Towards Better (Territorial) Solutions for Displaced People: The Tibetan Model

Abstract

This article envisions alternatives for refugee camps, detention centres and precarious encampments by exploring the management of Tibetan refugee settlements, particularly in India. They have developed from encampments to unique settlements, forming a community some call the world’s most successful refugee community. In terms of existing alternative ideas to provide better placements for the displaced, these settlements share similarities with a vision of Refugia, which aims to increase refugees’ agency and end mass displacement through a network of autonomous places. The Tibetan model can predict some challenges and possibilities of Refugia and suggest improvements to the current refugee protection system.

Keywords:

• Displaced
• refugee camps
• Refugia
• Tibetan refugee settlements
• India

Introduction

Human and refugee rights organisations and refugees have reported unsatisfying, unhealthy and restrictive living conditions in official and unofficial refugee camps, detention centres and encampments alike (e.g., Agier, 2011; Altin & Minca, 2017; Human Rights Watch, 2018; Kandylis, 2018; van de Wiel et al., 2021) while Amnesty International (2022) describes the current refugee protection system as “broken” (para. 1). Many displaced people live in “quasi-carceral” centres or camps where they may face violence or become victims of trafficking and have significant difficulties supporting themselves (e.g., Minca, 2015, p. 31). We argue that the Tibetan refugee settlements provide a better alternative for displaced struggling with these conditions.

Therefore, we ask what can be learned from the Tibetan model, notably as applied in India, where most Tibetan settlements are located. The Tibetan refugee settlements in India have mainly developed outside the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) refugee protection system. It assisted the Tibetans for a few years in India in the 1960s, after the Government of India (GoI) provided asylum for the Tibetan leader, the 14th Dalai Lama, and his entourage who escaped the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) occupation of Tibet in 1959. However, it ceased assistance and operations in India after the PRC entered the United Nations (UN) in 1971 (Choedup, 2015, p. 93). Perhaps partly because the UNHCR’s system has become an essential part of the global “humanitarian landscape” (UNHCR 2014, p. 4), there has been limited examination of the Tibetan refugee settlement model, even among scholars.

The Tibetan refugee community in South Asia, where Tibetan refugee settlements are, has been publicly called the most successful refugee community on earth (e.g., Bernstorff & von Welch, 2003; Brouwer, 2020; Bruno, 2018; Choedon, 2018) and a “model refugee community” (von Fürer-Haimendorf, 1990, as cited in Norbu, 2001). According to McLagan (1996), “Tibetans have been unusually successful in reconstructing their society and institutions in exile” (p. 195). Therefore, it is important to explore how the Tibetan model could benefit others in settlements or camp-like conditions in a world where over 6.6 million people live in refugee camps or similar (UNHCR, 2021) and around 10 million are stateless like most Tibetans in South Asia. Moreover, approximately 110 million were forcibly displaced in mid-2023, of whom 36.4 million are considered refugees and 6.1 million are asylum seekers (UNHCR, 2001–2023a, 2021).

Interestingly, the Tibetan model presents similarities to Cohen and Van Hear’s vision of Refugia, introduced in the journal Planning Theory and Practice in 2017. Refugia would lease land for a transnational network of autonomous places, called Refugiums, within existing states, preferably close to displaced people’s areas of origin (Cohen & Van Hear 2017, 2020). Refugia is regarded as an outcome of a grand bargain – between richer states and emergent countries, countries neighbouring conflicts, and, crucially, refugees themselves, offering the displaced more agency than the current asylum and return policies (Van Hear, 2018, p. 177). This resonates with the Tibetan refugee settlements as, after escaping to India with his delegate, the 14th Dalai Lama bargained for asylum for the Tibetans. Nehru’s government allowed them to form refugee settlements, and the Central Tibetan Administration (CTA), formerly the Tibetan Government in Exile, has relatively free reign to govern them internally and assist Tibetan settlements hosted in Nepal and Bhutan, the most populous settlements after India (e.g., Samphel, 2009). The settlements also have democratic elections, a taxation system and a ‘refugee passport,’ which reflects what Cohen and Van Hear (2017, 2020) have planned for Refugia. Hence, the Tibetan model has the potential to predict the successes and failures of Refugia and other unapplied ideas alike.

Although Tibetans have applied many Refugia-like elements in practice, Cohen and Van Hear (2020) have ignored them when they discuss existing systems that resonate with Refugia, calling them “prefigured forms of Refugia” (p. 76). They include town parts or abandoned hotels inhabiting refugees, for example, managed by refugees and their supporters, which emerged in Greece after the so-called refugee crisis in 2015. They also discuss Kurdish Rojava, the Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam and the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) for Palestine Refugees, engaged in Palestinian camps and employing Palestinians. Some elements of the Palestinian camps resonate with the Tibetan settlements in Lebanon, Syria or Jordan. In Lebanon, for example, the camp committees manage the internal affairs of stateless Palestinians, who aspire to move back to a free homeland (El Masri, 2020; Hanafi, 2010). However, the Palestinian camps have not been planned bottom-up by them. The camp conditions are more unsafe, and there have been more violent conflicts. In some places, surveillance is strict, and the camps are surrounded by walls, unlike the Tibetan settlements (e.g., Chaaban et al., 2016; El Masri, 2020; UNHCR, 2021).

