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The Potala Palace: Remembering to Forget inContemporary TibetClare Harris aa University of OxfordPublished online: 23 Apr 2013.
To cite this article: Clare Harris (2013) The Potala Palace: Remembering to Forget in Contemporary Tibet, South AsianStudies, 29:1, 61-75, DOI: 10.1080/02666030.2013.772816
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The Potala Palace: Remembering to Forget inContemporary TibetClare Harris*University of Oxford
Apart from the Taj Mahal, few historic structures can compete with the iconic potencyof the Potala Palace in Lhasa. Bothof these seventeenth-century edifices appear to fulfil one of the basic requirements for a monument: they are dedicated tothe commemoration of an absent person. But whereas the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan deliberately set out to create aravishing mausoleum for his wife, the Potala has only become a monument since 1959, when the fourteenth Dalai Lamafled Tibet and sought exile in India. As the supreme embodiment of the Tibetan cause travelling the world in its pursuit,the Dalai Lama’s mobility contrasts greatly with the stubborn immovabilityof his palace: a place which for many Tibetansstands as a painful memorial to his absence from the ‘homeland’. This essay considers the transformation of the Potalafrom its previous role as the residence of the Dalai Lamas, the institutional heart of Tibetan Buddhism, and theadministrative base of the Tibetan government into an empty shell that is now emphatically the property of thePeople’s Republic of China. I argue that in contemporary Tibet monumentalisation has less to do with eliciting memorythan with a state-led agenda of organised forgetting.
Keywords: Potala Palace; Tibet; monuments; memory
Ironically, there is more than a hint of nostalgia in theworks of some of the major theorists of monuments andmemory. Pierre Nora, for example, makes a distinctionbetween the ‘real memory’ that is ‘retained as the secret ofthe so-called primitive or archaic societies’ and historywherein ‘our hopelessly forgetful modern societies, pro-pelled bychange, organize the past’.1Wemay also detect atrace of Eurocentrism in Nora’s project analysing lieux demémoire (sites ofmemory) in twentieth-century France, inwhich he argued that history had replaced ‘collectivelyremembered values’ and that only temporally or physi-cally distant others – ‘peasants’ and ‘primitives’ – wereable to perpetuate them. For Nora, the accelerated pace ofdevelopment in Europe and the rise of historical con-sciousness threatened the existence of authentic recollec-tions. Perhaps he hoped that in some far corner of theworld this was not the case. So let me begin by sayingthat Tibetans have not retained an unadulterated ‘primi-tive’ consciousness or an unbroken lineage of memories.They too have experienced dramatic change. The mid-twentieth century in particular marked a moment of rup-ture that drastically dislodged their customary memorypractices. After 1950, when China declared that it hadliberated Tibet from feudal serfdom and the tyranny ofreligion (in the form of Tibetan Buddhism), and followingthe departure of the fourteenth Dalai Lama (TenzinGyatso) from his home – the Potala Palace – in Lhasa in1959, Tibetans have also been forced to become witnesses
to history and to think about the past in very specific ways(Figure 1). Most importantly, history has been contestedand various attempts to control the understanding of whatwent before 1950 have been made, both by the Chinesegovernment and the Dalai Lama’s ‘government in exile’ inIndia. In the Tibetan-speaking regions of the People’sRepublic of China (PRC) and in the Tibetan exile commu-nity in India, the creation of structures designed to elicit‘memories’ (or what wemight call monuments) has been acrucial component in the attempt to determine the readingof history whilst simultaneously erasing some memoriesand inventing others.2
Before proceeding to look at one rather extraordinaryexample of this, let us just pause to consider what amonument might be? The monument is created in orderto defy time: it is constructed from durable materials andfirmly embedded in a particular location with everyexpectation that it will not move from there. In its stasis,it represents the polar opposite of mobility. But themonument is also part of a process: it is designed andbuilt, it may be deliberately modified or subject to acci-dental accretions and, most importantly, it has a dynamicrelationship with those who make, view, and use it.Although a monument may be crafted with a distinctagenda in mind and intended to act as a material supportaround which human agency and memories can cohere,in reality the ‘meaning’ of monuments cannot readily berestricted. Monuments are therefore often sites for the
South Asian Studies, 2013Vol. 29, No. 1, 61–75, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/02666030.2013.772816
*Email: [email protected]
© 2013 The British Association for South Asian Studies
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1. The Potala Palace, Lhasa, at night, 2007. Author's photograph.
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articulation of divergent and even dissenting voices orthe target for politicised acts of intervention. Thisdynamic, performative environment, in which a solidstructure acts as a nexus for interaction and ‘meaning-making’, raises the questions: how does a buildingbecome a monument and who controls the process? Forexample, of the monuments identified by the UnitedNations Educational, Scientific, and CulturalOrganisation (UNESCO) for their World Heritage list,relatively few were originally classified as such, and themajority have only been recognised retrospectivelythrough a process of reassignment and reinterpretation.Thus (to bowdlerise Shakespeare), some are born asmonuments, others achieve monumental status, andsome have monumentalisation thrust upon them forvery specific reasons. In India, the Taj Mahal could becited as the perfect example of the first of these categoriessince it was created as a monument to Shah Jahan’sdeceased wife Mumtaz. (Confirming one of the OxfordEnglish Dictionary’s basic definitions of a monument: ‘astatue or structure placed over the grave in memoryof thedead’.) The reconfiguration of the abandoned palaces,fortresses, and temples of South Asia into monumentsunder the auspices of the Archaeological Survey
Department of the British Imperial government in thenineteenth century could be said to illustrate how monu-mental status can be achieved when assigned by an out-side observer. The concept of reclassifying buildings asdefunct (in terms of their original usage) and reinventingthem as sites of contemplation, memory, and aestheticregard has also been at work since the foundation of thePeople’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1949, but I willsuggest that the relatively recent conversion of thePotala Palace (in the Tibet Autonomous Region of thePRC) from a centre of religious and political authorityinto a monument is an example of my last category. Thisis a structure that has had monumentalisation thrust uponit and a concerted attempt has been made to control thememory and meaning it can elicit (Figure 2).
