The Economist February 13th 2021 China 43(including Sonam Tsering, the herder near
Lhasa) have been moved in the past decade
to more modern housing in or near towns
and cities. Hundreds of thousands have
been admitted to vocational training cen-
tres set up by the government. But most
observers believe this has been far more
voluntary than in Xinjiang.
As in Xinjiang, however, sinicisation—
though officially limited to religious af-
fairs—involves a much broader effort to
make ethnic-minority residents feel they
belong to China. In schools, “patriotic edu-
cation” is emphasised. Mandarin has re-
placed Tibetan in most classes. Surveil-
lance has been stepped up. Networks of in-
formers relay information to the state;
smartphones are tapped. Just as Uyghurs
can no longer make pilgrimages to Mecca,
it has become almost impossible for Tibe-
tans to travel to India to attend religious
teachings given by the Dalai Lama, as many
did before Mr Xi took power in 2012.
Unlike Uyghurs, Tibetans can still keep
in touch with friends and relatives outside
China using WeChat, a social-media app,
without fear of arrest. But they are cau-
tious. Posting images online of the Dalai
Lama can be an imprisonable offence. In
December a 30-year-old herdsman, Lhun-
dup Dorjee, was sentenced to a year in pris-
on for posting a lunar new-year greeting
from the Dalai Lama on WeChat. The
charge was “splitting the nation”.
In December and January officials
seized the mobile phones of dozens or
hundreds of members of a WeChat group
of Tibetans in and from Xiahe, a monastery
town in Gansu province which borders on
Tibet, says a member of the group who
lives in exile. Participants had used the app
to discuss sensitive topics, such as the life
of the Dalai Lama and America’s passage in
December of a law calling for sanctions
against Chinese officials if they interfere in
the Dalai Lama’s reincarnation. In the
2000s Tibetans still kept images of the Da-
lai Lama in their homes. Now many display
photographs of Mr Xi as well as of Mao Ze-
dong and other former leaders of China
(see picture, previous page). These are
handed out by officials along with gifts of
rice, clothes or cash. Refusing the presents,
and the photos, may incur reprisals.
As in Xinjiang, the party is planning
ahead. “It seems these policies are aimed at
creating future Tibetans who won’t know
about the Dalai Lama as having any role in
Tibetan Buddhism except as an enemy,”
says Robbie Barnett, a scholar of Tibetan
culture. But there are still occasional signs
of resistance among the young. In January
Tenzin Nyima, a 19-year-old monk, died
from injuries apparently sustained while
in custody in a Tibetan area of Sichuan
province. He had been detained in August
for spreading news about his earlier arrest
for distributing leaflets and shouting slo-
gans calling for Tibet’s independence.
Officials fear that when the Dalai Lama
dies, distraught Tibetans may once again
stage big protests. The party would rather
not be accused of crushing acts of mourn-
ing—better to deter people from displaying
grief well beforehand by incessant waving
of an iron fist. At a convention in August of
officials involved in Tibet-related policy,
Mr Xi called on schools to teach “patriot-
ism” more thoroughly. The party, Mr Xi
said, should “plant the seeds of loving Chi-
na in the depths of the hearts of every teen-
ager”. It will be a long struggle. Online debateSuddenly, space for
free-thinkers
F
or moderate, open-minded critics of
Communist Party rule in China, who al-
so speak Mandarin, the past few days have
been heady ones. Across the global Chi-
nese diaspora, word has spread rapidly
that Clubhouse, an audio social-network-
ing app, is the place to be for unfettered,
calm debate about contentious topics re-
lating to China. People have been pouring
into its “rooms” to discuss everything from
the gulag in Xinjiang to the Tiananmen
Square protests of 1989. Some are residents
of mainland China, despite a hasty attempt
by censors to block them.
Why the rush of enthusiasm? One rea-
son is that Clubhouse, launched last April
by an American firm, is not subject to the
word-sniffing controls that stifle free
speech on social-media apps such as We-
Chat and Weibo. It is also largely free of thenationalist rants and pro-party cheerlead-
ing that often crowd out liberal voices on
such Chinese-language platforms. Rooms
are set up by users who then act as moder-
ators with the power to kick out the unruly
and rein in the long-winded. Membership
of Clubhouse is by invitation only: those
admitted may recruit others. This may put
a brake on access by trolls.
For users in China, this has been a deep
breath of fresh air. But there are probably
few who have enjoyed it. The Clubhouse
app is available only on iPhones, and not to
those with Apple ids registered in China.
Fang Kecheng of the Chinese University of
Hong Kong reckons no more than 50,000
Clubhouse members live on the mainland.
Since February 9th they have needed a vpn
in order to leap over the “great firewall” and
use the app. Also since that day, Chinese
mobile operators have blocked verification
codes sent by text message. Such measures
may be turning some mainlanders away.
But there is clearly pent-up demand. Be-
fore the great firewall began blocking Club-
house, people in China were paying up to
500 yuan ($78) to buy an invitation code
through Taobao, a retail platform.
Clubhouse has been a boon for people
belonging to China’s ethnic minorities,
and for residents of Hong Kong and Tai-
wan, whose views are rarely heard on the
mainland. Rayhan Asat, an ethnic Uyghur
who was born in Xinjiang and now lives in
America, has spent hours on Clubhouse in
rooms with up to 5,000 participants, most
of them non-Uyghur Chinese, sharing her
brother’s story. He is almost five years into
a 15-year sentence in China on what she
says is a trumped-up charge of inciting
ethnic hatred.
On Twitter Ms Asat is often bombarded
by hate messages from members of China’s
ethnic-Han majority. But on Clubhouse
she has received many supportive ones.
She thinks the use of audio encourages
more intimate discussion than exchanges
by text on other social-media platforms.
“People heard my voice, they heard my
pain,” she says. “They messaged me pri-
vately afterwards saying they believed me,
they silently supported me. I understand
they can’t speak publicly because they fear
the Chinese government will retaliate
against their family still in China.”
Even before the great firewall was rein-
forced, some members suggested self-cen-
soring in order to deter a government
clampdown on the app. But one young user
from the mainland pushed back. “We
should take advantage of this brief oppor-
tunity to be human, to be normal for once,
to talk about our feelings, to talk about
what’s going on and whatever else we
haven’t been allowed to say,” he said. Out-
side China, Mandarin speakers are still
flocking to Clubhouse. But free speech in
China appears as far away as ever. HONG KONG
Chinese speakers around the world
pour into Clubhouse for open debate