The second book in my self-assigned "year of Tibet" study was Heinrich Harrer's account of his flight from a British P.O.W. camp into Tibet. I'll admit, a memoir would not have been my first choice, but when I finished Laird's The Story of Tibet, most of the historical books I had chosen were still on their way by FedEx. Besides, the title struck a chord (I've often thought my own memoir of my life in Hell Beijing should be entitled Seven Years in China), and the writing style looked light enough that I decided I could probably finish it before January was over.
Thank God, FedEx is as slow as it is.
This turned out to be one of the most informative and enlightening books I've ever read.
First of All, He's Austrian
The author, born in Austria, was a soldier of the German Army who was in India when WW2 broke out and who, as such, was taken prisoner by the British regime there. This fact is something the Chinese Communist Party latched onto in their laughably twisted biography of the Dalai Lama by repeatedly using it as a club with which to thrash the Tibetan leader: "One of the Dalai Lama's tutors was a Nazi... One of the Dalai Lama's tutors was a Nazi... One of the Dalai Lama's tutors was a Nazi..."
For the record, the words "Nazi," "Hitler," "Reich," "Fuhrer" and "Jew" are completely absent from the book, and the closest thing to a Concentration Camp that is mentioned is the Chinese re-education centers he alludes to near the end. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My point here is simply that China's official line regarding this book, that it is "joint Nazi-Tibetan propaganda by the Dalai Lama and his Neo-Nazi clique," is, upon completion of the book, every bit as utterly ridiculous as it sounds at first blush.
Not the Tale One Expects
Having never seen the 1997 movie based on this book, I went in with the expectation that the author's time in Lhasa and his relationship with the Dalai Lama would be the crux of the book. However, the author does not even reach Lhasa until page 123 (of 321). The first actual conversation between Harrer and the young Dalai Lama does not even take place until page 256.
Instead, the book focuses mostly on the author's observations of everyday life in Tibet in the 1940's. He does not mince words about the feudal structure of the country, nor does he tapdance around and try to avoid describing the peasants as "serfs," as many books have done since the Chinese invasion. Though he does not hide his tender affection for the Nation of Tibet, he avoids the trap of painting the country with a falsely rosy brush and highlights both the good and the bad of pre-occupation Tibetan life.
As is usual in a feudally organized country, the peasant manages the property for his landlord and must produce so much for the latter before making any profit for himself. (p. 121)
Tibet has not yet been infested by the worst disease of modern life, the everlasting rush. (p. 153)
The author's observations of Tibetan prowess in combat also put paid to the notion that the "Land of Snows" is a pacifist country full of docile monks.
Competitors have to show off their skill in riding and shooting. When I saw what they could do, I simply could not get over it! They stood upright in the saddle and while their horses were galloping past a hanging target, swung up their matchlocks and shot into the bell's-eye. Before they had reached their next target, twenty yards away, they had exchanged their muskets for bows and arrows. (p. 173)
As an experienced shooter and (once upon a time) rider, it's no hyperbole to say my jaw physically dropped when I read that. Accuracy with a weapon while standing upright on a horse, at a gallop? Changing weapons in that space of time is difficult under ideal conditions but to do it while galloping, and still make the musket-shot and bow-shot both count? That's worthy of Genghis Khan's army!
Not All That's Red is Rosy
As the author does not sugarcoat his descriptions of pre-invasion Tibet, nor does he pull punches in describing the PLA's invasion (which China laughably refers to as "the Peaceful Liberation of Tibet") in all its monstrosity, and he's plain that the Tibetans knew beforehand this would be the case.
The threatening attitude of China, though traditional, had now become intensified. (p. 218)
Most of the monks of Sera had fled to China. It usually happened that when there was a rising in Tibet the Chinese had a finger in the pie. (p. 230 & 231)
I knew how much the young king [the Dalai Lama] desired to lead his people one day out of the fog of gloomy superstition. We dreamed and talked endlessly about enlightenment and future reforms... But the future held out no prospect of realizing our visions, and Aufschnaiter and I were clear-sighted enough not to feed on false hopes. It was inevitable that Red China would invade Tibet. (p. 296)
Nor was he shy about exposing the not-even-quasi-believable nature of China's propaganda surrounding their invasion.
Unfortunately, the notes [Robert] Ford made of these harmless conversations [via radio with civilians all over the world] later proved his undoing. On his flight before the Chinese invaders, he was caught and captured. The wildest charges were brought against him. He was accused among other things of poisoning a lama, and the entries in his notebooks were interpreted as espionage. (p. 220)
Let the record show that the Chinese government still, to this very day, persists in the idiotic claims that these charges were legitimate, that Ford was a "foreign imperialist representative," and they even cite this myth as part of their paper-thin pretext for invading Tibet.
But then, I've already commented on the fact that China has spent so many millennia governing sheep who never questioned authority, that they don't even seem to grasp that there is any need to try and make propaganda believable.
Through Western Eyes
One of the interesting aspects of this book was its description of Tibetan religious life. The author persistently uses Judeo-Christian terminology when describing the religious structure of the Gelug Buddhists. For example, Tsug Lag Khan is referred to as a "Cathedral (p. 257)," and its inner sanctum is referred to as "The Holy of Holies (p. 258)," a term used in the Old Testament to describe the part of the ancient Israeli temple that housed the Ark of the Covenant. And of course, he refers to the religious organization of the government as "The Church," with the "C" capitalized.
At first I found this jarring, but in the end I found it was an insightful way to frame what might otherwise seem to be a land utterly and bafflingly alien, in terms a Western audience can nod at and say "I get it." Frankly, I wish this was done more often.
So Who Should Read It?
For the serious Tibetologist, this book will hold no new insights. I'll confess that. However, for anyone who debates the status of Tibet before the Chinese invasion of 1950, the question of whether the average Tibetan's life was better before or after the invasion will invariably arise. This book tends to shred both the "Monkish slavery and toil" narrative of the CCP, and the "snow-capped Shangri-La" vision put forth by most critics of the former. It's unbiased, sober, and frank in both the positive and negative sides of Tibetan life before the invasion.
Also, for anyone who likes adventure stories, this one will satisfy. I had to stop and remind myself often "this isn't a novel. This is a memoir of something that actually happened." It took me a grand total of 10 days to finish it, and while I can't say it expanded my knowledge of Tibet overmuch (or perhaps that should be "ubermuch, given the background of book's author), it was at least a pleasant 10 days.