This essay considers the transformation of the multi-storied, thousand-chambered palace of Potala from itsprevious role as the residence of the Dalai Lamas andthe institutional heart of Tibetan Buddhism into a hollowshell that can be emphatically claimed as the property ofthe Chinese government and in which its monumentali-sation denies the possibility of return to its rightfulowner, the fourteenth Dalai Lama. It is about the pro-cesses that converted a living building of exceptional
2. The Potala Palace, Lhasa, by day 2007. Author’s photograph.
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beauty and cultural significance to Tibetans into anempty edifice principally designed for the viewing plea-sure of others. In order to examine the techniques used toachieve this end, it is divided into four sections: the body,the relic, the view, and the new narratives of spectacle.
The body
At the centre of Beijing lies the bodyof the founder of thePeople’s Republic of China, Mao Zedong. Housed in agrand tomb in the middle of Tiananmen Square, Mao’sembalmed corpse acts as a memorial to his role in creat-ing the nation. It was inserted into an existing architec-tonics of power with the Great Hall of the People on oneside (representing the governance of the PRC) and theMuseum of Revolutionary History (representing theevents that created the nation) on the other (Figure 3).AsWu Hung explains in Remaking Beijing, following thecreation of the PRC Tiananmen was conceived as a mas-sive open space to be filled by ceremonies, militaryparades, and public performances of national unity. It
originally only contained one large secular shrine, theMonument to the People’s Heroes that Mao himself hadcommissioned in 1949.3 But on his death in 1976 hissuccessors added a mausoleum dedicated to the Fatherof Communism in China: they sought to ensure that hisbody, encased in a crystal coffin, would rest at the centreof the capital, the nation, and the conception of China thatwould be fixed in the minds of its citizens in perpetuity.Today, at the other end of the People’s Republic, in whatwas once the capital of Tibet, Lhasa, is a building that isfundamentally empty. Its contents have been evacuated,its functionality as the headquarters of the Tibetan gov-ernment and the Geluk school of Tibetan Buddhism hasbeen excised, and its principal occupant, the latest in aline of incarnations who had inhabited the building since1649, departed in 1959 in the aftermath of a failed upris-ing by Tibetans against Chinese encroachments into theirterritory.4 He has not returned since and seems unlikelyto do so while relations between Beijing and the exiledTibetan government remain distinctly unfriendly. As aresult, the fourteenth Dalai Lama has become the world’smost famous refugee, operating from his base in thereplicated homeland in the Himalayan foothills of Indiaand travelling the globe as an ambassador for the Tibetancause and a religious leader to Tibetans and the manynon-Tibetan followers of Tibetan Buddhism. If his bodyis fundamentally homeless, his image is similarly noma-dic: circulating in the form of ‘photo-icons’ everywhereexcept the Tibetan regions of the PRC where it has beenofficially banned for several decades (Figure 4).5 Hiserstwhile home, the Potala Palace, is equally wellknown (and is also constantly reproduced photographi-cally), but the palace’s fixity contrasts greatly with theitinerant life of the fourteenth Dalai Lama. As PeterBishop has noted: ‘Each signifies the other’s absence:the Potala’s traditional monumentality emphasizing theDalai Lama’smodernity and elusiveness; the Dalai Lama’splaceless mobility signifying the Potala’s immovablesense of place.’6
It is precisely the absence of the Dalai Lama’s body Iargue that has allowed his palace to be reconfigured as amonument according to the classification systems of boththe Chinese government and UNESCO. If Mao’s mauso-leum is located at the core of the People’s Republic it isbecause he is to be remembered by all citizens of China,whereas the Potala Palace is designed to do the opposite:to erase memories of the Dalai Lama and a Tibet runaccording to the principles and practices of TibetanBuddhism that had existed for more than thirteen hun-dred years until Maoism excised them. The Chinesegovernment has particularly set out to foster this kindof amnesia among Tibetans and to replace the pre-1959history of the Potala with a new narrative. (This is part ofa wider project instigated during the ‘DemocraticReform’ period – 1959–1976 – in which the Chinese
3. Mao's Tomb and the Monument to the People's Heroes,Tiananmen Square, Beijing, 2009. Author's photograph
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state aimed to fast forward Tibetans through the stages ofCommunist cultural evolution, transferring them from acondition of feudal ‘primitivity’ into the advanced levelof Maoist modernity.) In order to do this, the Potala hasbecome not just a monument but also a museum, a touristdestination, and a kind of ideological theme park. Allthese formats are designed to override the significanceof the Potala for Tibetans as a mausoleum in which thebodies of previous Dalai Lamas are enshrined, and towhich the mortal remains of the current Dalai Lamashould be returned if his reincarnatory lineage is not tobe permanently broken.7 For Buddhists, the bodily relics(Tibetan: lus, sku, ro, or ring bsrel) of enlightened beings(most especially of the Buddha himself) are preserved inmonuments and worshipped because they signify theongoing presence and power of the deceased. Theabsence of the fourteenth Dalai Lama’s body at thePotala – either in life or in death – therefore creates apoignant vacuum at the heart of the imagined Tibetannation. It is no surprise then that the Chinese state has setout to replace Tibetan ideas about monuments with theirown definitions.