In addition to Refugia, there are other unfulfilled scholarly and non-scholarly “big ideas” (Crawley, 2018) or “territorially based solutions” (Bloch, 2020) offering the displaced safe spaces and more (economic) agency. These visions include buying or leasing land or creating an island for them (see Cohen & Van Hear, 2020, for an extensive review). Among these are an architectural vision of an artificial island, “Europe in Africa” (see www.europeinafrica.com) and Buzi’s (2020) Refugee Nation, potentially a separate refugee state, an island or location on land. Cohen and Van Hear (2020) consider Refugia more deterritorialised and Halsema’s Zatopia closest to their vision; refugees would govern Zatopia instead of the states or the UNHCR and receive assistance from the Global North.¹

Refugia and other “territorially based solutions” (Bloch, 2020) or “big ideas” (Crawley, 2018) have been criticised as top-down approaches because they are “developed in the global north with minimal or tokenistic input from refugees” (para. 12) who should not be pushed to separate Refugiums, letting “states off the hook” (para. 7). According to Bloch (2020) these solutions are introduced in rich states with too little engagement with the places that host the majority of the displaced. This does not apply to the Tibetan refugee settlements, as Tibetans have developed their settlements and ensured they function alongside the host states. They are an urban question in many cities but resemble rather areas such as Chinatowns than camps (for comparison, see Abourahme, 2020). We argue that the Tibetan model provides a better and more realistic basis for developing autonomous places, offering more agency for the displaced than the “big ideas” (Crawley, 2018) or “territorially based solutions” (Bloch, 2020) introduced so far. Moreover, the model rules out practices such as offshoring refugees like Australia (see Refugee Council of Australia, 2023) or as the UK plans to do by sending asylum seekers to Rwanda under the UK-Rwanda Migration and Economic Development Partnership, although the Supreme Court ruled it illegal in November 2023 (Collyer & Shahani, 2023; Walsh, 2022).

We agree with Bloch’s (2020) call for more scholarly engagement with the places where refugees live. Consequently, we base our contribution on the qualitative ethnographic fieldwork that one author of this paper conducted with Tibetans in Dharamshala, a Himalayan town in India, during her PhD study between 2009 and 2015 (Frilund, 2019). Her interviews with officials of the CTA and several Tibetan non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and institutions have informed this article. Subsequently, she visited the CTA’s embassy-like institutions McConnell (2009) calls CTA’s “quasi embassies” in Paris and London and conducted preliminary fieldwork in Greater Paris for her post-doctoral research. Unofficial Tibetan tent camps have regularly been formed and demolished there by the authorities for over a decade. We also base this article on the PhD study of the second author, living and working in Dharamsala and his practical expertise among the Tibetans in India (Wangdu, 2019, 2020). Both authors have volunteered or worked in Tibetan NGOs there (e.g., Frilund, 2015). They are familiar with several other Tibetan settlements, including the Tibetan settlements in Majnu Ka Tilla in Delhi and Boudhanath in Kathmandu.

Moreover, we base our article on scholarly writings on Tibetan diaspora settlements, particularly the work of the late Tibetan social scientist, Professor Dawa Norbu (2001), of refugee background himself. Norbu (2001) stated more than 20 years ago that the “Tibetan refugee model of rehabilitation and resettlement holds a general significance and wider implications for comparative analysis of refugee studies as such” (p. 22). He further discussed the potential positive implications of the Tibetan model for the lives of refugees in the Global South. These implications have not been systematically developed or discussed in this context subsequent to his writings, so we discuss them in this paper. However, several scholars have studied the Tibetan refugee community from other angles (e.g., Frilund, 2019; Choedup, 2015; Hess, 2009; McConnell, 2016, 2009; McGranahan, 2018; Phuntsok, 2020; Prost, 2006; Rolfe, 2008; Subba, 1990; Swank, 2011; Wangdu, 2019). Even though these studies reveal that Tibetan refugee settlements encounter challenges, they also demonstrate that they contain elements that could improve the living conditions of the displaced beyond the Tibetan context and offer more freedom and agency to govern their communities, as discussed in more detail in the following chapters.

Early Stages of the Tibetan Refugee Settlements and Their Placement

The specific geopolitical circumstances, i.e., what the diaspora Tibetans consider as PRC's occupation of Tibet and the sociocultural and political oppression that followed, gave rise to the current type of Tibetan diaspora. After the GoI provided asylum for the 14th Dalai Lama and his entourage in 1959, more than 80,000 Tibetans accompanied them during the following years, mainly to India.² However, a minority went to Nepal or Bhutan. India was seen as a good choice for the Tibetans to escape to as it was a neighbouring country, and for a Buddhist nation, India represents a country where Buddhism was born.

The fact that India has allowed all Tibetans in since the Dalai Lama escaped hinders its relationships with the PRC. They do not consider the Tibetans as refugees, a term that the diaspora Tibetans often use for themselves. Nepal, through which many Tibetans arrive in exile, illegally, from the perspective of the PRC, has not taken in Tibetans as refugees since the early 1990s, partly due to Chinese pressure (e.g., Dolma, 2019). India provides Tibetans with cultural and religious freedom, one reason why they leave Tibet and migrate to India. It also allows political freedom and freedom of expression but may restrict their political activities and demonstrations when high PRC officials visit India.

