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March 24 A week in Tibet: Trashing the Beijing RoadMar 19th 2008 | LHASA Our Beijing correspondent happened to be in Lhasa as the riots broke out. Here is what he saw
ETHNIC-Chinese shopkeepers in Lhasa's old Tibetan quarter knew better than the security forces that the city had become a tinder-box. As word spread rapidly through the narrow alleyways on March 14th that a crowd was throwing stones at Chinese businesses, they shuttered up their shops and fled. The authorities, caught by surprise, held back as the city was engulfed by its biggest anti-Chinese protests in decades. What began, or may have begun (Lhasa feeds on rumor), as the beating of a couple of Buddhist monks by police has turned into a huge political test for the Chinese government. Tibet has cast a pall over preparations to hold the Olympic games in Beijing in August. Protests in Lhasa have triggered copycat demonstrations in several monasteries across a vast swathe of territory in the “Tibet Autonomous Region” of China and in areas around it (see map). Not since the uprising of 1959, during which the Dalai Lama, Tibet's spiritual leader, fled to India, has there been such widespread unrest across this oxygen-starved expanse of mountains and plateaus.
Years of rapid economic growth, which China had hoped would dampen separatist demands, have achieved the opposite. Efforts to integrate the region more closely with the rest of China, by building the world's highest railway connecting Beijing with Lhasa, have only fueled ethnic tensions in the Tibetan capital. The night before the riots erupted, a Tibetan government official confided to your correspondent that Lhasa was now stable after protests by hundreds of monks at monasteries near the city earlier in the week. He could not have been more wrong. It was, perhaps, a sign of the authorities' misreading of Lhasa's anger that a foreign correspondent was in the city at all. Foreign journalists are seldom given permission to visit. In January 2007, in preparation for the Olympics, the central government issued new regulations that supposedly make it much easier for them to travel around the country. Travel to Tibet, however, still requires a permit. The Economist's visit was approved before the monks protested on March 10th and 11th, but the authorities apparently felt sufficiently in control to allow the trip to go ahead as planned from March 12th. As it turned out, several of the venues on the pre-arranged itinerary became scenes of unrest. Rioting began to spread on the main thoroughfare through Lhasa, Beijing Road (a name that suggests colonial domination to many a Tibetan ear), in the early afternoon of March 14th. It had started a short while earlier outside the Ramoche Temple, in a side street close by, after two monks had been beaten by security officials. (Or so Tibetan residents believe; the official version says it began with monks stoning police.) A crowd of several dozen people rampaged along the road, some of them whooping as they threw stones at shops owned by ethnic Han Chinese—a group to which more than 90% of China's population belongs—and at passing taxis, most of which in Lhasa are driven by Hans. The rioting quickly fanned through the winding alleyways of the city's old Tibetan area south of Beijing Road. Many of these streets are lined with small shops, mostly owned by Hans or Huis, a Muslim ethnic group that controls much of Lhasa's meat trade. Crowds formed, seemingly spontaneously, in numerous parts of the district. They smashed into non-Tibetan shops, pulled merchandise onto the streets, piled it up and set fire to it. Everything from sides of yak meat to items of laundry was thrown onto the pyres. Rioters delighted in tossing in cooking-gas canisters and running for cover as they exploded. A few yelled “Long live the Dalai Lama!” and “Free Tibet!” For hours the security forces did little. But