The relic
In order to eradicate the potency of the Potala forTibetans fully, the Chinese government has graduallyremoved its contents and reframed them as ‘relics’ in aMaoist materialist sense. Approaching Tibet in colonial-ist mode since its ‘Peaceful Liberation’ in 1950, theyhave sought to assert their ownership of the place theycall ‘The Western Treasure House’ (Xizang in Mandarin)by also controlling its artefactual heritage. In 1961, onlytwo years after the Dalai Lama had left Lhasa, the gov-ernment granted his palace State Protection as a monu-ment. It therefore survived the Cultural Revolution(1966–1976) largely intact. However, thousands ofother Tibetan monasteries and shrines (including themost sacred temple in Tibet, the Lhasa Jo Khang) wereeither looted or reduced to rubble by the Red Guards ofthe People’s Liberation Army during this period.Although some Tibetan accounts suggest that the goldbullion and other reserves of the Tibetan mint stored atthe Potala Palace were pillaged during the CulturalRevolution to fill the coffers of the national exchequer,
4. ATibetan ‘photo icon’showing the fourteenth Dalai Lama with monuments commemorating the life and death of the Buddha in India.Photographic print purchased in India by the author. Creator unknown.
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many of its other treasures had at least remained in placeuntil the mid 1980s.8 It was only then that the Departmentof Cultural Relics (specifically the Lhasa branch of thenational Bureau of Cultural Relics) began to documentthe contents of the Potala and to prepare them forremoval to a more appropriate institution: a museum.At this juncture, a degree of freedom in terms of religiouspractice had been returned to Tibetans (following thesevere restrictions of the 1960s and 70s) and some ofthe monasteries damaged during the Cultural Revolutionwere being reconstructed. This was accompanied in 1985by the opening of Tibet for foreign and domestic touristsin which a vision of a traditionalist Tibet was required.Key buildings (especially the Potala) needed to be pre-served to conform to their expectations of traditionalismand ‘Shangri-La’ inspired exotica. In addition, museumsand monuments began to be constructed to facilitate atouristic encounter with Tibet. Once Deng Xiaoping andother economic liberalisers rose to power in the 1980s,the move towards capitalism was accompanied by arenewed emphasis on patriotism. The ChineseCommunist Party based its claims to legitimacy on itsguardianship of China’s long and glorious heritage and itssteadfast resistance to foreign encroachments of allkinds. New museums were therefore created throughoutChina to embellish these points and encapsulate anethno-cultural definition of national identity, in whichthe minorities (minzu in Chinese) were (in theory) hap-pily incorporated. In national museums and theme parks,‘minorities’ like the Tibetans, Mongolians, and Hui weredepicted as specimens of unchanging traditionalism:their ethnicity and culture configured as a raw material
that needed to be ‘shaped and moulded for their ownbenefit by the “advanced” Han’.9 However, while HanChinese were gazing upon ethnologised and exoticisingrepresentations of their ‘minority’ neighbours, membersof those purportedly inferior communities were encour-aged to visit other kinds of museums devised as exten-sions of patriotic education campaigns and specificallyintended to disseminate the national narrative to thosethought to be most in need of learning it (Figure 5).Within this project, Tibetans were to be trained to lookupon their material heritage as the outdated relics ofreligion and in a secular, Communist mode.
Between 1989 and 1999, when such policies pre-vailed in Tibetan areas of China, the contents of thePotala were designated as ‘Cultural Relics’ by theChinese state and prepared for transfer to a new building.The emptying of the Potala was designed to ensure that itwould be seen as defunct and de-sacralised in the eyes ofTibetans and the objects that had previously granted itpower would be transferred to the neutralizing space of amuseum.When it opened in 1999, the Tibet Museum washeralded as an institution devoted to the preservation ofTibet’s material heritage. The aim was to demonstrate theimportance the Chinese state placed on protecting thislegacy and to thereby imply that its role in the region waspaternalistic and benign. It seems likely that thisapproach was also intended to counteract Westernreports about looting and theft in Tibet since theChinese assumed power in 1950. For example,American historian Warren Smith describes how the‘Three Pillars of Feudalism’ were targeted during the‘Democratic Reform’ period. At this time the Tibetan
5. Display of Tibetan ‘folk culture’ at the Anti-Imperialist Museum, Gyantse, 2007. Author’s photograph.
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government, the aristocracy, and the religious establish-ment had their property confiscated in preparation forcollectivisation and the creation of a truly CommunistTibet. He states that:
Once the monasteries were emptied of their monk popu-lation, Chinese art experts and metallurgists made asystematic survey of the contents of each monastery.[. . .] Over a period of several years almost all theTibetan monasteries were emptied of their contents.10
This version of events is, of course, disputed in offi-cial circles in the People’s Republic. A rather differentreading of history is provided in a report on the‘Protection of Tibetan Relics Over the Past FourDecades’, which claims that the PRC government hadconsistently ‘attached great importance to the protectionof cultural relics in Tibet’.11 It announces that as early as1959 (the year of the fourteenth Dalai Lama’s departure)the Central government had assigned work units to con-urbations like Lhasa and Shigatse to conduct ‘on the spot’investigations of their important architectural sites. By1961 nine Tibetan buildings (including the Potala) hadgained state-level protection. Just before the onset of theCultural Revolution in 1965, the government of the TibetAutonomous Region (as the central Tibetan provinces ofU-Tsang are now called in the PRC) set up its ownCultural Relics Administration Committee and added afurther eleven historic sites to the protected list. Thereport also trumpets the results of archaeological surveysconducted in Tibet in the 1980s and early 1990s and thenumber of objects preserved in museums thereafter.However, although it declares that seventeen hundred
sites were identified across the Tibetan-speaking regionsof China and that thousands of ‘cultural remains’ wereunearthed, only thirty thousand objects were sent to behoused in the Tibet Museum and, of those, a mere twelvehundred are exhibited there today.
