体”，用来指佛陀以自己的身体作布施。将自身当做宗教祭品而献上，便没有任何抗议或否定的内涵。因此，寻找新的用辞反映出藏人中政治话语的流动性，以及抗议和抵制全球性语言的全面渗入。

无论藏人抗议者继续采取何种可怖行动，让中国当局有任何妥协的可能性都极为渺茫。在威权体制下，抗争和镇压的循环往复是政权僵化所导致的必然结果。再者，藏人的抗议也不会在多数中国人的意识中留下印记。这不仅是由于中国缺乏成熟的公民社会，也是因为中国人普遍认为，借用塔拉勒·阿萨德（Talal Asad）的说法就是，暴力和恐怖可以“用于未开化的人群”因为“他们没有主权国家。”[注3] 藏人的死亡并没有带来震惊，只是再次确定了他们的野蛮。这就是中央民族大学学者熊坤新的言外之意，他在官方报纸《环球时报》中说：“地理和历史因素让那里的藏族人民更好斗。”[注4]

藏人中有种感受，就是当前政权下不可能出现改变，因为现在看来政府已决意发展经济、开采资源，同时实施镇压。在政府眼中，僧尼的生活与现代中国格格不入，在经济上无生产力，又拒绝适应当前政府的新自由主义观点，即资本主义市场和消费会解救每个人。因为政府免除少数民族实行一胎制的优惠政策与他们不相干，他们的生活就否定了政府的生命权力（biopower），他们因此就要受到监视和特别管教，以确保其主观意识向政府意志屈服。如同一位僧人曾向我描述的那样，政府的诸多管教束缚之徒劳，就好像陶工要造无底的花瓶一样。在其他所有问题的背后，皆是这种“不可能过有意义的生活”的感受。这种“不可能”就是今日西藏自焚事件的根源。

2012年3月28日

注释：

[1] Hannah Arendt, Reflections on Violence, The New York Review of Books, February 27, 1969.

[2] Fassin, Didier, “The Trace: Violence, Truth, and the politics of the Body”, Social Research, 78:2, 2011, pp: 281-298.

[3] Asad, Talal. On Suicide Bombing, Columbia University Press, 2007, p. 26

[4] People’s Daily Online, 08:59, February, http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/102774/7725303.html

Transforming the Language of Protest

Tsering Shakya, Institute of Asian Research, University of British Columbia

The Tibetan region of Ngaba (Ch: Aba) in Sichuan province is engulfed in a wave of self-immolations by young Tibetan monks and nuns.  At the time of writing, twenty-five cases have been reported and immolations have spread to other Tibetan areas. The latest report is of a monk setting himself on fire in Rebkong (Ch:Tongren), Qinghai Province. Why are such actions happening? What are the causes and motivations of those involved?

Self-immolation as a form of public protest, new to Tibet, demonstrates that many Tibetans have embraced the narrative of “self sacrifice” and have come to see it in the context of the resurgence of Tibetan nationalism. After all, giving one’s body is one of the key modern idioms of nationalism: the conflating of body and nation. Like suicide bombing, self-immolation cannot be explained by individual motivation. Yet, in contrast to the latter, self-immolation is not an act of terror and is seen instead as self-inflicted pain that causes no damage to others; it is seen as a horror intended to induce empathy. For co-nationals and the religious, the act is a statement of faith and identity; the former are quick to embrace the self-immolators as martyrs. Their act provides symbolic capital; it speaks of injustice from the perceived perpetrator to those in power. It is an act that is meant to coerce concessions. But in China, as in all authoritarian regimes, it is unlikely to lead to such an outcome, since the acts of self-immolation are like hunger strikes to the authorities. They are tantamount to blackmail.

Self-immolation as a form of protest is not intrinsically a Buddhist act any more than suicide bombing is an Islamic act. What links the current incidents to religion is that most of the Tibetans who have committed self-immolation have been monks, former monks or nuns. Their actions were not an obeisance to religion or the performing of virtue. Rather, they signify something entirely different: they are a product of “rage,” induced by daily humiliation and intolerable demands for conformity and obedience. Religious figures in Tibet have been particularly subjected to the discipline of patriotic education and the campaigns opposing the so-called "Dalai clique.” These campaigns, viewed by the monks as a regime of degradation, require them to endlessly feign compliance, obliging them to demonstrate repeatedly their patriotism and fidelity to the Communist Party. That is not an easy task to sustain, and we see that it has finally become something they refuse to do. As Hannah Arendt put it, rage arises not as a result of poverty but “when our sense of justice is offended.” People react with rage “where there is reason to suspect that conditions could be changed and are not.”[1] 

