Articles
Waiting for Papers
Paperwork, Migration, and the Uncertainty of Tibetan Refugees in India
2023 Volume 13 Pages 1-17
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2023 Volume 13 Pages 1-17
This study examines the relationship between the temporality of refugees and migration by analysing the process through which Tibetan refugees in India obtain the requisite identification cards, papers, and documents to emigrate from the country. The lives of refugees are filled with uncertainty, which is especially prominent when it comes to migration. Refugees, who are not recognised as citizens of any country, are chronically forced to wait for long periods of time to obtain the documents required to travel abroad. This paper acknowledges that waiting highlights the vulnerability of refugees and systemic problems that compel them to wait. However, more importantly, this paper also argues that waiting can be viewed as an opportunity for refugees to engage in strategic activities to improve their situation. This paper investigates what kinds of documentation Tibetan refugees are required to leave India, what procedures they must follow to receive those papers, how they overcome the restrictions imposed on refugees, and what ‘waiting’ for papers means to them.
This paper aims to illustrate the chronic periods of waiting experienced by Tibetan refugees in India owing to the politics of the passport system and the global border regime, and to highlight the agency of refugees generated from this situation. Since many refugee studies have focused on the practices of place-making in host countries (Brun 2001; Malkki 1992; Turton 2005), livelihood strategies (De Haan and Zoomers 2005; Jacobsen 2006), and refugees’ journeys (Adhikari 2013; Benezer and Zetter 2015; Lindly 2010; Schon 2015), refugees are primarily viewed as a phenomenon closely related to the place. In recent years, however, migration studies and refugee studies have paid much attention to the temporality and waiting of marginalised people (Axelsson, Malmberg, and Zhang 2017; Bendixsen and Eriksen 2018; Carswell, Chambers, and De Neve 2019; Cwerner 2001; Fee 2022; Griffiths 2014; Kallio, Meier, and Häkli 2021; Mountz 2011). This study contributes to the recent temporal turn in migration and refugee studies, analysing the relationship between mobility and temporality through the material medium of papers, such as ID cards and various documents.
Migration is a sudden change that upsets the regular pace of daily life. The normal rhythm and flow, sequence and frequency, and duration of activities all become problematic (Cwerner 2001). Especially, refugees, who have suddenly lost their socio-economic base, face difficulty in performing daily activities in a space like a refugee camp. They never know how long they will be able to stay at a refugee settlement, or when a sudden change in the host country’s policies may disrupt their plans. Time is an important element that constitutes the experience of migration, and refugees experience immense uncertainty.
One of the greatest uncertainties for refugees is when travelling abroad. Countries with high refugee populations are generally developing countries. Refugees therefore prefer to migrate to the West in order to live a politically and economically stable life. However, they are not clearly aware of the documentation required to migrate abroad and it takes a long time to prepare. Furthermore, for refugees and asylum seekers, international travel requires more documentation and can be more expensive than for non-refugees (Fee 2022). They prepare the necessary documents, arrange money, and wait for a visa to be issued. As a result, refugees spend more time waiting in border areas and refugee camps. For all of us, waiting is a part of our daily routines—for example, waiting in line at the airport, waiting for the restrictions to be lifted during the current pandemic, or waiting at the train station for a friend. However, for refugees waiting is a chronic condition. Refugees are made to wait under various restrictions created by the state, especially when migrating to another country.
Waiting has often been described as a phenomenon conceptualising power relations between bureaucracy and the socially vulnerable. For example, Auyero (2012) portrayed the poor in Argentina as ‘patients of the state’ rather than citizens, demonstrating that the poor are made to wait to receive support from the state. Auyero described the welfare office as a space where uncertainty prevails, and argued that by making the citizens wait, the state transformed them into patients willing to listen to authorities. The time of the marginalised, like low-caste people and women in India, is also neglected by the state; they are sometimes even harassed or asked for bribes (Carswell and De Neve 2020; Carswell, Chambers, and De Neve 2019). Time is not equal for all people; in fact, it is hierarchised. Moreover, as Griffiths (2014) argued, undocumented migrants are always confronted with the ‘dual uncertainty of time’. On the one hand, people want the wait to be over as soon as possible because they do not know how long it will last, but on the other hand, they are forced to move without time to prepare, as visas are suddenly issued or deportation orders are issued on short notice (Griffiths 2014). People in this state of temporal limbo are forced to wait in a situation where their past, present, and future are unclear, and it is difficult for them to plan for the long term. In the age of the international paper regime, refugees must wait for a long time and pay a high price in order to prepare a single document to cross a border. Sometimes it is not known when the documents will be issued, and it is common for them not to even be notified that they will be issued in the first place. The temporality of refugees depends on identity documents and the host country’s policies. There is certainly a time beyond the control of the individual. Refugees are not only in a state of geographical limbo due to the restrictions on their movement but also a state of temporal limbo.