The displays at the TibetMuseummake the agenda ofthe government’s project overt (Figure 6). Text panelsexplain that the objects gathered by the Cultural RelicsDepartment are, like the territory of Tibet itself, theinalienable possessions of China. In addition, the mostglamorous objects that appear in the museum were notunearthed from remote archaeological sites but simplytransferred from the Potala Palace. In their new homethey have been re-classified according to Chinese cura-torial principles, so that a coral mask worn during theperformance of chams (monastic dance in Tibetan) in thecourtyard of the Potala becomes an ethnographic speci-men and the gold-encrusted saddle belonging to the thir-teenth Dalai Lama is presented as a mere object of utilityor worse.When ‘Treasures from the Roof of theWorld’, atouring exhibition prepared by staff from the TibetMuseum and the Department of Cultural Relics, arrivedin the United States in 2004, the personal possessions ofthe Dalai Lamas were labelled as objects associated withthe luxurious life of the Tibetan nobility.12 As the Tibetanaristocracy and religious hierarchy had been deridedsince the Cultural Revolution, the prestige items belong-ing to the Dalai Lamas were to be taken as evidence oftheir debauchery and decadence. But the overarchingtheme of the Tibet Museum is the classification of allthings associated with Tibet prior to 1950 as relics withno onward life or possibility of retrieval in positivememory formations among Tibetans. Across China,
6. The entrance to the Tibet Museum, Lhasa, 2007. Author’s photograph.
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antiquities are defined in relation to a hierarchy of‘Cultural Relics’, where they are listed and gradedaccording to their historical significance.13 TheMandarin term for relic – wenwu – can refer to the mortalremains of an individual (including revolutionary heroeslike Mao Zedong) as well as to the wider category of theremnants of the past. However, when translated intoEnglish, the frequency with which the term ‘relic’ occursin official Chinese documents about Tibet creates theunfortunate impression that it refers to a culture longdeceased. The display of Tibetan ‘relics’ at the TibetMuseum suggests that their religious function has beendeactivated by their insertion in a secular institution andthat they must perform another role within a set of closeddiscourses dictated by the state. Most importantly, thetreasures of the Potala were emphatically disconnectedfrom their historic context. As one elderly Tibetan resi-dent of Lhasa told me in 2007, the transfer of the contentsof the Potala to the TibetMuseumwould mean that futuregenerations would have no knowledge of what they hadbeen used for in the past and by whom. He remarked thatwhen his generation (born prior to 1950) had died out, noone would remember that the Potala had ever been any-thing other than just a setting for pageants of patrioticpride, a tourist destination, and an empty shell to beadmired from the outside.
The view
By the time UNESCO granted the Potala Palace WorldHeritage status in 1994 its thousand-plus chambers werealmost entirely bare. Like many other religious buildingsin Lhasa, much of its innards had been ripped out, leavingonly the dramatic façade of the palace to suggestTibetanness in a city that had otherwise been dramati-cally Sinicised. Lhasa had become a place designed forthe consumption of outsiders (domestic and foreign tour-ists) and many of those encountering the Potala for thefirst time would concentrate on a visual engagement withits exterior rather than its interior. Since the committeethat recommended it be given ‘World Heritage’status hadbeen granted unique access to some of the items that weresoon to grace the Tibet Museum, their report mentionedmurals, thangka paintings, and sculpture as among itsmost impressive treasures. However, their main reasonfor defining the Potala as a ‘world class’monument wasthat it apparently represented an ‘exceptional aestheticachievement’.14 The UNESCO appraisers commendedthe building as an outstanding example of ‘theocratic’architecture and announced that it fulfilled Criterion 1for World Heritage listing ‘for its design, for its decora-tion, and for its harmonious setting within a dramaticlandscape’.15 With its emphasis on the Potala’s appear-ance from the outside, this description has a familiar ring
to it arising from the long established approach to theviewing of architectural ruins, fragments, and other hol-low shells defined in theWest as monuments. UNESCO’sselection criteria combine a heady mix of post-Enlightenment empiricism (in the scientific identifica-tion of tangible remains) and nineteenth-centuryRomanticism (the cultivation of taste for ancient andoften crumbling edifices) within its Universalist aims.As stated earlier, the vast majority of the structures listedby UNESCO could only become monuments eitherbecause they were deliberately abandoned by their origi-nal occupants (for reasons of unsustainability, as was thecase at the Mughal city of Fatehpur Sikri) or because thepolitical authority of their owners – kings, emperors, andreligious leaders – had waned long before UNESCO wasfounded. The monumentalization of the Potala wasundoubtedly made possible due to the flight of theDalai Lama from Tibet but the UNESCO report scrupu-lously avoids any reference to his fate. Instead, it merelynotes that throughout Asia there is ‘no other example of atheocratic government of the type that endured for solong in Tibet’. The only comparable example they couldfind, in terms of scale and ‘artistic wealth’, was the HolySee in Rome, as it represented ‘another of the world’sgreat religions’.16 In 1990 certain sections of theVatican had been included in the UNESCO listing forthat city, but they were classified as ‘enjoying extraterri-torial rights’. It seems that no such recognition of terri-torial or property rights was possible for the Tibetanhome of the fourteenth Dalai Lama, for unlike the Pope,the Dalai Lama was no longer in residence. The DalaiLama was therefore treated as an absentee landlord whohad rescinded his ownership of the Potala and relin-quished its contents to the Chinese state. It is for reasonssuch as these that Robert Shepherd has accusedUNESCO of being ‘a complicit partner in the reworkingof culture as a development resource in contemporaryChina, particularly in “minority” areas’.17
