In exile 50 years, will the Dalai Lama ever return to Tibet?

The Chinese authorities, at least in their more polite moments, claim that since the Dalai Lama's "system of theocratic feudal serfdom" was overthrown by Beijing 50 years ago, Tibet "has experienced a process from darkness to lightness," in the words of a government report issued last week.

More bluntly, some senior officials have taken to referring to the Dalai Lama as "a beast" set on snatching Tibet away from Chinese sovereignty. The stepped up vitriol, such as a recent editorial in the official Tibet Daily calling on people to "firmly crush the savage aggression of the Dalai clique," "makes the possibility of the Dalai Lama's return seem quite remote at the moment," says Ms. Saunders.

The Dalai Lama himself has acknowledged that "for the short term, the Tibet issue is hopeless," but still holds out hope that "when the time comes I will return with a reasonable degree of freedom" and hand over all his authority to a local government in Tibet running an autonomous administration under Chinese sovereignty.

At the same time, says Mr. Iyer, the Dalai Lama worries that his mere presence in Tibet would act as "a magnetic center" for anti-Chinese sentiment. His reception, likely to be ecstatic, would only dramatize the way in which many Tibetans feel loyal to him and not Beijing, and distract from resolving the deeper problems faced by Tibetans.

In Tibet itself and in Tibetan areas nearby, the Dalai Lama has become "the central image in protests," says Professor Barnett, suggesting that as political discontent spreads "increasingly a lot of people want him back under any conditions, even if it achieves nothing with the Chinese.

"The feeling that Tibet is deeply incomplete without him being there is a very strong feeling and it seems to be growing," Barnett adds, although there seems to be no chance that the Chinese government would let the Dalai Lama do more than visit Tibet occasionally, even if he lived in Beijing.

Tibetans' anxiety is sharpened by their leader's age and apparently weakening health; he has spent time in Indian hospitals four times over the past year, and has recently trimmed his busy schedule of meetings, teaching, and foreign trips.

There is a suspicion among foreign analysts of Chinese policy toward Tibet that Beijing has no intention of seriously seeking a solution to the problem and is planning simply to wait for the Dalai Lama to die. His successor, after all, would enjoy none of the international kudos, domestic devotion, or diplomatic experience that gives the Dalai Lama his political strength.

That would be unwise, cautions Iyer. "The Dalai Lama's fear is that once he and his restraining influence are gone, Tibetans will act on their frustrations, and maybe act violently," he says.

Since the last round in November, talks between top Chinese officials and delegates of the Dalai Lama, which have occurred sporadically since 2002, appear at an impasse. The Chinese side has repeatedly refused the Tibetans' demands to discuss the outlines of Tibetan autonomy, calling that plan "covert independence" and a violation of Chinese sovereignty.

Frustration at the lack of progress in these talks, and general political discontent, seems to be deepening among many Tibetans, say Barnett, pointing to the geographical spread of demonstrations last year and to continued reports of protests.

"Things are more critical than they have been for many, many years," Barnett warns. "This is a tinderbox, and the Chinese are very aware of that."

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