However, some doubts can be raised about the fact that waiting only leads to frustration and helplessness. Even for those whose physical mobility is restricted, such as refugees, social mobility and movement always occur in their daily lives. Being stuck is ‘entangled with a number of other processes of transformation, movement and volatility’ (Brun 2016: 393). While we cannot control the time of waiting by state policies and travel procedures, the agency of people should be emphasised. This would resonate with Ghassan Hage’s description of waiting as ‘active passivity’ rather than a ‘passive activity’ (Hage 2009). Some studies have also emphasised the ‘agentic capacity’ inherent in waiting (Axelsson, Malmberg, and Zhang 2017; Bendixsen and Eriksen 2018; Brun 2016; Carswell, Chambers, and De Neve 2019). Analysing who waits for what can reveal the politics surrounding waiting, and at the same time, it can elucidate how people shape agency within it. In other words, by capturing specifically what refugees wait for and what they do during that waiting time, it is possible to highlight experiences that differ from the temporality of non-refugees. Even in spaces where people are forced to wait, refugees and asylum seekers are engaged in a variety of activities, such as participating in educational programmes, learning foreign languages, and keeping in touch with their acquaintances and relatives abroad (Kallio, Meier, and Häkli 2021). Moreover, people with precarious political status, such as refugees, stateless people, and irregular migrants, may strategically use the waiting period to acquire citizenship in the West (Axelsson, Malmberg, and Zhang 2017; Bendixsen and Eriksen 2018; Fee 2022). Refugees are not people who just wait for something to happen to them. They actively protest, advocate, and try to do something about their status.
In the Tibetan refugee community in India, certain highly educated people may protest using the media or in public to improve their situation. Some Tibetans are also successful in business and attempt to settle in India. Yet, most refugees try to migrate to the West to escape their current situation and spend a lot of time obtaining the appropriate documents to do so. The number of Tibetan refugees emigrating from India has increased in recent years and their migration requires different documents and longer time than Indian nationals. Why do Tibetan refugees want to leave India? What is the process of obtaining documentation? What kind of papers do they have to wait for? How long do they have to wait for? This article addresses the above-mentioned questions and examines the relationship among refugee migration, documentation, and temporality by focusing on how the state regulates the movement of individuals, what role documentation plays in regulating migration, and how those who do not possess formal documentation attempt to move.
The data of this study were derived from ethnographic fieldwork conducted on multiple occasions between 2015 and 2022 in Dharamsala, India. The fieldwork included participant observation, both in-person and online semi-structured interviews, and informal conversations. All the informants of this study are newcomers who crossed the border in the early 2000s and are now in their twenties or thirties. While sharing our daily lives, we spoke about the uncertainty they face, what they feel as refugees, how they perceive their current situation, and how they imagine the future.
After China occupied the Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, in 1951, the Dalai Lama sought asylum in India in 1959, resulting in about 80,000 Tibetans successively crossing the border and taking refuge in India. With the support of the then prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru, the Dalai Lama established the Tibetan Government-in-Exile (TGiE) in Dharamsala, which has been home to Tibetan refugees, including the Dalai Lama since 1960. Dharamsala is a small town located in the Kangra District of Himachal Pradesh; nevertheless, the presence of the TGiE and the Dalai Lama has made Dharamsala a political and religious centre. Furthermore, the presence of the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts and Tibetan Medical and Astrological Institute in Dharamsala has made it a cultural centre. For this reason, Dharamsala is also called ‘Little Lhasa’ where the Tibetan culture is preserved.
Since the community of Tibetan refugees has a long history of over 60 years, they are quite diverse in terms of place of origin, time of border crossing, and age. Tibetan refugees of various backgrounds coexist in Dharamsala. Oldcomers fled to India in the 1960s mainly to evade Chinese aggression and repression of human rights; newcomers, the main informants of this study, sought asylum in India in the early 2000s to make a better future with educational and economic opportunities. Thus, many young Tibetans, especially in their late teens, decided to cross the border without their families due to difficulties in education and employment within Tibet. Associated with this, Dharamsala has been imagined as a ‘happy place’ by newcomers. While there are complex political, economic, and educational reasons for Tibetans’ exile, the religious implications of the presence of the Dalai Lama are also very significant. They can receive free education in Dharamsala under the blessings of the Dalai Lama and the sponsorship of the TGiE and NGOs. Almost all my informants responded that before coming to Dharamsala, they had imagined India is a ‘happy place’ and believed everything would be fine as long as they were near the Dalai Lama. For them, wherever the Dalai Lama stays is a holy place and their journey on a pilgrimage.