In the case of Mohamed Bouazizi, a street vendor in Tunisia, self-immolation was neither intended as a religious expression of virtue nor as a spark to ignite the Arab Spring.[2]  It was a disavowal of authority and of state inscription over body and life. Ever since the monk Thich Quang Duc self-immolated in 1963 as a protest against what he considered to be the anti-Buddhist stance of the Vietnamese government, the act of self-immolation has entered the global vocabulary of politics and protest, where it is imitated and appropriated by those with grievances and reasons to fight perceived injustice.  For the Tibetans, self-immolation is invested with emotion and is deemed necessary in the absence of other options for expression.  It becomes a sign of life and demonstrates one’s existence against the might of the Chinese state.  Self-inflicted violence is a symbolic gesture of the will to survive and resist coercive transformation of body and space.

Ironically, sacrifice as a political act is something the Chinese Communists introduced to Tibet. It is a residual effect of Lei Feng, the model soldier of the 1960s who was the most famous exemplar in a campaign that called on all citizens to dedicate themselves totally to the nation. In Tibetan history, there is no tradition of sacrificing oneself for one’s nation or religion; this is an alien concept that Tibetans now have appropriated from the language of resistance coined and championed by the Communist Party.  

There is no Tibetan term equivalent to the English word “sacrifice.” Tibetans struggle to find appropriate terminology to express this concept, having no easy way to convey the sentiments it embodies.  The closest term used recently for self-immolation in the sense of an act of sacrifice is “rang srog blos btang” (giving up one’s life), but this does not have a sense of offering oneself for a greater cause.  Nor does the Tibetan term lus sbyin, meaning “offering of the body,” which is used for the Buddha’s offering of his body as alms. The offering of the self as religious gift holds no connotation of protest or disavowal. Thus, the search for new terminology reflects the shifting nature of political discourse among Tibetans and its permeation everywhere by the global language of protest and resistance.  

Whatever horrific forms of action the Tibetan protesters might continue to adopt, it is most unlikely they will achieve any form of concession from the Chinese authorities. In an authoritarian system, the cycle of resistance and repression is an inevitable consequence of the inflexibility of the regime.  Moreover, the Tibetans’ protests will not make a dent on the consciousness of most Chinese. This is not only because China lacks a developed civil society but also because it is widely believed in China that violence and terror can be used, to borrow a phrase from Talal Asad, “against uncivilized populations” because “they lack a sovereign state.”[3]  There is no shock in the death of Tibetans; it merely reaffirms their barbarity. This was the implication behind the statement by Xiong Kunxin, a scholar from Chinese Minzu University, in the state newspaper Global Times that “geographic and historical factors made Tibetan people there more aggressive.”[4]

There is a sense amongst the Tibetans of the impossibility of change under the current regime, bent as it is on economic and resource extraction and subjugation. The lives of monks and nuns are seen as incongruous in modern China, economically unproductive and refusing to fit into the current state’s neo-liberal belief that market capitalism and consumption will liberate everyone. Since the beneficent exemption of minorities from the one child policy is irrelevant for them, their lives negate the biopower of the state, and they therefore are subject to surveillance and particular kinds of discipline that must bend their subjectivity to the will of the state.  As a monk once described it to me, the disciplinary strictures of the state are as futile as a potter making a bottomless vase. Beneath all other questions is this sense of the “impossibility of making a meaningful life.”  This impossibility is the root cause of the self-immolations in Tibet today.

March 28, 2012

NOTES

[1] Hannah Arendt, Reflections on Violence, The New York Review of Books, February 27, 1969.

[2] Fassin, Didier, “The Trace: Violence, Truth, and the politics of the Body”, Social Research, 78:2, 2011, pp: 281-298.

[3] Asad, Talal.  On Suicide Bombing, Columbia University Press, 2007, p. 26

[4] People’s Daily Online, 08:59, February, http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/102774/7725303.html

延伸阅读：

《文化人类学》（Cultural Anthropology）关于藏人自焚之特刊http://woeser.middle-way.net/2012/04/cultural-anthropology.html