the many Hans who live above their shops in the Tibetan quarter were quick to flee. Had they not, there might have been more casualties. (The government, plausibly, says 13 people were killed by rioters, mostly in fires.) Some of those who remained, in flats above their shops, kept the lights off to avoid detection and spoke in hushed tones lest their Mandarin dialect be heard on the streets by Tibetans. One Han teenager ran into a monastery for refuge, prostrating himself before a red-robed Tibetan abbot who agreed to give him shelter. The destruction was systematic. Shops owned by Tibetans were marked as such with traditional white scarves tied through their shutter-handles. They were spared destruction. Almost every other one was wrecked. It soon became difficult to navigate the alleys because of the scattered merchandise. Chilli peppers, sausages, toys (child looters descended on those), flour, cooking oil and even at one spot scores of small-denomination bank notes were ground underfoot by triumphant Tibetan residents into a slippery carpet of filth. During the night the authorities sent in fire engines, backed by a couple of armoured personnel-carriers laden with riot police, to put out the biggest blazes. By dawn they had also sealed off the Tibetan quarter with a ring of baton-carrying troops and stationed officers with helmets and shields in the square in front of the Jokhang temple, Tibet's most sacred shrine, in the heart of the old district. But they did not move into the alleys, where rioting continued for a second day. Residents within the security cordon attacked the few Han businesses left unscathed and set new fires among the piles of debris. The risks of crackdownHan Chinese in Lhasa were baffled and enraged by the slow reaction of the security forces. Thousands of people probably lost most, if not all, of their livelihoods (the majority of Lhasa's small businesses have no insurance, let alone against rioting). But the authorities were clearly hamstrung by the political risks involved. Going in with guns blazing—the tactic used to suppress the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989 and the last serious outbreak of anti-Chinese unrest in Lhasa earlier that year—would risk inciting international calls for a boycott of the Olympic games. Instead they chose to let the rioters vent their anger, then gradually tighten the noose. On March 15th occasional rounds of tear-gas fired at stone-throwing protesters eventually gave way to a more concerted effort to clear the streets. Paramilitary police began moving into the alleys, firing occasional bullets: not bursts of gunfire, but single deliberate shots, probably more in warning than with intent to kill. They also moved from rooftop to rooftop to deter residents from gathering on terraces overlooking the alleys. Rumours abounded of Tibetans killed by security forces in isolated incidents during the earlier rioting, but not during the final push to reassert control over the city. By Chinese standards (not high when it comes to riot control), that effort appeared relatively measured. By late on March 15th the alleys were quiet. Patrols firing the odd bullet kept most of them deserted the next day, too. A Western student said she saw six Tibetan boys hauled out of their homes by troops, pushed to the ground, kicked and beaten with batons. The boys were then bundled into a bus and driven away. Troops covered up the bloodstains on the road with a white substance, she said. The Tibetan quarter is now gripped by fears of widespread and indiscriminate arrests as the authorities attempt to find “ringleaders”. China's official news agency says 105 rioters have surrendered to the police. When residents began venturing out more normally on March 17th, the extent of the rioting became clear. Numerous Han Chinese-owned premises well beyond the Tibetan quarter had been attacked. Several buildings had been gutted by