However, after Tibetans arrived in India their lives became more difficult than they had expected. Tibetans often refer to Dharamsala as ‘the international airport’ or ‘a giant transit city’. In the early 2000s, approximately 2,000 Tibetan refugees migrated to India each year; currently, the number stands at only 80 (before the COVID-19 pandemic). Furthermore, although there are no exact statistics, approximately 3,000 Tibetan refugees are believed to leave India every year (Frilund 2020). While the outflow of people is increasing, the inflow of refugees is decreasing. In the 2010s, many Tibetan refugees, especially newcomers, in India tend to try to migrate after a few years’ stay in Dharamsala, which Frilund (2020) calls ‘transit migration’. Although partly due to the impact of COVID-19, many Tibetans met during the 2022 fieldwork were concerned that Dharamsala was becoming ‘empty’.
In India, Tibetan refugees face three challenges. First, while Tibetan refugees can move within India, there are various restrictions on their movement abroad. Tibetan refugees are free to move within India as long as they have an ID card, as detailed in the next section. They also have unrestricted access to Nepal and Bhutan, where gentlemen’s agreements have been signed. Nonetheless, travelling to other countries is a frustrating process. Among Tibetan refugees in India, those who are able to travel abroad comprise a predominantly elite group, who travel for academic, official, or religious purposes, and who often have social networks in the destination country. However, most people cannot travel on a tourist visa, even if they have an ID card. When mobility is limited, Tibetans often feel stuck. With so many foreigners visiting Dharamsala, their own inability to move around becomes evident when they see people who are free to do closely. Therefore, Tibetan refugees try to leave India through marriage, plans to study abroad, third country resettlement programmes, or illegal ways.
Second, Tibetan refugees have difficulty finding employment. In a population survey of Tibetan refugees in India conducted by the TGiE in 1998, the unemployment rate for those aged 20 to 24 was 77%, and for those aged 25 to 29 it was 53% (Planning Council 2000: 365). A same population survey in 2009 revealed that among the working population aged from 15 to 64 of Tibetan refugees, the unemployed population accounted for 70% (Planning Commission 2010: 16). While Tibetans can legally work in India, it is difficult for them to acquire a secure job. Even for those with a university degree, it is challenging to get a job at Indian companies, and those with degrees usually work in media, NGOs, or organisations within the Tibetan community-in-exile. Those who have had difficulty pursuing higher education are more likely to start their own businesses—for example, opening small stores, selling handmade goods and food to tourists, or selling Tibetan medicines and carpets through the Internet. Though these informal economies are an important source of income for refugees, it is difficult for them to earn a stable wage, and they must rely on remittance from acquaintances or family members in abroad.
Third, the legal status of Tibetan refugees is precarious. One of the most important factors determining refugees’ lives is the host country’s policy. India is not a member of the 1951 Refugee Convention, the 1954 Convention relating to the Status of Stateless Persons, or the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees. Nevertheless, the country protects and supports refugees through its own policies and has accepted refugees from Tibet, Sri Lanka, Burma, Bhutan, Afghanistan, and Bangladesh since the 1960s. However, India has not enacted any refugee law, and the legal status of Tibetans is that of ‘foreigners’ as ordained by the 1946 Foreigners Act. Under the Citizenship Act (1955), every person born in India between 26 January 1950 and 1 July 1987 can obtain citizenship through a judicial process; however, only a few have been successful in doing so (Yamamoto 2019). While some believe that maintaining their refugee status will help them hold on to their Tibetan identity, most have a strong desire to leave India and obtain citizenship in Western countries. Along with their precarious legal status, one of the most painful things for them is renewing their period of stay. Tibetan refugees are generally offered a one-year period of stay; therefore, every year they have to go to the Foreigners Registration Office in India to renew their stay. Renewing their period of stay is one of the instances of paperwork where Tibetans are often harassed and have to bribe the officials to ensure the renewal of their stay. Moreover, Tibetans can be suddenly inspected by the Indian police on the street. I often witnessed such checkpoints while returning home at night with Tibetans, and was often harassed if the Tibetans did not have an ID card in hand.