It certainly seems that the authorities in Lhasa had(literally) been paving the way for the Potala to receivethe kind of aestheticised regard that it had alreadyinspired in the UNESCO committee, but this time foranother kind of visitor. The city was to be reshaped tocreate a tourist destination. Prior to the 1950s, the orien-tation of Lhasa was determined by the veneration of keyreligious sites and reflected the organic conception ofspace favoured by Tibetans. Defined by four circumam-bulation routes (the Lingkhor, Tsekhor, Barkhor, andNangkhor), its sacred geometry was, in theory, circularrather than square or rectangular. In practice theLingkhor outer circuit (still reinscribed performativelyto this day by pilgrims and prostrating local residents)follows a somewhat irregular path embracing the mostrevered structures of Tibetan Buddhism. It therebyencompasses the most sacred object in Tibet – the statue
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of Shakyamuni Buddha in the centre of the Jo Khang and(in the past or in the imagination) the most divine livingbeing – the Dalai Lama in the Potala Palace. However, inthe 1990s Lhasa was remodelled in the style of otherChinese cities and a rectilinear spatial scheme was super-imposed upon it. Wide thoroughfares were driventhrough the urban sprawl (Figure 7). New types of com-munal areas of a size and shape utterly alien to Tibetanculture and with the trappings of municipal playgroundswere introduced. These were linked together by a grid ofstreets expressing Chinese concepts of town planningand orientation as applied to a ‘minority’ city. Theolder roads were re-titled, so that the Dekyi Shar Lam(Tibetan) or Happy East Road was renamed BeijingLu (Mandarin) after the most important location lyingthousands of miles to the East. Other connections tothe national capital are less overt and only become appar-ent when the ideological archaeology of the Lhasa’snew layout is unearthed. Two new office buildings – forthe Communist Party Committee and the People’sGovernment of the Tibet Autonomous Region – seemto have been positioned to represent the administrativeand political heart of city. In a place where surveillance is
a quotidian reality, those buildings lie at the mid point ofan axis of power and vision in which the main monu-ments of Lhasa are positioned: the Potala Palace to thenorth, the Jo Khang to the east, and the Tibet Museumlocated in the west of the city. (The Kyi Chu River marksthe southern cardinal point in this axis.) In this alignment,the most ancient religious building in Lhasa (the JoKhang) is drawn into direct opposition to the post-modernist shrine that contains Tibet’s ‘cultural relics’.The positioning of these buildings, roads, and publicspaces echoes the model of Beijing, and is aimed atensuring that the nation can be imagined in the sameway at its centre as at its peripheries. They are alsodesigned to facilitate viewing.
Once it had been listed by UNESCO and its religio-political potency had effectively been defused by mon-umentalisation, the Potala was destined to take anincreasingly prominent position within the national ima-ginary in China. In 1999 it became part of the iconogra-phy of the state when it appeared on the reverse of thefifty Yuan banknote. Since then, with Mao on theobverse, the Potala has literally been in the back pocketof all citizens of the PRC. It has also provided a suitably
7. Shoppers and tourists on Yuthok Avenue with the golden roofs of the Jo Khang temple at the end of the street, Lhasa, 2007. Author’sphotograph.
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Tibetanised stage for all kinds of patriotic ceremonies inLhasa. But in order to create a space large enough toaccommodate a hundred thousand people at its base,homes and businesses in the hamlet of Shol weredestroyed and replaced by a vast square.18 Now knownas Potala Plaza, this area has some of the atmosphere of amilitary parade ground. With the national flag flying atits centre it also has the feel of a mini-Tiananmen and ittoo has been the location for sporadic acts of politicaldefiance, such as when Tashi Tsering climbed the flag-pole in 1999 in an attempt to remove what he saw as thesymbol of China’s arrogant claim to authority overTibet.19 In 2001 the Memorial to the ‘PeacefulLiberation’ of Tibet was erected opposite the palace inPotala Plaza (Figure 8). It consists of an abstract render-ing of Mount Everest accompanied by Socialist Realiststyle figures depicting Tibetans rising up against theirfeudal oppressors, and was clearly intended to emulateMao’s Monument to the People’s Heroes in Beijing, butthe sculpture has failed to become a place of remem-brance for Tibetans. Many turn their backs on it andprostrate before the Potala instead, while others describeit as a concrete insult or a Chinese nail piercing the bodypolitic of Tibet.
As the Tibetan writer Woeser has put it, in the dec-ades since the ‘Peaceful Liberation’ of Tibet the Potalahas represented the ‘soul of the nation’ even when ‘heav-ily painted with the colours of ideology’.20 More recentlyit has been the location for fashion shows, rock concerts,and sales promotions reinforcing the Chinese image ofTibet as a province newly enhanced by the spectacle ofconsumerism and providing the perfect setting for thelatest form of state ideology: a ‘soft propaganda’ which
emphasizes the idea of modernity for all, even Tibetans.In addition, the construction of the Potala Plaza created amuch greater physical distance between the palace and itsvisitors and making it far easier to photograph. ThePotala has therefore become a photographic backdropfor Chinese tourists who are pictured by itinerant cam-eramen donning Tibetan dress or adopting heroic poseswhile flexing their muscles and attempting martial artsmoves (Figure 9). Since the advent of photography, thephotographic studio has been a potent space for con-structing the self in relation to the ‘accessories’ of mod-ernity. Through the use of the backdrop, it has alsoenabled sitters to position themselves in very differentlocations from those they routinely inhabit. In twenty-first-century Lhasa it is the antithesis to modernity – thePotala – that has become the set for a stage where HanChinese can impersonate their seemingly exotic fellowcitizens.
