Are Tibetan monks now mere cultural relics?
But at Barkhor Square, in front of the temple, the pious mood gives way to a touristy lightness of manner: Robed monks whip out cameras and have portraits taken of themselves. Throngs of tourists from other parts of China and elsewhere float past the rows of wayside shops selling Tibetan kitsch and the occasional statuette of Mao Zedong. Wander a little further off, onto Lhasa’s streets, and it’s easy to forget you’re in the city that epitomises the core of Tibetan Buddhism. Chinese-owned karaoke bars, dance halls and massage parlours line the streets; there are even establishments that cater to those who seek pleasures of the flesh. On the one hand, the economic development of Lhasa has opened up new jobs and business opportunities — primarily for Han Chinese, but for ethnic Tibetans too. On the other, symbols of ‘modernity’ are sweeping across Tibet like a gale force, and with each gust, a little bit of the Tibetan way of life gets blown away. Yet, it isn’t just these material change