Papers, such as identity papers or documentation, are implements of modern states and legal systems (Caplan and Torpey 2001; Chhotray and McConnell 2018; Hull 2012; Navaro-Yashin 2007; Prasad-Aleyamma 2018; Torpey 2000). As Foucault said, the modern system of identification ‘places individuals in a field of surveillance also situates them in a network of writing; it engages them in a whole mass of documents that capture and fix them’ (Foucault 1979: 189). In particular, ID cards are a means of mobility surveillance and play an indispensable role in creating institutionalised movement for the nation-state; for example, Torpey (2000) argued that states monopolised the legitimate ‘means of movement’ through passports. ID cards, such as passports and other travel documents, are created as a restrictive measure preventing the migration of those who are undesirable to the state1.
While Tibetans can live, work, receive education, and move in India as de facto refugees, travelling abroad requires a multitude of procedures. Analyses of various certificates, cards, and other documents held by refugees can reveal how the government manages people’s mobility and immobility.
For Tibetan refugees, especially newcomers, two travel documents are provided. First, the Government of India (GoI) issues an Identity Certificate (IC), which acts as a passport. The IC cannot be issued without a Registration Certificate (RC), an ID card issued to Tibetans by the GoI. An IC functions like a passport; however, Tibetans cannot secure travel visas simply with it. In other words, the IC does not have the same status as the Indian passport. Even if Tibetans are eligible for a visa and can travel abroad, they must always receive an ‘exit permit’ beforehand, without which the Indian Bureau of Immigration may not allow them to leave or they may experience difficulty returning to India. In addition, although it is possible to obtain a visa for academic or public interest purposes, immigration officers at the destination always interrogate IC holders due to the lack of information regarding ICs. Thus, despite travelling with official, legal visas in the form of stamped ICs, Tibetans must often wait for hours at the airports. The following is written on the IC:
This certificate is issued for the sole purpose of providing the holder with identity papers in lieu of a national passport. It is without prejudice to and in no way affects the national status of the holder. (Emphasis added)
According to the above, the IC is like a passport; however, Tibetans cannot secure travel visas simply with an IC.
The second type of travel document is issued by the Chinese government. Although this is a travel document, it only allows entry into Tibet. The way back to Tibet is a long process. Tibetan refugees must apply for this document at the Chinese Embassy in New Delhi, where the applicant’s background information and whether they have parents or relatives in Tibet is verified. According to an informant who was allowed to return to Tibet, Chinese officers visited his parents’ house to interrogate them, asking when and why the informant had been to India. Once their identity is confirmed, the information is sent to the embassy and a travel document is issued to the applicant. The estimated issuing time varied. It could take as little as two or three months, or it could take years. Since the criteria are unclear, it is also unknown whether the document will be issued at all. Moreover, families in Tibet must verify the identity of applicants; thus, it is nearly impossible for Tibetans who were born in India and have no relatives in Tibet to acquire the necessary travel documents.
As with the IC, it is stated that this travel document can be in lieu of a passport and travel to all countries, but the reality is otherwise. The travel document states that
this travel document is an identity certificate for travel purpose in lieu of a passport and is valid for travel to all countries. (Emphasis added)
In fact, Tibetans in possession of this travel document can only use it for flights departing from Nepal and entering China at specific airports; they cannot travel to all the countries as stated. Basically, entry through other Chinese cities is prohibited, and entry is only permitted at airports designated by the authorities. Besides, this travel document has a two-year validity and can only be used once.
These two documents allow them to leave India legally. However, since their documents are not official passports, embassies in India often take a considerable amount of time to examine them. Moreover, since general tourist visas cannot be issued, invitation letters from acquaintances and family members living overseas are indispensable for overseas travel. Issuing such an invitation also takes a considerable amount of time and no one knows when they will be granted a visa. Even when travelling for academic or public interest purposes, months of preparation are required, and the outcome is uncertain.
ID cards, passports, and travel passes are material objects used by the nation-state as a means of surveillance and monopoly over the movement of individuals, and also evoke people's affect when they apply for them. While filling out the paperwork to obtain each ID card, refugees experience irritation, anger, cynicism, and discouragement. Tibetan refugees, especially those who do not speak Hindi or English fluently, are often harassed by officers. They go to renew their period of stay, to get exit permit, and are forced to wait on the street for several hours without any explanation. When the official responsible for signing the paper leaves the room, the Tibetan refugees are forced to wait until they return. The situation is exacerbated if the refugees are not affiliated to an institution or are unemployed. In such cases, bribery becomes a commonplace practice. In India, applying for certificates and ID cards is not only difficult for refugees and stateless people but also a challenging process, especially for women and villagers belonging to lower castes. People are made to wait, beg, and even cry to get the requisite cards or signatures (Carswell and De Neve 2020; Carswell, Chambers, and De Neve 2019; Shinde 2016). As Navaro-Yashin argued, ID cards are the ‘material objects of law and governance, as capable of carrying, containing, or inciting affective energies when transacted or used in specific webs of social relation’ (Navaro-Yashin 2007: 81).