Behind all this the palace of the Dalai Lamas appearsresilient and untroubled, as if it expects such posturing. Ithas been photographed from every conceivable angleand, since its nocturnal illumination in 2006, at alltimes of the day and night. In fact the Potala was firstphotographed by foreigners at the beginning of the twen-tieth century. Among those who did so was John ClaudeWhite, the deputy commissioner of a British militaryexpedition led by Francis Younghusband that enteredTibet in 1903. Along with his diplomatic duties, Whitewas the official mission photographer and made it hisbusiness to capture the Tibetan government’s stronghold– the Potala – visually.21 In the course of their march toLhasa, White became enamoured with the ‘impudentimpregnability’ of Tibetan buildings and photographed
8. Nocturnal view of the Monument to the ‘Peaceful Liberation’ of Tibet, Potala Plaza, Lhasa, 2007. Author’s photograph.
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their facades repeatedly, but he generally avoided theiroccupants.22 He blamed Tibetans for obscuring thebeauty of their environs with distracting mess. On arrivalin Lhasa he observed that: ‘A great wall surrounds theprecincts of the Po-ta-la and inside this wall are nothingbut miserably squalid buildings, with correspondinglydirty inhabitants – a most deplorable misuse of space,which should be converted into a lovely garden or park,and made into a fitting foreground for the wonderfulbuilding which towers above it.’23 White’s proposal toerase the homes and livelihoods at the base of the Potalaarose from a photographer’s desire to create optimalvisibility for his subject and a patent disgust at the phy-sical state of the Tibetan poor. A similar sentiment wasused to justify the demolition of the hamlet of Shol in1995. The Lhasa authorities claimed that it was an unsa-nitary and unsightly blot on the cityscape and relocatedits residents to a ‘modern’ suburb. There is also a stronglikelihood that Shol was destroyed in order to maximisethe pleasure of those who wished to photograph thePotala effectively. I suggest that a particular image pro-duced byone of White’s successors in the British colonialcivil service may have influenced the remodelling of thearea around the palace. In 1936 Frederick SpencerChapman discovered a view of the Potala that hedescribed as ‘sublime’ (Figure 10). (Prints of his photo-graph have been reproduced and sold around the worldever since, including in Lhasa). The Lhasa authoritieshave made some attempt to reinstate the scene he docu-mented by rebuilding the three Buddhist structures of thePargo Kaling (Western Gate) that had been destroyed inthe 1960s, planting willows and digging a boating lake on
the edge of Potala Plaza. However, it is not possible tostand in precisely the same position that Chapman tookhis photograph from, as the pinnacle of Chakpo ri (theiron hill) is now occupied by the Tibet Television towerand is a restricted area. Instead, the authorities haveprovided a purpose-built viewing platform just belowthe peak, from where the ‘perfect’ photograph of thePotala can be acquired (Figure 11). Its construction ispart of the grand scheme in which Lhasa has been shapedto facilitate particular ways of seeing the city and topropel visitors into state-sanctioned positions for con-suming its messages. They focus on the sublime exteriorsof Tibetan buildings (just as John Claude White andSpencer Chapman had done) because Lhasa has beenemptied and remodelled for the purpose.
The new narratives of spectacle
The emptying of the Potala Palace along with its conver-sion to a monument have been a cause of concern formany Tibetans. In 2007 inhabitants of Lhasa were bra-cing themselves for news of its total closure on thegrounds previously alluded to by the authorities: that itcould no longer sustain the weight of thousands of bodiestrampling its floors or the impact of breath, sweat, andother human traces on its fabric.24 Using the rhetoric ofconservation, the state was hinting that just as its objectswere best preserved in a museum, so the Potala would bebest protected if it became a completely vacant and inac-cessible monument. In the meantime, the Cultural RelicsBureau had been instructed to prepare an alternative
9. Chinese tourists posing for a photograph in front of the palace, Potala Plaza, Lhasa, 2007. Author’s photograph.
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option for the Tibetan residents of Lhasa. In June 2007 anew set of displays opened in the compound at the base ofthe Potala with the theme-park style title ‘Snow City’.Where the palace itself had been resolutely defined asredundant (in terms of its historic social, religious, andpolitical character), the buildings at its base were to beused to present the Tibetan past as repugnant.
Redeploying some of the extant service buildings of thefourteenth Dalai Lama’s era, its prison, mint, and offi-cials’ quarters, the curators reconstructed aspects of lifein pre-1950 Lhasa. Scenes depicting the abuse of ser-vants (dubbed ‘slaves’ or ‘serfs’) by their ‘feudal’ over-lords were enacted by life-size clay figures. A haggardwoman and her child cowered in the cellar of a high-
10. Frederick Spencer Chapman’s photograph of the Potala Palace, Lhasa, 1936. Courtesy of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University ofOxford. Accession number: 1998.131.305.1.
11. The Potala Palace viewing platform on Chakpori, Lhasa, 2007. Author’s photograph.
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ranking monk’s house while a text panel declared thatserfs were often accommodated under the householddrop-toilet. These displays revive a style of museumrepresentation first used in Lhasa at the end of theCultural Revolution in 1976 when ‘The Wrath of theSerfs’ exhibition was mounted at The Museum of theRevolution.25 For that highly theatrical exhibit morethan a hundred figures were sculpted in a SocialistRealist manner to portray the iniquities of the regime ofthe Dalai Lamas. The sense that artists, curators, and theirgovernment overseers were intent on reviving such stylesand discourse thirty years later was particularly con-firmed in Snow City at the ‘Residence of Pelshi’. There,illustrations from back issues of ‘China Reconstructs’and other propaganda publications of the CulturalRevolutionary era were mounted in light boxes and pur-ported to show the ‘flayed’skin of a child and the ampu-tated forearm of a ‘serf’ (Figure 12). These displaysvilifying the activities of the Dalai Lama and his govern-ment were evidently intended to prompt Tibetan viewersto despise and denounce the old Tibetan system and toplace it in unfavourable comparison to the advancespioneered by the Chinese in Tibet. Other sections soughtto remind Tibetans that modern amenities were amongthe shared benefits of Maoist modernity and that, prior to1950, material wealth was only enjoyed by a privilegedfew.26 In general the Snow City displays harked back tothe themes of the ‘Democratic Reform’ period and itsattacks on the ‘Three Pillars of Feudalism’. The quartersof Khensur Ngawang Tenzin were therefore ‘recoveredto reflect the luxurious life of old Tibetan monk’.27
Another house was filled with the evidence of a govern-ment official’s decadence: bottles of liqueurs, a large
foreign-made radio, and ornate, over-stuffed furnishings.It may seem extraordinary that such figures, though longdead, are still to be lambasted and that Tibetans areencouraged to view their forefathers in such a way, butSnow City is the museological equivalent of a tam dzing(Mandarin) or ‘struggle’ session. During the CulturalRevolution these mass public gatherings were introducedto Tibet and monks, aristocrats, and members of theTibetan government were forced to renounce their past,admit to their misdeeds and submit to being haranguedby large crowds of their fellow Tibetans. Today SnowCity takes this practice off the streets and contains itwithin the institutional parameters of a museum-stylespace. Thus safely interiorised and away from the gazeof the majority of foreign tourists, it seems that manyTibetans are willing to participate in this exercise inposthumous rejection. In the absence of alternativeaccounts, some Tibetans (and it is mainly Tibetans whovisit these displays) have therefore become active parti-cipants in the consumption of a state-decreed revulsion attheir own history.
