Sun Shuyun
She talks to Olivia Edward about Chinese censorship, the Free Tibet
campaigns and what she sees as the biggest threat to traditional
Tibetan culture.
Can you tell us about A Year in Tibet?
The series and the book are about how this group of characters get on, cope and struggle with their lives in this extraordinary place, in this extraordinary time. In the current crisis, I hope it provides a background for what people are arguing about. I would say that 95 per cent of the people who are arguing about it have never been there and they write with such conviction, whereas what is actually happening on the ground is like a fog.
Why did you choose to film in Gyantse, Tibet’s third-largest town?
It’s such a beautiful town, so when we were talking about choosing a location, I immediately thought of Gyantse. The second reason we chose there is because it’s the town that British explorer [Sir Francis] Younghusband took with a huge battle at the cost of 3,000 Tibetan lives. It was a disastrous expedition because it didn’t really result in anything at all. People try to knock on their door – whether it’s the Chinese, the Manchus, the Communists, the British – but Tibet’s determination to remain itself is quite extraordinary.
Do you think British people today are aware of their country’s violent history in Tibet?
People’s memories are really short. People say ‘look at the brutality of the Chinese invasion’, but nobody mentions Younghusband, and that battle was tough because it was Tibet’s first engagement with the outside world. But today, the British forget about it, and the Tibetans would too if it wasn’t for the Chinese government, who keep calling these people heroes in an attempt to say British imperialism was really evil. The Tibetans are very charitable people because memory, especially of these bad things, is like luggage: you carry too much with you and it will weigh you down.
Did you ever self-censor what you said in the book to make sure you didn’t offend the Chinese government?
With the Chinese, what you have to understand – and I think a lot of the people in the [Free Tibet] campaigns don’t understand – is that, in a way, they don’t mind what you say, they mind how you say it. If you say, ‘You purposefully did this’, and ‘This is instigated by you’, it becomes accusation. Instead you say, ‘This is what happened’, ‘This is what people thought’, ‘This is what people told me’. The audience draws its own conclusions.
When you were growing up in China, what were you taught about Tibet?
[That it was] the most primitive, the most backward, the cruellest and the most inhumane, feudal society in the whole of the world. That’s what we were taught. And that’s still very much the education that the Chinese kids get about what Tibetan society was like before 1957. But then you look at the Western-tainted views: it’s Shangri-La, it’s peaceful, it’s happiness, it’s contentment. I think the truth is somewhere in the middle, but neither side wants to hear it.
Many of the families in your book still live in polyandrous units where one woman is married to several men. You make it sound like a very practical arrangement
That’s the whole origin of polyandry: it is a practical arrangement. The Tibetan plateau is such a self-contained economy. So one brother will look after the animals; another brother will work on the land and do any work in the house; the third brother will be a craftsmen so he will earn more cash for the family to go on pilgrimages; and if there’s a fourth man in the household, he will go to a monastery. Only by combining all of this will the family have sufficiency.
What do you think is the biggest threat to traditional Tibetan culture?
The threat is like two daggers: government control and modernity. When people are oppressed, they hold on to everything you told them not to. It’s like children. It’s because it’s theirs; good or bad, it’s theirs. In a way, that’s why Tibetan culture comes back so quickly after almost total destruction. It’s bought back in force, almost with a vengeance. But when something is offered to you, as part of modernity, you take it happily, without a grudge. And in that way, you absorb it much more quickly than if someone is trying to force it down your throat.
What are your thoughts on the Free Tibet campaigns?
I think the Tibetans are so grateful for this voice. But I’m not sure about the focus of the current international campaigns on boycotting the Olympic Games and Free Tibet. Tibetan independence isn’t really on the agenda. Even the Dalai Lama says that isn’t a reality: a settlement for greater autonomy is his goal. And boycotting the games has serious repercussions. It doesn’t hurt the government, it hurts the people. And ultimately, it turns the Chinese people against the West, closes that door, that dialogue of engagement, and perhaps removes any sympathy the Chinese people have for the Tibetans. What good does
that do for the Tibetans?
So what is the way forward?
If there is a solution for Tibet, it has to be found with the Chinese government, because it isn’t going to be solved independently of them. The world’s attention is focused on Tibet. Wonderful. But where do we go from there? We need a dialogue. And we need to ask the people who are in my film what they really want and how they want to be treated. I think that’s crucial. It’s not what you think, it’s not what I think, it’s what they think.