Refugees must wait for the official-in-charge to sign and issue the relevant documents when entering and leaving India. Though Dharamsala is often compared to an international airport, there is no set schedule, no announcement of postponements, and delays can occur at any time. Passports and the various documents required for Tibetan refugees’ travel are not a means of allowing freedom of movement, but instead are means of regulating their movement.
Tibetan refugees often have four options for migration. The first is to get an invitation letter from acquaintances or family members abroad. Marriage is the easiest way to obtain an invitation letter; this includes marriage to both Tibetans and foreigners. If they do not have a ‘real’ potential spouse, refugees may have to pay a fee to find a spouse, or a close acquaintance, such as someone from the same hometown who may act as their spouse ‘on paper’. One of my informants reported,
I have an acquaintance in Europe, a man from my hometown whose parents know mine. I don’t know him personally, but he is going to invite me as his wife. So, I am collecting everything that can show us a couple. If this fails, I will be stuck here.
In this situation, it is essential to collect materials that serves as proof of a ‘real’ relationship, such as letters, messages, and photos of the couple, and it is time consuming to compile the necessary papers. If the person sending the invitation is already a citizen of the country, it can slightly shorten the wait period, although even in this case, it usually takes more than a year. If the sender of said papers is a Tibetan without citizenship, they must wait until they become a citizen of the county, which usually takes more than three years.
Second, obtaining a student visa is also another easy way to move abroad. Many nations are willing to accept refugees as students. From a humanitarian point of view, this provides eligibility for resettlement and educational opportunities, as well as establishing a good reputation for the host country in the international community. Accepting international students is not a state-sponsored initiative but is primarily carried out by private institutions such as universities and NGOs; therefore, they are less politically charged. For example, Tibetan refugee children were sent to study in Japan, in institutions such as Moriyama Nursing School, from 1965 (Yamada 2017). South Korea has also accepted Tibetan refugees on full scholarships to Dongguk University since 2012. Although individual circumstances vary, studying abroad is one of the easiest ways to leave India for people interested in academia. One young Tibetan studying in South Korea recounted,
when I graduated from the school, I just wanted to go abroad. I was good at studying, and I happened to find an announcement about a full scholarship at Dongguk University in South Korea. Before then, I knew nothing about South Korea, and I did not know the language. But South Korea gave me one more option to leave India.
The third option for migration is to take advantage of resettlement projects for Tibetans by developed countries—for example, the US and Canada. The resettlement projects in the US and Canada are already filled to their capacity, although people who have migrated through these projects continue to invite more Tibetans from India and Nepal. Among the two, the US has the largest Tibetan population after India. The number of Tibetan immigrants in the US prior to 1990 was approximately 500; however, this population has increased since the Tibet Immigration Act was issued (Hess 2009: 13). The Tibetan US Resettlement Project (TUSRP), a provision in the 1990 Tibet Immigration Act, was a campaign for the immigration of 1,000 displaced Tibetans residing in India and Nepal2—now, there are approximately 25,000 Tibetans in the US (Social and Resource Development Fund 2020). Tibetan refugees have been migrating to Canada since the 1960s, and now there are around 10,000 Tibetans living in the country. In 1972, Canada established the Tibetan Refugee Program and resettled 228 Tibetans who had been living in Northern India (Hess 2009: 99). Thereafter, when the Dalai Lama visited Ottawa in 2007, he discussed the situation with the then prime minister, Stephen Harper, who decided to accept Tibetan refugees from the state of Arunachal Pradesh as Tibetans there were known to be among the poorest. A total of 1,000 Tibetan refugees were selected by lottery and migrated to various parts of Canada over a span of five years. Besides the US and Canada, the Australian government has also issued humanitarian visas to Tibetan refugees who were former political prisoners.