As McGranahan (2003) pinpoints, there are some similarities between how the PRC considers Tibet as an inherent part of China and Tibetans as potential separatists (see Yeh, 2013) and how India considers Kashmir as a part of India and Kashmiris as a threat; both areas are heavily militarised, for example. As the Tibetans do not claim a territory of their own in India, they have remained peaceful, and they share some Buddhist values; India treats the Tibetans differently from the Kashmiris. Tibetans answer to India’s generosity in giving them asylum by supporting India in its everlasting border disputes with the PRC, and the Indian army has a Tibetan section trained to guard its Himalayan borderlands (e.g., Coelho & Somayaji, 2021).

At the beginning of the Tibetan exile, India set up tent camps for them in Assam, West Bengal, Ladakh, Jammu, and Kashmir (Choedup, 2015, p. 80). Thousands were also located in the 95 makeshift tent camps scattered in Northern India, working as road constructors on roads built to protect India’s borderlands (Balasubramaniam & Gupta, 2021; Choedup, 2015). Many died in harsh conditions in camps because of diseases or catastrophes, such as landslides in the roadside camps. As the Dalai Lama worried about the situation, the GoI agreed to relocate the Tibetans to small business, agriculture or handicraft-based settlements around India (Balasubramaniam & Gupta, 2021). Hence, Tibetans were able to start managing their settlements internally, apply refugee-led initiatives and try to overcome the economic precarity present for the stateless refugees in the Global South.

These settlements became the cornerstones of the Tibetan refugee economy, particularly after the Tibetan Industrial Rehabilitation Cooperative (TIRC), which functioned in the 1960s and 1970s, collapsed due to insufficient capacity (Phuntsok, 2020). More business-oriented Dharamsala, among the biggest settlements, became the capital of the Tibetan diaspora as the GoI gave the CTA land to build its headquarters there, while the biggest and most significant agricultural settlements are in the current state of Karnataka (e.g., Choedup, 2015). The residence of the 14th Dalai Lama is also in Dharamsala, a Himalayan town which houses the offices of several other remarkable Tibetan institutions and organisations.

The Tibetan example cannot completely overturn Crawley’s (2018) fear that Refugia solutions would push the displaced into remote and unliveable territories, such as the uninhabited island in the Bay of Bengal offered to Rohingya Muslim asylum seekers by Bangladesh. Even the UNHCR-led systems have been unable to escape this placement trend (see Jansen, 2013). For example, Dharamsala’s Tibetan settlement in McLeod Ganj was set up in a remote place, destroyed mainly by an earthquake at the beginning of the 1900s. The British left the hill station, and the town began to truly develop after the Tibetans came at the beginning of the 1960s. Moreover, the land that the GoI gave them in the current state of Karnataka to form agricultural settlements was not preferred by the Indians because of malaria, and it was considered an unhostile wasteland (Balasubramaniam & Gupta, 2021). Now, both places host the most significant Tibetan refugee settlements, providing shelter and livelihoods for tens of thousands of Tibetans and attracting supporters.

Yet, the Tibetan settlements have not fully overcome geographically uneven development, a challenge which also concerns other areas in the Global South (e.g., Bebbington, 2004; Chambers, 2008). Most Tibetan settlements in India have been open to foreign funders and NGOs. Still, some are in places that the GoI has declared “restricted areas” for strategic reasons, including parts of Ladakh, Sikkim and Arunachal Pradesh, hindering their support (Norbu 2001, p. 21). In general, Norbu (2001, p. 21) considers aid distribution more uneven in Nepal than in India as some remote Tibetan settlements in northern parts are difficult for the NGOs to reach (see von Fürer-Haimendorf, 1990, as cited in Norbu, 2001). Nevertheless, Dennehy (2016) describes in The Diplomat how a remote Tibetan settlement in Nepal “strives for self-sufficiency,” although it cannot be reached by car (para. 11). They collectively manage a store and hotel with community space, have rotating working shifts, and the profits fund community insurance that can be used if someone becomes sick (Dennehy 2016, para 12). If there are more costly problems, such as damage to infrastructure, they receive support from the CTA. This resonates with Cohen and Van Hear (2020), who plan many communal activities for the Refugians. It is also an example of how funds can be used to benefit people in different locations in transnational refugee communities.

Refugia-Like Functions of the CTA and the Tibetan Refugee Settlements

According to Norbu (2001), one key to the relative success of the Tibetan refugee settlements in India is that many Tibetans who escaped during the first wave to India were leaders in the old Tibetan society and possessed the skills to coordinate and implement policies in their community (Norbu, 2001). Among the two most important missions of the 14th Dalai Lama has been to preserve Tibetan culture and democratise their governance, even though the old Tibetan society was not a democracy. India’s democracy and Western influences through supporters and donors directed the democratic formation of the CTA. However, the Tibetans were not enthusiastic about the idea at first and often objected to the idea that the Dalai Lama would give up his political leadership only (see McLagan, 1996). He officially stepped down from his role as the head of the CTA to be the religious leader of the most populous Tibetan Buddhist sect, the Gelug, in 2011.