fire. The gate of the city's main mosque was charred, and the windows of the guard-house of the Tibet Daily, the region's Communist Party mouthpiece, had been smashed. The city was under martial law in all but name. The government said that only police were involved in the security operation, but there were many military-looking vehicles on the streets with their tell-tale licence-plates covered up or removed. Some troops refused to say what force they belonged to. Two armoured personnel-carriers were parked in front of the Potala Palace, Lhasa's most famous tourist attraction on the side of the hill overlooking the city, which is now closed. Troops with bayonets were deployed along roads leading to the city's main monasteries, which have been sealed off by police. The rioting on March 14th and 15th involved mainly ordinary citizens, but monks are often at the forefront of separatist unrest in Tibet. The approaching flameThe government's decision not to declare martial law, or any emergency restrictions, reflected its concern about the Olympics. In March 1989 the authorities imposed martial law in Lhasa to quell separatist unrest. Its measures were barely distinguishable from those now in force in the city. The old Tibetan area has been sealed off by gun-carrying troops, but officials prefer to refer euphemistically to “special traffic-control measures”. This time foreign tourists in Lhasa have been “advised” rather than ordered to leave. On March 18th police and troops began moving the 100 or so remaining tourists to hotels far from the site of the riots. In 1989 foreign journalists were expelled from Lhasa. This time your correspondent was allowed to stay, but only until his permit expired on March 19th. No others were allowed in. For all the government's attempts to appear unruffled, the recent unrest in Tibet exceeds the challenge it faced in 1989. Since March 10th protests have been reported not only in Lhasa's main monasteries (Drepung, Sera and Ganden), but also at Samye Monastery about 60km east of Lhasa, Labrang Monastery in Gansu province, Kirti Monastery in Sichuan province and Rongwo Monastery in Qinghai province. Tibet's traditional boundaries stretch into these provinces. Outside Labrang Monastery Tibetans attacked Han Chinese shops on March 15th. TibetInfoNet, a news service based in Britain, reported several protests in various parts of Gansu on March 16th. Unlike in the ethnic violence in Lhasa, it said, the protesters' main targets were symbols of state power and government-owned properties. The challenge is partly a security one. The martial-law regulations imposed in Lhasa in March 1989 were not lifted until May the following year. This time China will need to move faster to restore a semblance of normality. On June 20th the Olympic flame, having been carried up the Tibetan side of Mount Everest the previous month, is due to arrive in Lhasa, where a big ceremony is planned. Barring journalists and flooding Lhasa's streets with troops would be embarrassing. More so would be cancelling the event. But easing the clampdown would be risky. Many Tibetans see the Olympics as a golden opportunity to bring the world's attention to their problems under Chinese rule. Tibetans living outside China, particularly in India, have been taking advantage of the Olympics to step up their publicity efforts. This is an annoyance to India, which does not want to disrupt relations with China by appearing to condone efforts to disrupt the games. Indian police have blocked efforts, launched on March 10th by hundreds of dissident Tibetans, to stage a march across the mountains into their homeland. China worries too about the possibility that other ethnic minorities in China, particularly Muslim Uighurs in the far western region of Xinjiang, may be emboldened by Tibetan activism if it is left unchecked. The Chinese authorities have played up reports about recent alleged terrorist activities