The above methods are legal and relatively easy to follow. If Tibetans have the RC and IC, they can apply for resettlement projects and scholarship programmes or migrate through marriage. However, it is very difficult for some newcomers, who do not have the correct papers to migrate. In contrast to those who can legally migrate, some have no choice but to attempt to travel illegally using forged passports. This is the fourth way of migration. Various studies have observed that irregular migrants attempt to migrate by trading, buying, or fabricating papers (Chhotray and McConnell 2018; Navaro-Yashin 2007; Shinde 2016; Vasta 2011), and the media has extensively reported on Tibetans who were arrested after using forged passports at airports.3 Some who do not have ICs or acquaintances overseas buy forged passports from travel agencies or brokers. These methods can be very dangerous as brokers may flee with the money, leaving the refugee instantly in debt. In other cases, refugees may be deported at the airport because of a forged passport. Though this is a high-risk and expensive method of migration, people continue to try to travel abroad in this manner.
Tibetan refugees who wish to migrate need to find a way that suits their situation and prepare the appropriate papers. For refugees without official passports, migration is a matter of life and death, and their future depends on the availability of proper papers. Whether legal or illegal, Tibetan refugees must have the appropriate documentation for each method of migration; in case of the legal method described in the previous section, an ID card issued by the GoI is essential. If they are unable to do so, they will have to find an illegal way. The following subsections provide Tibetan refugees’ accounts on the kind of papers they are waiting to be issued for migration.
5.1 Waiting for IDsYulha4, in his 30s, has two names on papers. His parents were political prisoners in Tibet, owing to which he was afraid to reveal his real identity when he arrived in India. Like many Tibetan boys, he belonged to a monastery as a monk by the age of 7. When he registered for the ID issued by TGiE, known as the Green Book, he used the Dharma name given to him when he was a novice monk; however, he used the fake name on his RC. As a result, he could not be issued an IC due to the two different names on papers. Tibetan refugees, especially newcomers, do not have a birth certificate or other official documents in India to link their different ID cards together, and it can take several years to correct the information on these cards.
The delays in paperwork caused by the Indian bureaucracy are partly due to the structural problems; however, it can also result of the differences in the Tibetan naming system and their perceptions of identity cards. Most Tibetans only have two first names. A small number of Tibetans use surnames; however, in general, people have only one, two, or even four first names, which do not fit into the name structure on the ID card issued by the GoI. Consequently, some choose a random surname because the card cannot be issued if this space is left blank, and some documents are issued with a cross in the space for surname. A large proportion of those who fled to India were minors, who did not understand the importance of ID cards at the time and may have registered under different names for each ID card. In some people, the names registered on each document were slightly different or spelled incorrectly, and they often had to wait long periods of time just to make the corrections. Like Yulha, prior political prisoners or their family members are even more likely to use different names because they are fearful of revealing their identity.
The problems caused by the discrepancy between the traditional naming system and international standards are not only limited to Tibetans but also arise elsewhere. As Griffiths (2013) noted, as the parameters of identification, including the naming system, the style of writing, and the birth date following the Gregorian calendar, become internationally standardised, any identification that does not conform to these standards will be suspected by the state of being unidentifiable. For example, in the case of orphans and street children, the exact date of birth or age cannot be known. In such cases, the only way is to ‘invent’ a date of birth. Moreover, when transliterating a name into the alphabet, the names may be different from one document to another (Griffiths 2013: 292–93). For refugees or stateless persons, their mobility can easily become illegal. What distinguishes whether or not their mobility is legal is a piece of paper or a signature on an ID card. It is extremely problematic to explain the mobility of refugees and ID cards within a dichotomous framework of always being illegal or legal (Navaro-Yashin 2007).
In Yulha’s case, he had to wait for six long years. He was a teenager when he came to India in exile. He crossed the border from Tibet to India alone and told me that there were no adults around to tell him how to proceed. When crossing the border, he was afraid that his identity would be revealed, so he registered his identity under two different names when he came to India. This ended up being a very serious problem as he could not be issued a travel document that would allow him to travel abroad. His mother had already defected to the West5, and he tried to use her network to migrate; however, the paperwork did not go through. He spent a long time preparing documents. He asked his relatives in Tibet to issue some documents to prove his identity. He was also able to reconcile various documents in India, which enabled him to be officially issued a travel document. He is now finally staying with his mother. It took him almost six years to be issued with one travel document equivalent to a passport.
5.2 Waiting for Invitation LettersTibetan refugees experience an endless waiting period as they go through the process of obtaining the necessary identity documents in India. However, even after obtaining these, they have to wait for invitation letters from their acquaintances abroad or from the host country to obtain a visa.