Currently, the CTA’s ministries are democratically elected, led by a Sikyong (president), also elected by the Tibetans (CTA, 2021). As the Tibetan diaspora has expanded beyond South Asia, it is nowadays possible to vote globally. All Tibetan taxpayers over 18 can vote in the many voting locations worldwide. In the last elections 2021, Tibetans from 26 countries registered as voters of the Prime Minister, Sikyong, and members of the new parliament. Altogether, there were 55,683 registered voters from India and 24,014 abroad (CTA, 2020). The number was around the same ten years before when the other author of this study interviewed an official of the Dharamsala-based Tibetan Centre for Human Rights and Democracy just before the 2011 elections. He explained the most significant achievement of their organisation as follows:

I think we have been able to set some standards in the Tibetan exile community. Because you know like it is a Tibetan only organsation. And so we are trying to be self-sustaining. It is like a Tibetans rising their own voice and Tibetans running the show (Personal communication, 17th March, 2011).

Hence, Tibetans have established democratic organisations where people can have a voice. The democratic refugee governance and elections resonate with Cohen and Van Hear’s (2017) vision of Refugia – a transnational, autonomous state governed by an “assembly elected by Refugians” (p. 498).

The CTA is organised in different departments. The Home Department is one of the most important departments in managing the Tibetan refugee settlements in South Asia (CTA, 2021). It manages the administration of the 39 settlements across India and assists 12 Tibetan settlements in Nepal and seven in Bhutan. Samphel (2009) summarises its functions as follows:

The home department has representatives in all these settlements, all of whom function as the local administrative heads. These administrative heads are either elected locally or appointed by Dharamsala. They look after the day-to-day running of the settlements. All the settlements and those Tibetan communities, which are not organized into settlements, are served by schools, hospitals and clinics, co-operatives, courts to settle civil disputes (although criminal cases are handled by the local police of the host country), old-people’s homes, and monasteries. (p. 61)

The CTA’s functions have become increasingly transnational as the Tibetan diaspora has expanded outside South Asia. Although the Tibetans have not leased territories or settlements beyond South Asia, the CTA has “quasi embassies” in different continents. They assist Tibetans who have migrated out of South Asia, maintain international relations and promote Tibetan culture and politics. Tibetans are employed in running and managing all these functions, which helps them secure paid work. As McConnell (2009) argues, the Tibetan diaspora has become more “institutionally organised than any other socially networked diasporic community” (p. 343). All this resonates with Refugia, which is meant to be a “transnational or cross-national entity, a set of connections (mise en relation) between different sites developed through initiatives mainly taken by refugees and displaced people themselves, with some support from sympathizers” (Cohen & Van Hear, 2017, p. 497).

The Tibetan community also have other functions in common with Refugia, such as taxation. The Refugians would pay taxes to the Refugia polity and the states where their Refugiums would be located (Cohen & Van Hear 2017, 2020), just like the Tibetans pay tax for the CTA and their host states. The CTA collects a voluntary tax from the diaspora Tibetans in all settlements in India and abroad through a so-called Green Book – a symbol of the Tibetan diaspora’s allegiance to the CTA. The Green Book also has a political meaning as it symbolises the CTA as a legitimate representative of the Tibetan people. As the CTA (2023a) states, “in future, it will become a base for claiming Tibetan citizenship” (para. 4), i.e., when the Tibetans are able to return to Tibet.

Voluntary taxation began in India in 1972 (CTA, 2023a). In 1992, the CTA adopted a law that the tax is Tibetans’ responsibility in the diaspora. For Tibetans in India, Nepal and Bhutan, the tax is equivalent to 20 Indian rupees for Tibetans from 6 to 17 years, and for those in other countries, it is 20$. For adults 18 and above, it is equivalent to 200 rupees in India, Nepal and Bhutan; for others, it is 46$. Additionally, there is an income tax, which varies between 2 to 4% of the salary. According to the CTA (2023a), the money is used for “school admission, school or university scholarship, and employment within the exiled community” (para. 4). It also helps finance the functioning of the CTA, allowing Tibetans to vote in its parliamentary elections worldwide and for welfare schemes. The tax is one of the many CTA’s attempts to overcome the economic precarity in South Asia.

The international nature of the CTA, its diaspora politics and its capability to seek funding manifest a volunteer tax for the supporters and sympathisers, launched in 1996. By paying the tax, they can get a Blue Book inspired by the Tibetan Green Book. According to the CTA (2023b), the Blue Book “enables friends of Tibet to make annual financial contributions to help support the various educational, cultural, developmental and humanitarian activities of the CTA” (para. 1).

Furthermore, the functions of the Tibetan Registration Certificate (RC) and Identity Certificate (IC) bear some similarities with Cohen and Van Hear’s (2017, 2020) Sesame Pass, a kind of smart card which includes a microchip that works as a form of ID (also for travelling) and a credit system (Cohen, 2017). The Tibetan RC functions as a residence and work permit; usually, everyone who applies gets it relatively promptly nowadays. Those Tibetans who have it can freely start enterprises, open a bank account and seek jobs they are qualified for in India, such as nursing or teaching. However, in practice, this is easier in the private sector as the government may demand citizenship (Balasubramaniam & Gupta, 2021). Both RC and IC are connected to the host state, unlike the Sesame Pass, and the GoI issues them, but the IC application requires the CTA's recommendation (Bureau of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, 2022). The IC functions as a ‘refugee passport,’ and, compared to the systems where the states deny peoples’ mobility for years while they wait for their asylum decisions, it can provide quicker access to mobility if the states accept it. As the Tibetan diaspora is transnational, the IC attempts to provide legal means to travel without Indian citizenship and a passport.