However, the most popular attraction at Snow City isundoubtedly the recreation of the Potala Palace that isshown in digital high definition on a massive screen inthe largest of the renovated buildings. Beginning with anaerial sequence in which the viewer appears to fly overthe topography of the Lhasa valley, the film follows theconstruction of the Potala from its humble beginnings ina cave in the seventh century to the huge edifice it hadbecome by the seventeenth century. A brilliantly craftedanimation depicts the structure progressing stone bystone, timber by timber, and like the time-lapse photo-graphy so beloved by natural history documentarists, the
12. Tibetan visitors in the displays at the Pelshi Residence, Snow City, Lhasa, 2007. Author's photograph.
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palace appears to grow from seed to full-blown plant in amatter of minutes. (A voice-over relates how the actuallabour involved thousands of workers, the majority ofwhom are said to have come from China.) The overalleffect emphasises the miraculous – both in the making ofthe Potala and that of the film – although inevitably thecredit for each miracle is given to the Chinese. (Forexample, the architectural style of the Potala is assignedto the ‘Han’, with only some ‘contributions’ from‘Tibetans and other Minorities’.) The film continueswith a section describing the contemporary role of thePotala as an establishment dedicated to the preservationof ‘Cultural Relics’ (‘under the direction of Central gov-ernment’) along with scenes shot in the few rooms thatare accessible to visitors in the actual building. Thisraises the question of why such a virtual excursion isrequired, if the Potala itself is still open. The publicityfor ‘Snow City’ helpfully explains: ‘It’s used to shortentourists’stay in the palace during the tourism hot seasons.It also helps the customer service centre provide propertour routes for tourists. For elders and uncomfortabletourists, they can settle their wishes by watching thevideo without entering the Potala Palace.’28 Althoughdevised with these worthy objectives in mind, it seemsthat the sheer technical and aesthetic virtuosity of thisvirtual presentation of the palace may mean that somewill not bother to visit it at all. More worryingly, the digitalavatar of the Potala could ensure that, rather than having torenovate the purportedly ailing monument, the authoritieswill eventually be able to close it completely and directvisitors to the simulacrum instead. This maywell coincidewith the moment that many Tibetans dread: when thefourteenth Dalai Lama passes away and the control of hisreincarnatory lineage is assumed by Beijing, where hisreplacement will be selected according to the Chinesegovernment’s interpretation of Tibetan Buddhist proce-dures.29 Then the Potala Palace will no longer be thebuilding in which his next incarnation is determined norwill it be available to provide a mausoleum for TenzinGyatso’s remains. Instead the palace could become a tombin which the entire history of the institution of the DalaiLamas is sealed and ceased. It would merely be a sub-limely beautiful (and fundamentally hollow) monument toits obsolescence.
In the West the idea of the monument has been cele-brated as a device that allows its interlocutors to reclaimthe past imaginatively, to elicit positive ‘memories’, andto document history. In the Tibet Autonomous Region ofthe People’s Republic of China it has other purposes. Theconversion of the Potala Palace into a monument wasdevised as an exercise in ‘organised forgetting’ forTibetans and tourists alike.30 It aims to ensure that theDalai Lama is not remembered and that his possessionsare relegated to the status of ‘cultural relics’ preserved inthe TibetMuseum or travelling the world as metonyms of
China’s ownership of the ‘Western Treasure House’. Thedisplays at Snow City on the other hand cultivate thecorrect kind of ‘memories’ (as approved by the state)that Tibetans should embrace and enjoy in digital highdefinition. The thrill of this technological spectacle atSnow City is a particularly disturbing developmentwhen, as one young tour guide admitted as he struggledto outline the history of the Dalai Lamas’ palace, manyTibetans in Lhasa are simply ‘too young to remember’.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The research that underpins this essay was generouslyfunded by the British Academy (Senior ResearchFellowship scheme 2006–2007), the School ofAnthropology and Museum Ethnography (University ofOxford), and Magdalen College. My great thanks to theindividuals who assisted me in Lhasa but who cannot benamed in print. To ease the reading process for thoseunfamiliar with it, I have minimised the use of Wylietransliteration for Tibetan terms in this essay.
NOTES
PRC – People’s Republic of China1. P. Nora, ‘Between Memory and History: Les Lieux
de Mémoire’, Representations, 26 (1989),7–24 (p. 8).2. I explore the construction of museums and monu-
ments in both the Tibetan exile community in Indiaand the Tibet Autonomous Region of China atgreater length in: C. Harris, The Museum on theRoof of the World: Art, Politics and theRepresentation of Tibet (Chicago: University ofChicago Press, 2012).
3. Tiananmen was originally part of the Imperial citybut in the 1950s it was expanded on the instructionsof ChairmanMao in order to create the largest publicspace in the world and to accommodate over half amillion people. See H. Wu, Remaking Beijing:Tiananmen Square and the Creation of a PoliticalSpace (London: Reaktion Books, 2005).