Sonam and Tenzin are a married couple with a two-year-old daughter. They crossed the Tibetan border separately in the early 2000s and had no family in India. They met and married in India; however, Tenzin did not have an RC and was unable to get a job. He did not go out much and avoided walking in the streets late at night. They decided to leave India because of Tenzin’s uncertain status and for the sake of their daughter’s education. Since they did not know anyone abroad, Tenzin paid a lot of money to buy a forged passport and entered Europe. He applied for a refugee status as soon as he arrived; thereafter, he needed to call Sonam and their daughter. To do this, Tenzin had to be officially recognised as a refugee and be ready to bring his family over. He also needed documentation to prove that he and Sonam were married; however, since they had not officially registered their marriage, they spent a long time preparing photographs of themselves as a couple with their daughter to prove that they were a family. Finally, three years after Tenzin’s departure from India, Sonam and her daughter were also allowed to depart India, and now the family lives together. When Sonam was in India alone with her daughter, waiting to hear from Tenzin, she said,
I am worried because I do not know how much longer I have to wait. But what to do? I’ve heard that Europe is a kind place for Tibetan refugees. I just have to wait for Tenzin to send me the papers, and in the meantime, I am learning language or some other useful skill to make life easier.
Sonam’s case is common in Dharamsala. This is also the reason why there are many single mothers and single fathers in Dharamsala remaining in India with their children. In Europe, if one waits for two to three years, it is often possible to send a letter of invitation to the spouse; however, in other countries, they may have to wait longer. For example, another informant married a woman from their hometown. After their marriage, his wife got opportunity to migrate to one English-speaking country. That was in 2015; however, even in 2022, he is still living alone in Dharamsala, waiting for an invitation letter from his wife.
People waiting for invitation letters from their spouses expect to be able to migrate if they wait a few years. Therefore, they learn a lot during that time. The space where the refugees live is appropriate for learning foreign languages because of the presence of diverse NGOs and volunteer activists from all over the world. In Dharamsala, English, French, Chinese, and Dutch are easy to learn. Besides, it is usually free. Many Tibetans are unemployed and often live on remittance sent by family members living abroad or in Tibet. As a result, they have a lot of free time. In their free time, they may go for walks, chat with friends, or participate in various programmes offered by NGOs. Learning a foreign language is the most popular option, but they also often study tailoring, web designing, cooking, and other subjects that might be useful when they move abroad.
5.3 Waiting for Black PapersJamyang, who was exiled to India in 2003, was always wandering around. Although he worked in cafes from time to time, it did not last long. When he could afford it, he would go for picnics or pass his time by playing games with friends. He occasionally received remittance from his family or acquaintances in Tibet and had a lot of free time. Of these, his most ardent endeavour was to apply for a tourist visa. When he went to Delhi, he always visited foreign embassies. He did not have a partner or acquaintances in any other country; however, he persisted in trying to obtain a tourist visa using his IC. Of course, he never succeeded. No country easily grants tourist visas to refugees who do not have an official passport.
For refugees, social networks in other countries, especially in the West, are one of the most important resources. Resettlement projects in Western countries have led to the departure of many Tibetan refugees from India and their migration to the West. Since then, their acquaintances and family members have been invited from India. Apart from the South Asian countries where the largest number of Tibetan refugees live, there are about 50,000 diasporas living in Europe and North America. However, Jamyang had no social network to take advantage of it. That is why Jamyang just visited embassies to acquire a visa, not knowing for sure whether one would be issued or not.
For those who have no acquaintances abroad, it is common to forge the documents or even a passport. In Tibetan, such papers are described as shog gu nag po6, meaning ‘black paper’. After several failures, Jamyang decided to obtain a forged passport. As mentioned above, forged passports are illegal, which cannot be made public; therefore, acquiring them involves high risk and high cost. It is often a one-time opportunity and even involves borrowing large sums of money from people around. They use their networks to find a broker or apply for a fake passport from a travel agent. However, being illegal, the passports expose them to the risk of being arrested and being cheated by brokers. Jamyang was once deceived by a broker and lost a lot of money. He went all over India for a time to find the broker who had cheated him. Unable to find the broker, he ended up once again borrowing money from a family member in Tibet and having his forged passport reissued from a different broker.
Jamyang spent a considerable sum of money to get his passport made and waited for four years in Dharamsala. He networked with people, found brokers to make a fake passport, and collected money to go abroad, which he had always wanted to do. Dharamsala is full of tourists; it is also a place where he visualised his immobility. He wanted to go somewhere other than India; in the end, he was able to leave India with his ‘passport’.