Tibetan Organisations, Aid and Development

In addition to the GoI’s and the CTA’s efforts, the key to the successful development of the Tibetan refugee communities has been the “systematic coordination among the various aid donors and relief agencies” and “the skillful use of the internal social organization of the refugees to implement relief work and long-term programmes” (Norbu, 2001, pp. 8–9). Interestingly, de Voe (1987, p. 58), who interviewed the donors who assisted the Tibetans more than thirty years ago, discovered that they liked the Tibetans and their culture and saw them as victims of the PRC, considering them deserving and “better clients” than some others eligible for aid (de Voe 2005, p. 58; see also Prost, 2006).

Tibetan institutions and organisations that promote or preserve Tibetan culture and Buddhism attract foreign donors and supporters. These include bigger institutions, such as the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts and Norbulinka Institute (focusing on preserving Tibetan material culture) and several smaller Tibetan NGOs, which may also offer volunteering opportunities (Frilund, 2015). Moreover, the Dalai Lama’s and Karmapa’s (another Tibetan religious head) teachings attract international religious and cultural tourism. As Prost (2006, p. 237) states, one key to the Tibetan success in attracting support is that they offer “cultural or spiritual performances of Tibetan Refugeehood” for the sponsors who provide them “instruments of development.”

This leads us to one crucial difference between Tibetan refugee communities and Refugia; Cohen and Van Hear have missed that for many (displaced) people, preserving their culture is extremely important and cultural products may also provide income. Cohen and Van Hear (2020) claim to “show how ethnic and religious differences can be mitigated” although “some heritage identities still persist in vestigial form” in Refugia and envision common cultural and linguistic characteristics, such as dances and the English-based language ‘Fugee’ for the Refugians (p. 57). However, the displaced are seldom from the English-speaking world, and many minoritised and indigenous communities struggle to preserve their culture and language, which have already been threatened by the majority in their home countries. This may be among the reasons why they left their homes, as is often true in the Tibetan case (Frilund, 2020; Wangdu, 2020). Asking the displaced to escape their heritage identities to live up to an assimilationist vision from a dominant cultural and linguistic background (see Cohen & Van Hear 2020, 57) is reminiscent of cultural imperialism. It is essential to realise the importance of peoples’ culture and mother tongue as human rights (see Skutnabb-Kangas, 2006). Top-down assimilationist policy seldom leads to peaceful co-living. As Jansen (2013) demonstrates, in some situations, the pressure to give up one’s own culture can even strengthen peoples’ protectionism towards it and create conflicts, such as the events of the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya when the Sudanese felt the UNHCR pressure to do so.

Preserving peoples’ culture can also play an essential role in their well-being. For example, Tso and Shukla (2022) demonstrate how Tibetan beliefs and cultural practices maintained their mental health and resilience during the COVID-19 pandemic in India. The pandemic was not worse among them than the local surrounding populations, as it was in some fully packed refugee camps (see Vonen et al., 2021). The UNHCR (2001–2022b) also recognises how important it is for refugees’ well-being to be able to practice their lifestyle and culture. For example, the satisfaction of the Tuareg refugees improved when they could practice their nomadic lifestyle instead of immobile camp life (see https://www.unhcr.org/alternativesto-camps.html).

The CTA’s Health Department, supported by the US-based Tibet Fund, focuses on Tibetans’ mental and physical well-being (Department of Health, 2019). According to its official, it has essential functions such as a modern laboratory and programmes “like mother and childhood care and TB control and substant abuse and HIV, those programmes. And also, Leprosy patients and disability programme. And a hospital station” (Personal communication, 28 March 2011). However, they also consider the Tibetan socio-cultural situation and cooperate with organisations that practice traditional Tibetan medicine when it is considered relevant, including sometimes when treating mental health issues, such as depression or trauma (Department of Health, 2019).

As the Dalai Lama saw separate Tibetan schools as the best opportunity to preserve and promote Tibetan culture, the GoI set up Central Schools for Tibetans (CST) and provided them with funding. These schools are one of the most remarkable systems the GOI and the Tibetans have developed together. They successfully provide education for Tibetan children in their language in exile and have produced good learning results, which the Tibetans consider a significant achievement (Wangdu, 2019). Moreover, Tibetan refugees’ cultural and educational institutions play important roles in helping Indian Himalayan communities, such as Ladakh, Mon, Spiti and others sharing linguistic and cultural affinities with Tibet, preserve their language and culture. Tibetan schools also usually allow local Indian children, often from impoverished backgrounds, to attend (Wangdu, 2019). Mutual benefits could also promote peaceful co-living with the locals in other refugee communities.

Because of foreign funding, support and cultural tourism, some Tibetan settlements, such as Dharamsala’s, have become even wealthier than the surrounding areas. Although this has caused jealousy among Indians in the Dharamsala area, they often admit that they have benefitted from the Tibetan presence, as it attracts visitors and funding, and the whole region has become more well-off (Salmela, 2014; see also Brouwer, 2020). Generally, the Tibetans’ relations with the local Indians have been surprisingly peaceful since the first settlements (e.g., Goldstein, 1975; McLagan, 1996, p. 203). In the agricultural settlements, Tibetans were given land by the GoI to produce food for the growing demands in India, so mutual benefits existed early on (Choedup, 2015).