in Xinjiang (as an excuse to suppress peaceful dissent, say sceptics), including what officials say was an attempt by a Uighur woman to start a fire on board a flight bound for Beijing on March 7th. Richer, but not happierThe longer-term challenge for China is to rethink its Tibet policy. One reason why Chinese officials appeared so surprised by the unrest is that Tibet has not behaved like the rest of China, where rapid economic growth appears to have staved off a repeat of Tiananmen-style protests. A surge of government spending on infrastructure in recent years and strong growth in Tibet's tourism industry (made easier by the new infrastructure, especially the rail link, which was opened in 2006) have helped the region's GDP growth rate stay above 12% for the past seven years. In 2007 it was 14%, more than two points higher than the national rate. Incomes have been rising fast too. Officials predict a 13% increase this year for rural residents, a sixth straight year of double-digit growth. Urban residents enjoyed a 24.5% increase in disposable income last year. Robbie Barnett of America's Columbia University says a new middle class has emerged in Lhasa in recent years. But, he says, this has made very little difference to what Tibetans think about politics.
In the old Tibetan quarter, many see the Han Chinese as the biggest beneficiaries of economic growth. Hans not only run most of the shops, but are moving into the Tibetan part of the city. Some Tibetans believe Han Chinese now make up around half of the city's population, with the railway bringing in ever more. (An official, however, points out that it is now also easier for Tibetans to reach Lhasa from distant parts of the plateau.) The economic statistics may be misleading. Incomes may have been growing fast on average, but in the countryside averages have been skewed by soaring demand in the rest of China for a type of traditional medicine known as caterpillar fungus. Tibetans in rural areas where this fungus grows have seen their incomes rocket (and fights have broken out among them over the division of fungus-producing land). In the cities, many complain about fast-rising prices of goods imported from other parts of China. Inflation is a big worry elsewhere in China too, but Tibetan bystanders watching the riots said that Chinese officials had promised the rail link would help bring prices down. The near-empty expanse of the Lhasa Economic and Technological Development Area suggests that officials are having trouble replicating in Tibet the manufacturing boom seen elsewhere in China. Tibetans also resent the hardline policies of Tibet's party chief, Zhang Qingli. Mr Zhang, who is a Han (China apparently does not yet trust Tibetans to hold this crucial post), was appointed in 2005 after a spell spent crushing separatism in Xinjiang. When he took charge, neglected rules banning students and the families of civil servants from taking part in religious activities began once more to be rigorously enforced. Mr Zhang also stepped up official invective against the Dalai Lama, who is widely revered. (Many Tibetans in Lhasa defiantly hang portraits of him in their homes, or did until the troops moved in.) Mr Zhang urged more “patriotic education” in monasteries, part of which involves denouncing the Dalai Lama. He banned the display of portraits of the Karmapa Lama, who fled to India in 1999 and enjoys a devoted following in Tibet. The Dalai Lama's roleChinese officials have been divided over whether greater contact with the Dalai Lama would help to pacify Tibet. Between 2002 and July last year Chinese officials held six rounds of talks with the Dalai Lama's representatives. Laurence Brahm, an American author who has tried to mediate, says the discussions reached a high point in 2005 when the Chinese appeared to recognise that the Dalai Lama was crucial to resolving Tibet's tensions. At one stage the Chinese even considered allowing