Sun Shuyun’s book, A Year in Tibet (Harper Press, £20), is out now
July 2008
Can you tell us about A Year in Tibet?
The series and the book are about how this group of characters get on, cope and struggle with their lives in this extraordinary place, in this extraordinary time. In the current crisis, I hope it provides a background for what people are arguing about. I would say that 95 per cent of the people who are arguing about it have never been there and they write with such conviction, whereas what is actually happening on the ground is like a fog.
Why did you choose to film in Gyantse, Tibet’s third-largest town?
It’s such a beautiful town, so when we were talking about choosing a location, I immediately thought of Gyantse. The second reason we chose there is because it’s the town that British explorer [Sir Francis] Younghusband took with a huge battle at the cost of 3,000 Tibetan lives. It was a disastrous expedition because it didn’t really result in anything at all. People try to knock on their door – whether it’s the Chinese, the Manchus, the Communists, the British – but Tibet’s determination to remain itself is quite extraordinary.
Do you think British people today are aware of their country’s violent history in Tibet?
People’s memories are really short. People say ‘look at the brutality of the Chinese invasion’, but nobody mentions Younghusband, and that battle was tough because it was Tibet’s first engagement with the outside world. But today, the British forget about it, and the Tibetans would too if it wasn’t for the Chinese government, who keep calling these people heroes in an attempt to say British imperialism was really evil. The Tibetans are very charitable people because memory, especially of these bad things, is like luggage: you carry too much with you and it will weigh you down.
Did you ever self-censor what you said in the book to make sure you didn’t offend the Chinese government?
With the Chinese, what you have to understand – and I think a lot of the people in the [Free Tibet] campaigns don’t understand – is that, in a way, they don’t mind what you say, they mind how you say it. If you say, ‘You purposefully did this’, and ‘This is instigated by you’, it becomes accusation. Instead you say, ‘This is what happened’, ‘This is what people thought’, ‘This is what people told me’. The audience draws its own conclusions.
When you were growing up in China, what were you taught about Tibet?
[That it was] the most primitive, the most backward, the cruellest and the most inhumane, feudal society in the whole of the world. That’s what we were taught. And that’s still very much the education that the Chinese kids get about what Tibetan society was like before 1957. But then you look at the Western-tainted views: it’s Shangri-La, it’s peaceful, it’s happiness, it’s contentment. I think the truth is somewhere in the middle, but neither side wants to hear it.
Many of the families in your book still live in polyandrous units where one woman is married to several men. You make it sound like a very practical arrangement
That’s the whole origin of polyandry: it is a practical arrangement. The Tibetan plateau is such a self-contained economy. So one brother will look after the animals; another brother will work on the land and do any work in the house; the third brother will be a craftsmen so he will earn more cash for the family to go on pilgrimages; and if there’s a fourth man in the household, he will go to a monastery. Only by combining all of this will the family have sufficiency.
What do you think is the biggest threat to traditional Tibetan culture?
The threat is like two daggers: government control and modernity. When people are oppressed, they hold on to everything you told them not to. It’s like children. It’s because it’s theirs; good or bad, it’s theirs. In a way, that’s why Tibetan culture comes back so quickly after almost total destruction. It’s bought back in force, almost with a vengeance. But when something is offered to you, as part of modernity, you take it happily, without a grudge. And in that way, you absorb it much more quickly than if someone is trying to force it down your throat.
What are your thoughts on the Free Tibet campaigns?
I think the Tibetans are so grateful for this voice. But I’m not sure about the focus of the current international campaigns on boycotting the Olympic Games and Free Tibet. Tibetan independence isn’t really on the agenda. Even the Dalai Lama says that isn’t a reality: a settlement for greater autonomy is his goal. And boycotting the games has serious repercussions. It doesn’t hurt the government, it hurts the people. And ultimately, it turns the Chinese people against the West, closes that door, that dialogue of engagement, and perhaps removes any sympathy the Chinese people have for the Tibetans. What good does
that do for the Tibetans?
So what is the way forward?
If there is a solution for Tibet, it has to be found with the Chinese government, because it isn’t going to be solved independently of them. The world’s attention is focused on Tibet. Wonderful. But where do we go from there? We need a dialogue. And we need to ask the people who are in my film what they really want and how they want to be treated. I think that’s crucial. It’s not what you think, it’s not what I think, it’s what they think.
Sun Shuyun’s book, A Year in Tibet (Harper Press, £20), is out now
July 2008