Tibetan businesses, factories and farms have employed non-Tibetans already since the beginning of the diaspora, and the remote local communities have gained from developmental projects (roads, pipes, etc.) targeting Tibetan refugees (Norbu 2001, p. 16). Moreover, in Dharamsala, some Tibetan NGOs assist local Indians, such as Lha, which has a sister organisation in the US. It runs language and IT classes and a community kitchen in Dharamsala, welcoming local Indians who need these services, stating, “[b]y meeting the needs of the impoverished and underprivileged, we strive to generate an atmosphere of harmony and cooperation within the community” (Lha, 2023).

Furthermore, a community management project called Clean Upper Dharamshala Programme involves locals, tourists and travellers participating in its cleaning, recycling, waste collection and environmental education campaigns. It is run by the Tibetan Settlement Office, which belongs to the CTA’s Home Department. It has paid Tibetan staff, so it employs Tibetans. Refugia, too, has sustainability among its goals. Nevertheless, this type of mutual sustainable development would be more challenging to achieve as Refugia is meant to function “somewhere between the nation-state system and open borders or free movement,” but the movement between Refugiums and the states would require negotiation (Cohen & Van Hear, 2017, p. 497), which is problematic if the states deny it.

The Tibetan model allows movement within India and increases economic multi-sidedness, which Van Hear (2018) considers one cornerstone of Refugia’s economy. For example, many Tibetan farmers are involved in the sweater-selling business around India during the colder months, one of the most important Tibetan businesses in the country, while many sellers in Dharamsala move to Goa during the coldest months when it attracts fewer visitors. In comparison, in the Palestinian refugee camps, economic opportunities have been better in Syria and Jordan than in Lebanon, where the government restricts their interaction with the rest of the country (Martin, 2015).

In terms of development, one of the most significant advantages of the Tibetan settlements is that their organisations and institutions employ Tibetans instead of (foreign) development agencies and professionals. The power is not given to the UN or global capitalistic companies that receive tax reductions, such as in the SEZs, a neoliberal suggestion by Betts and Collier (2017). Neither have the Tibetans become cheap labour for global companies, as Lutz (2018) fears could happen if Refugia was implemented as it is in in some refugee camps in the Middle East. In Norbu’s (2001) words, the Tibetan example can be helpful when “formulating more effective NGO policies with regard to relief, rehabilitation and resettlement of refugees,” and it is relevant “to explore the possibilities of the role of refugees themselves in the process of rehabilitation, which would considerably enhance the NGO effort” (p. 23). Through locally run NGOs and institutions, the Tibetans have been able to attract funding, collect voluntary tax, distribute funds for those in need, govern their communities internally and get jobs. These elements could also improve living conditions in refugee settlements in other places.

The Challenges: Statelessness, Economy and Migration

Although the Tibetan model is an example of many successful practices that could be useful for other refugees and displaced persons, they also face challenges in South Asia and India. We have identified three major interrelated challenges that should be carefully considered in any new (Refugia-type) settlement for the displaced.

First, most of the Tibetans are technically stateless foreigners in India as their status is determined by the Foreigner’s Act of 1946 and the Registration of Foreigners Act of 1939. As India has not adopted national refugee protection legislation, and it is not a party to the UN’s 1951 refugee convention, it considers Tibetans as refugees de facto (Hess, 2009). Hence, they cannot vote in Indian elections or own land or real property, which is possible only for Indian citizens (Choedup, 2015). The citizenship question is complex as it would be possible for Tibetans born in India between 1950 and 1987 to seek citizenship for themselves and their children. Still, they rarely do so (see McGranahan, 2018). The decision to remain voluntarily stateless reminds Refugia where the displaced would choose to stay stateless within an alternative system to the nation-state order (see Cohen & Van Hear, 2020).

Cohen and Van Hear (2020) envision that Refugians’ social identities are “determined by neither being able to go back nor being able to anticipate acceptance into an existing nation state” (p. 22). In comparison, the CTA does not support Indian citizenship because the refugee status highlights their identity as exiled refugees who claim back Tibet. In addition to the fact that visioning (social) identities of other people does not provide a solid base for bottom-up development, Barbelet and Bennett’s (2018, p. 187) criticism that “Refugia fails to consider the evidence that most refugees aspire to return home when peace comes, or become citizens of another state, with all the rights, opportunities and privileges and sense of belonging that it entails” resonates with the Tibetan case. A common argument among them is that they want to go back to Tibet when it is “free,” which does not always mean complete independence but better autonomy, including freedom of culture, religion and expression. This can be compared with Palestinians in Lebanon, who reject naturalisation because they want to return to Palestine (Chaaban et al., 2016).

Perhaps the best solution for both would be to get full rights in their host countries as refugees. This could positively affect their economy without compromising identity-related questions. Nevertheless, many Tibetans who have migrated to Western countries, for example, seek citizenship because of the economic benefits and more unrestricted mobility in the form of an established passport (Hess, 2009; McGranahan, 2018). According to Hess (2009, pp. 225–226), the Tibetans who migrated to the United States often consider themselves simultaneously culturally Tibetan and stateless, wishing to return to Tibet when it is free, although they would be citizens of the United States.