4. The site of the current palace was used as a medita-tion retreat by the first Buddhist king of Tibet,Songtsen Gampo, in the seventh century. Its appear-ance today is due to the vision of the Fifth DalaiLama who commissioned the construction of a mas-sive building in the seventeenth century. It tookalmost fifty years to complete. The palace wasnamed after Mount Potala, the abode of the bodhi-sattva of compassion Chenrezig. For further histor-ical information see R. A. Stein, Tibetan Civilisation(London: Faber and Faber, 1972); D. Snellgrove andH. Richardson, A Cultural History of Tibet (Bostonand London: Shambhala, 1968; repr. 1995).
5. I discuss the creation and circulation of ‘photo icons’in C. Harris, ‘The Politics and Personhood of Tibetan
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Buddhist Icons’, in Beyond Aesthetics: Art and theTechnologies of Enchantment, ed. by C. Pinney andN. Thomas (London: Berg, 2001), pp.181–99.
6. P. Bishop, ‘Reading the Potala’, in Sacred Spacesand Powerful Places in Tibetan Culture: ACollection of Essays, ed. by T. Huber(Dharamsala: Library of Tibetan Works andArchives, 1999), pp. 367–88 (p. 381).
7. The Potala still contains the mummified bodies ofthe Fifth, Tenth, Twelfth, and Thirteenth DalaiLamas encased in large stupas and covered in goldand semi-precious stones.
8. As suggested by Tibetan poet and blogger Woeserin ‘Decline of the Potala Palace’, published inSeptember 2006. <http://www.tibetwrites.org/?Decline-of-the-Potala-Palace> [accessed 30December 2012].
9. E. Vickers, ‘Museums and Nationalism in Contem-porary China’, Compare: A Journal of ComparativeEducation, 37.3 (2007), 365–82 (p. 377).
10. W. Smith, commentary on ‘The Plunder of Tibet’sTreasures’, 2 August and 21 September 2005, RadioFree Asia archive.
11. C. Galsang, ‘The Constantly Developing Project ofTibetan Cultural Relics Protection Administration’,<http://www.Tibet.cn/English/zt/forum/..%5Cforum/200402004512153623.html> [accessed 2010].
12. The ‘Treasures from the Roof of the World’exhibition was shown in four museums in theUS in 2004–2005: The Bowers Museum ofCultural Art, the Houston Museum of NaturalScience, the Asian Art Museum (SanFrancisco), and the Rubin Museum in NewYork. My comments are based on notes takenwhen visiting the exhibition at the RubinMuseum in 2005.
13. For an account of cultural relics policy in China seeR. L. Thorp, ‘“Let the Past Serve the Present”: TheIdeological Claims of Cultural RelicsWork’, ChinaExchange News, 20.2 (1992), 16–19.
14. The report was compiled by the InternationalCouncil on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS). See‘World Heritage List: Lhasa’, ICOMOS report No.707, October 1994, p. 9.
15. The report also describes the Potala as the ‘theapogee of Tibetan architecture’ and as an ‘excep-tional symbol’ of secular and religious authority.See ibid.
16. Ibid. Comparisons between the Vatican and thePotala have been made in Western literature sincethe seventeenth century. See Bishop, ‘Reading thePotala’.
17. R. Shepherd, ‘UNESCO and the Politics of CulturalHeritage in Tibet’, The Journal of ContemporaryAsia, 36.2 ([n.d.]), 243–57 (p. 246).
18. See K. Saunders, ‘More Demolition of TraditionalTibetan Housing Planned in Lhasa’, 30 July 2003<http://www.tew.org/archived/lhasa.demolition.html> [accessed 30 December 2012].
19. For an article describing Tashi Tsering’s protest andpunishment see ‘Dalai Lama MastermindingSeparatist Activities’, The Indian Express, 23 October1999 <http://www.indianexpress.com/res/web/pIe/ie/daily/19991023/ige23003.html> [accessed 2010].
20. ‘Decline of the Potala Palace’.21. Younghusband signed a treaty with the
Tibetan government in the Potala Palace on 3August 1904. It granted the British access to Tibetfor trade.
22. J. C. White, Tibet and Lhasa (London: [n. pub.],1906), Plate 23 (caption text).
23. Ibid., Plates 30–40 (caption text).24. Several press reports mention the deleterious
effects of too many visitors at the Potala. See forexample ‘Potala Palace Caps Visiting Period’,Shanghai Daily, 11 July 2007 <http://en.Tibet.cn/newfeature/07zt_bdlxcwlz/index.htm> [accessed2010].
25. ‘The Wrath of the Serfs’ remained on display inLhasa until the early 1990s. It is described in moredetail in C. Harris, In the Image of Tibet: TibetanPainting after 1959 (London: Reaktion Books,1999), pp. 130–35.
26. In June 2000 the PRC government issued a WhitePaper on Tibetan Culture. Its foreword includes thisstatement about pre-1959 Tibet: ‘Throughout thisperiod, a handful of upper-class lamas and aristo-crats monopolised the means of production, cul-ture, and education. [. . .] The long reign of feudalserfdom under theocracy not only fettered thegrowth of productive forces in Tibet, but alsoresulted in a hermetically sealed and moribundtraditional Tibetan culture, including culturalrelics, historic sites, and sites for Buddhist worship.As for modern science, technology, culture, andeducation, they did not get a chance to develop atall.’ See <http://english.people.com.ca/features/tibetpaper/tivettc.html> [accessed 2010].
27. Text from the homepage of the ‘Online Exhibitionof Potala Palace Zhol City’, <http://en.tibet.cn/newfeature/07zt_bdlxcwlz/index.htm> [accessed2010].
28. Ibid.29. For an article on Chinese control of Tibetan
Buddhist reincarnations see J. Macartney,‘China Tells Living Buddhas to Obtain PermissionBefore They Reincarnate’, The Times, 4 August2007.
30. P. Connerton,HowSocieties Remember (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1989), p.14.
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