the Dalai Lama to visit Wutai Mountain in Shanxi province as a confidence-building measure, but they got cold feet. Talks eventually foundered over China's refusal to accept the Dalai Lama's statements that all he wants is Tibet's autonomy within China. With troops on the streets, dialogue looks unlikely in the near future. China has accused the “Dalai Lama clique” of organising the riots. The Dalai Lama has denied involvement and has accused the Chinese of carrying out “cultural genocide” in his homeland. But he also needs to worry about the future of Han Chinese in Tibet. Many Han business people in Lhasa say they are planning to leave. Tourism from the interior, crucial to Lhasa's economy, is likely to be hard hit too. In the end, China may have a point with its obsession about economics. The recent boom has not won the loyalty or affection of Tibetans, but a slump would make them all the more angry. 立此存照從感恩出發,從謙卑做起 - 當選宣言2008/03/22 22:01 — 小馬哥 蕭副總統當選人、連榮譽主席、吳主席、王院長、各位副主席、競選總部同仁,以及在場及全國各地的民眾,大家好! 現在我向大家宣佈,剛才開票統計的結果,我與蕭萬長先生已經獲得台灣多數選民的支持,當選中華民國第十二任總統、副總統。 我要強調,這次選舉的結果,並不是馬蕭個人的勝利,也不是一個政黨的勝利,而是千千萬萬「希望求新、求變」台灣人民的勝利;也是反對台灣繼續鎖國,希望開放,與世界接軌的一大勝利。更是台灣民主政治又一次的勝利。 台灣人民的心聲,在這次選舉結果已經反映出來: ──人民希望政府清廉,不要貪腐: ──人民希望經濟繁榮,不要蕭條; ──人民希望政治安定,不要內鬥; ──人民希望族群和諧,不要撕裂; ──人民希望兩岸和平,不要戰爭; 過去一年,從南到北、上山下鄉的走訪過程中,我能體會,台灣人民的期待其實非常單純:他們希望能過好的生活、能有和諧的社會、能找回台灣人傳統的價值、能讓台灣在國際社會上得到肯定。台灣人民對於政治開始厭煩、對於藍綠吐不完的口水感到無奈;但人民卻共同希望王建民能勝投、詹詠然與莊佳容能奪冠、中華棒球隊能參加奧運、李安能拿奧斯卡。台灣人民並不奢求大富大貴,但卻也不希望過苦日子。台灣人民政治觀點也許不盡相同,甚至會彼此指責,但是大家都同意,目前原地踏步的情況一定要改變;再這樣內耗空轉下去,絕對不是辦法。台灣人民了解:「改變,我們才有希望。」 人民的心聲,我們都聽到了,國民黨必須完全執政,才能完全負責。我們執政後,一定優先拼經濟,改善人民的生活;並以最誠懇、最負責的態度,立即推動各項改革,落實選舉承諾,以回應人民的改變期待。 選舉結束是承擔的開始,我們深信唯有改革,才能帶來改變;唯有改變,台灣才有希望! 我也要向我的競選對手,謝長廷先生、蘇貞昌先生與他們的團隊和支持者致意,民進黨對台灣的民主曾做出不可磨滅的貢獻,現在與未來仍必然是台灣民主穩定發展,不可或缺的力量。這一段期間,我們雖然相互競爭、相互也有一些批評,但我們透過民主改革共同推動台灣向前進步,我們共同完成了台灣民主政治又一次的勝利。民主自由是台灣人共享最珍貴的資產,也是台灣價值最核心的部分,我一定會好好的珍惜它、堅決的捍衛它。 我在此承諾,我們執政後,一定虛心地努力爭取民進黨的合作,共同為人民的福祉、台灣的前途打拼。謝長廷先生選舉期間發表的若干政見,我們也會在未來納入施政考量。 我認為傾聽人民的聲音、尊重在野黨與媒體、不干預獨立機關運作,以及扶持社會中間力量,是推動陽光政治、維持多元制衡,必須要有的基礎,我保證上任後將身體力行,積極推動上述工作,促使台灣民主恢復常態,蓬勃發展。 選舉是一時的,人民的福祉、台灣的利益則是永久的。選舉或許有藍綠之分,但選完之後,執政就不能有「你我」之別,我們所有人都在一條船上,大家是命運共同體,必須攜手合作。 我向大家保證,執政後的國民黨,一定從感恩出發,從謙卑做起,努力傾聽人民的心聲,關心人民的苦樂,勇敢地反省檢討。只要是生活在這塊土地上的人民,都是我們的頭家,服務的對象。身為總統,我將以行動體現正直善良的台灣核心價值,讓台灣這個母親包容來自每一個地方的孩子,大家互相支援、共同生活,走向美好的未來。 政黨和平競爭、和平輪替,台灣人民將是永遠的勝利者 我要感謝支持我的民眾以及全體台灣人民,感謝你們給我一個為台灣打拼,帶領台灣大步向前行的機會,我和我的夥伴蕭萬長先生一定會兢兢業業,儘快把政見變成政策,再就政策編列預算,全力以赴,來兌現我們的競選諾言。 我也要感謝我的競選團隊以及後援會幹部,你們在全國各地,不論颳風下雨,四處拜票,才有今天成果,我深深感謝你們的投入與付出! 我也要感謝國民黨吳主席、連榮譽主席、王院長、吳秘書長以及所有支持我的人,十分感謝你們的鼓勵與支持! 我也要感謝警察朋友與維安人員的辛勞,這次選舉由於你們的盡責,使選舉能夠順利平安舉行。 最後,各位鄉親,選戰已經結束了,讓我們收起激情,從明天開始,為了台灣、為了下一代,大家不分彼此、不分黨派,一同攜手為台灣的未來,共同打拼! 台灣人民要過好日子、要融和、要找回傳統的台灣人價值、要改變。今天三月廿二日,人民用選票表達了期待。今天是選舉競爭的結束,明天則是團結融和的開始。我們對台灣充滿了希望,只因為台灣人民給我們希望。 讓我們再次高呼:台灣向前行,台灣一定贏! March 16 胡萝卜加大棒,一个也不能少大昭寺@2002年7月: 大昭寺@2008年3月: 看吧,这就是当年酥油灯摇曳,磕长头者五体匍匐的大昭寺广场。今日的藏民,为谁点燃了路边的出租车,为谁在街边店铺打砸抢?达赖同学要真是佛法精微的崇高宗教领袖,干嘛不效仿甘地来个非暴力不合作,而要纵容手下小弟煽动民族仇恨,焚烧出租车抢劫商店以暴力相挟?做了还不敢承认,还说别人乱喊捉贼. . .既要做婊子又要立牌坊,还不如拉登够胆色。 别扯什么民主与专制的幌子,藏独少壮派想趁早争夺统治权而已——免得等老达赖挂掉后群龙无首,自己在内讧中销声匿迹。要是把西藏交给藏独势力,又能怎样?真能给西藏带来任何好处?换一群政教合一高坐庙堂的老爷罢了。 没啥好说的,2008多事之秋,拉萨河不相信眼泪,台湾海峡不相信眼泪,恐怖分子对奥运场馆的生化袭击计划也不相信眼泪。达尔富尔的事更是一样,无非石油二字。要是沙特打内战也打成百万人流离失所,看丫的美国怎么办。这样的事儿,该强硬就要强硬,胡萝卜加大棒,一个也不能少。 March 01 从业FMCG,我们得到什么及不能得到什么?(zz)作者:顾迅 日期:2007-11-10某天顾老湿重温了brad pitt的电影《Fight Club》,感慨中把MSN改成“fight in the fucking club”(如果你不明白意思请看电影3遍),那混迹于洋酒圈的Bona在网上瞧见了,大为振奋冲上来问道:“老顾,good! good! Pls do tell me, where is the fucking club?”,为了不令浪人老友失望,我赶紧改成“fight in the fucking FMCG club”;过一会MSN朋友打听,“Mr. Gu, 请问FMCG俱乐部在哪?干嘛的?收会员费么?”,我答道:“那是伐木长工的中文缩写,一群苦力挽起袖子喝啤酒的馆子,就收点酒钱,够fucking- off的”……终于有一个同行朋友来问道,“哥们啊,莫非最近工作不顺?心情不佳?”,无论是否实情,总算暖了我一点心,呵呵。
某农贸市场小店门前,各种牌子的洗衣粉堆放在一起,这就是典型的FMCG主战场(摄于广东茂名) 常常有年轻的朋友问我:“如何才能进入FMCG?”,我窃以为这不是一个问题,因为这个行业没有门槛也没多少技术含量,而且它最贴近我们的日常生活——这也是为何FMCG略有一点吸引人的地方,连没牙的老太太和蹦跳的小学生都可以发表一些见解呢!更何况提问者,大多手持MBA或Master文凭,或者是海龟俱乐部成员,起点可比我们这些土人高出许多,要进入FMCG他们一点难度都没有。 [本日志由 顾迅 于 2007-11-14 10:11 AM 编辑] |
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