This leads us to our intertwined second and third points, i.e., economic challenges and migration out of India. According to the CTA (2010), the migration trend will shape the structures and demography of the Tibetan diaspora the most in the future. For example, many Tibetan newcomers the other author of this article interviewed said that they want to migrate to what they often called “the West.” They arrive with diverse skills, education and languages, which do not necessarily match the Indian standards or needs. Hence, if they get work, it is often low-paid. Although several schools and NGOs also teach adult newcomers in India almost free of charge, this type of learning tends to provide essential survival skills in the diaspora rather than opportunities for higher education or high-skilled jobs. As the newcomers also sometimes feel culturally distant from Tibetans born or growing up in India and can sometimes be considered Sinicized by them (e.g., Hess, 2009; Swank, 2011), they may not become attached to India. Because of all this, a newcomer participant described Dharamsala as “a bus station” for them; they wait to get somewhere else (Personal communication, 16 December, 2015).

Out migration is also a trend among the Tibetans born in India. According to Choedup (2015), most youth capable of migrating have already migrated away from South Indian agricultural villages, many of them abroad. Changes in Indian economic structures, particularly from the 1990s onwards, have affected Tibetan settlements, and the agriculture and handicraft sectors are not always appealing to the increasingly educated Tibetan youth (Phuntsok, 2020). The settlements based on these sectors have not necessarily been able to provide sufficient jobs to match their higher education level. Therefore, unemployment rates have risen, and Tibetan migration to bigger cities in India has increased (Phuntsok, 2020). Van Hear (2018) believes that “services and products of a digital kind combined with an internally generated economy” would make Refugia nearly self-sufficient. However, working in the digital sector demands a specific type of education and markets, and in the Tibetan case, the digital era has not decreased out-migration but vice versa.

It is very visible in international and tourist places, such as Dharamsala, that global wealth and easier access to mobility accumulate, especially in the Global North; global inequalities boost migration aspirations (Frilund, 2020). Only Indian citizenship would not solve them and prevent migration. Indian citizens also migrate abroad, and India has the largest emigrant population globally (IOM, 2022); Tibetans participate in the trend. These are challenges that also Refugia could face. As it would lease land as close to the refugees’ original homes as possible, Refugiums would mostly be in the Global South (see UNHCR, 2001–2023a). As Crawley (2018) states, one pitfall of Refugia is that global inequalities are not truly discussed.

Van Hear (2018) proposes that those displaced who would not wish to stay in Refugiums could seek asylum from the existing states within the current refugee protection system. However, if their destinations would consider Refugiums as a “safe first country of asylum,” they could prevent them from getting asylum, a policy widely practised in Europe (see https://home-affairs.ec.europa.eu/pages/glossary/first-country-asylum_en). The other author of this article met a Tibetan in France, which is among their most popular destinations. He had first arrived in Spain, where his fingerprints were taken. Based on the Dublin regulation, the authorities aimed to send him back to Spain. As he refused to go, he stayed stateless and undocumented in France. Moreover, France and other European countries tend to provide asylum for Tibetans only if they can prove that they came from Tibet because India is considered a safe country; this may not make Indian citizenship more appealing.

Nevertheless, out-migration from South Asia or India cannot be seen as a failure of the Tibetan refugee community in terms of “development” but as a strategy to overcome economic precarity. Many Tibetan families try to send at least one family member to a wealthier country because of the remittances (Namgha, Ganesh & Jyotishi 2019; see also Choedup, 2015). Their benefits for the development of the migrants’ home countries are evident (e.g., Carling, 2014; Eggoh, Bangake & Semedo, 2019), and the possible opportunity to send remittances is often one of the main motivations to migrate away from the Global South (Carling, 2008). Hence, from the three challenges discussed in this chapter, migration has the potential to improve livelihoods and decrease economic precarity, although the changing demographics is a challenge for the CTA, which needs to try to manage an even more scattered and transnational population.

Discussion and Conclusion

The Tibetans had successfully applied several Refugia-like elements in practice long before its introduction by Cohen and Van Hear (2017, 2020), including democratic refugee governance, a taxation system and a “refugee passport” while the CTA functions as a “state-like polity in exile” (McConnell, 2009, p. 343). Therefore, despite Refugia’s apparent pitfalls and the justified criticism (e.g., Barbelet & Bennett, 2018; Buxton, Huynh & Kwek, 2017; Crawley, 2018; Lutz, 2018), the Tibetan example demonstrates that there is no need to dismiss all its elements entirely. Rather, there is a need to discuss in more detail how to what extent and where these elements could be the most beneficial in practice.

There are two major, somewhat interrelated reasons why we promote the Tibetan model over a Refugia type of system. First, Cohen and Van Hear’s (2017, 2020, 57) tendency to envision the identities of the Refugians and plan to “mitigate” cultural differences makes Refugia a top-down assimilationist vision, not necessarily ideal for minorities struggling with cultural freedom and survival. It differs from Norbu’s (2001) bottom-up approach, which addresses the importance of building upon values, cultures and an existing social system of the displaced. One primary reason for the success of the Tibetan refugee community is that they have been allowed and supported to build up their settlements, organisations and institutions based on their heritage and existing expertise, although they have also renewed many old practices. As Norbu (2001) states, the refugees in the Global South should not be “fossilized” to their traditions, but if their traditional culture, social structures and indigenous leadership are harnessed to improve their situation, then development programmes produce better results (p. 21). Yet, the Tibetan settlements are not parochial and are generally open for people globally, hosting long-term residents also beyond South Asia, just as the Refugiums are planned to be available for like-minded (Cohen & Van Hear, 2017, 2020).

Second, Refugia is envisioned to operate too separately from the host states, ignoring mutual benefits between them and the displaced. For example, many Indian communities have benefitted from development projects in the Tibetan inhabited areas and increased employment opportunities boosted by Tibetan-related tourism. Moreover, the movement between Refugiums and the host state would need to be negotiated (see Cohen & Van Hear, 2017, 2020), while the Tibetans with the RC can move freely within India, integrate with the host communities and access resources such as hospitals, public transport, and rations. The Tibetan model demonstrates that it is possible for the displaced to practice their culture, govern their communities internally and still interact closely with the host state.

Although some Tibetan settlements were built on remote lands in India, the Tibetan model does not offshore refugees to faraway islands or countries like Australia has done or the UK plans to do by sending asylum seekers to Rwanda (see Collyer & Shahani, 2023; Refugee Council of Australia, 2023). India takes the escaping Tibetans in and does not turn them back or send them elsewhere. The Tibetan settlements in India have always attracted Tibetans as they offer cultural freedom, educational possibilities in their language and the opportunity to meet the Dalai Lama, for example (Frilund, 2020). The Tibetans also most often want to stay in their settlements or town parts even though they could move elsewhere within India.

Overall, the Tibetan model could provide more agency, freedom or safety for those living in “quasi-carceral” camps (Altin & Minca, 2017), detention centres and unsafe unofficial encampments, such as tent camps in the streets of global cities. It could likewise provide more autonomy for the displaced to govern their communities in places that Turner (2016) describes as UNHCR’s “confined spaces” within “international regimes of care” (p. 144). These may consist of planned camps, self-settled settlements and collective centres, assisted by humanitarian actors and host governments in a centralised manner, with some limitations concerning their inhabitants’ rights and freedoms (UNHCR, 2014, p. 4).

However, the Tibetan model is a product of specific historicity and owes its success to various unique historical, cultural and political reasons. Therefore, we do not promote “big ideas” (see Crawley, 2018). We acknowledge the challenges in the Tibetan refugee settlements, including the problems concerning land and property ownership, as well as the global structural inequalities affecting the displaced, refugees and minorities in the Global South. Nevertheless, other refugee communities could also benefit from democratic refugee-led community governance, including elections and modest (voluntary) tax, which guarantees some essential settlement functions and social security. Moreover, refugee passport could increase their possibilities for international travel and migration. Although all refugee communities cannot apply these outright, the Tibetan model is a concrete example that it could be possible.

Some think that Refugia is not realistic as it asks various groups of displaced from diverse sociopolitical backgrounds, and potentially with traumas, to govern together – this could lead to conflicts (Crawley 2018; see also Buxton, Huynh & Kwek, 2017). However, Van Hear (2018) compares these challenges to the diversities that all societies must handle. As the Tibetans do not have a multi-ethnic governance, it has not encountered these questions and cannot fully predict them. Nevertheless, as Norbu (2001, pp. 14–15) states, “refugees, in general, are traumatized and disoriented in many ways, there is a serious limit to their intake of new ideas and to their adoption of new forms of organization, no matter how democratic or novel.” Therefore, the displaced should be able to decide if they want to form smaller units that they gradually manage within their group or join or create larger units; they could always merge later if the residents consider it worthwhile. The process must be refugee-led from the beginning.

Finally, it would be beneficial if future research could enhance our findings by exploring refugees’ agency, contribution and actions in developing and managing their communities more widely beyond the Tibetan case. Including refugee voices, and sharing their best practices and the obstacles they encounter, can inform planning and improve settlements with them to ensure they also benefit from the planning, development and management processes in the form of jobs, increasing expertise and leadership roles.

Acknowledgements

We want to thank all Tibetans who have shared their knowledge about the community management of the Tibetan refugee settlements with us. We also thank the anonymous referees for their insightful comments.

Disclosure Statement

The authors report there are no competing interests to declare.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Rebecca Frilund

Dr Rebecca Frilund is an Associate Lecturer at Northumbria University (the UK), Department of Geography, and a Postdoctoral Researcher at Tampere University (Finland), Social Sciences. She has primarily worked with questions related to migration, refugees, refugee journeys, and community management among refugees, particularly Tibetans in India. She holds a PhD in Human Geography from the University of Turku (Finland).

K. Wangdu

Dr Kalsang Wangdu is an education specialist. He works with Alinea International (Canada) on education projects for Tibetan refugee children in India and Nepal. Dr Wangdu has published research articles on teaching history in Tibetan refugee schools. He holds a PhD in Education from the University of Turku (Finland).

Notes

1 It is not easy to find anything about Zatopia in English beyond Cohen and Van Hear (2020), but information exists in Dutch; e.g. https://www.oneworld.nl/lezen/opinie/femke-halsemas-burden-de-tyrannie-van-demiddelmaat.

2 Thousands of Tibetans tended to escape to India annually until 2009, except in those periods when the PRC tightened its border controls, and almost no one could escape (see Yeh, 2013). After 2009, the Tibetan flow out of the country has been minimal because of the PRC’s stricter border controls, affected by the Tibetan riots during the Peking Olympics, and perhaps also because of the improving economic situation in Tibet in comparison with Nepal and India in general (e.g. Frilund, 2020).