Many Tibetans in Dharamsala are often waiting for papers to migrate. In the meantime, they usually do temporary business, or learn the language of the destination country. Some participate in free self-reliance support programmes offered by NGOs and learn computer skills, cosmetology, and traditional Tibetan massage. While they wait, they engage in activities that they think will help them to go abroad one day. They try different things instead of concentrating on one thing, as they are not aware of the kind of situation awaiting them. Consequently, Dharamsala is full of people wandering around. During my fieldwork, I constantly ran into someone I knew while walking the narrow streets of Mcleod Ganj, a particularly Tibetan-populated area in Dharamsala. I often came across friends drinking tea on a bench or chatting with street vendors, and I ended up spending the whole day with them. Wandering of this kind is called ‘khyam ‘khyam in Tibetan. Leaving home without a clear purpose or destination and performing any of the aforementioned activities are all included in the concept of ‘khyam ‘khyam. Many Tibetans, especially newcomers, are unemployed, and even those who have jobs do not work all day, meaning they have a lot of free time. Even for those who have no papers to wait for, ‘khyam ‘khyam can often be a form of leisure for them to spend their free time.
‘khyam ‘khyam is perceived by many as if it is a waste of time and a purposeless activity. However, it is also used as a strategy for the future. For newcomers, ‘khyam ‘khyam ‘serves to recreate and reinforce their new network ties through which information about educational, social and economic opportunities circulate’ (Swank 2011: 55). While some may disregard those who wander around, calling them ‘stray dogs’ (‘khyam khyi) or a ‘wanderer’ (‘khyam po), my fieldwork also revealed that Tibetan youths build social relationships with their friends through ‘khyam ‘khyam, from which they may acquire a variety of information. Most of my informants made new friends, including me, on the streets and gathered information on business or migration from those friends. Yulha said,
when I am in Mcleod Ganj, I am always going to ‘khyam ‘khyam. Being at home alone is not usual for us. We are always hanging out with friends. So, I go outside to wander. It is good for killing time, of course, but some wonderful things also happen on the street. I’ve done business with a person I met by chance on the street, and I’ve gotten support money from a foreign tourist. It’s a place where new things happen all the time.
Although wanderers may be described as ‘stray dogs’ wasting time by some, their practices reveal that they are open to new possibilities. This is in part connected to the ‘timepass’ described by Jeffrey (2010), who surveyed India’s highly educated unemployed youth about their unstructured time. Activities such as drinking tea, ‘hanging out’, and chatting with friends are what they call ‘timepass’. These activities are often seen as a waste of time or a demonstration of laziness; however, Jeffery appealed for an understanding of ‘timepass’, a form of waiting, as a practice of constructing new political strategies. Thus, it is not necessarily a waste of time to wander on the streets. ‘khyam ‘khyam makes the street a meeting point to obtain further information—such as business ideas, information on the documents and costs required to travel abroad, information on reliable brokers, the size of the Tibetan community in each country, what jobs Tibetans can do, what they should prepare for in India, where they can learn the language for free, and how long they have to prepare before travelling. For Tibetan refugees, ‘khyam ‘khyam, a form of waiting, is an opportunity to actively choose from the options available to them and develop their future.
Tibetan refugees have to wait until they receive the necessary papers to go abroad. While waiting, they wander around or spend time with friends. Just as Tibetan refugees are disregarded as ‘stray dogs’ for wandering the streets, undocumented people often tend to be perceived as idlers with nothing to do but to wait (Griffiths 2014: 1996). Yet, that does not mean that they do nothing but wait in despair or helplessness. Tibetan refugees, who have a lot of free time, wander the streets and acquire information from friends they meet on migration-related issues. Information is often shared mainly between trusted people, and Tibetans often have trust in people from the same hometown. If one of their friends has travelled abroad, they may ask more specifically, or if they know someone whose spouse has already migrated. Sometimes they meet on the street and talk over tea straight away or obtain the contact details of people who have travelled abroad and send messages to each other. The wait is tedious; however, in their own way, they are preparing for the migration.
On the other hand, the reasons they continually go out and wander the streets is not just to get information. Although their longing to migrate overseas is profound, it is extremely difficult for refugees to go to the countries they want. Instead, refugees evaluate their situation and obtain information about the systems available to them. To increase their success rate, they experiment with various possibilities, such as applying for scholarships, falling in love with a foreigner, learning a foreign language, interacting with foreign supporters, or obtaining a tourist visa, to see which they can achieve. Further opportunities can also be seized as new social networks are created. On the streets of Dharamsala, where anything can happen, people are wandering around and exploring various possibilities. If any of these routes are successful, the refugees plan their future accordingly. Sometimes this is intentional; however, more often, it is a case of chance.
This study tried to focus on the process through which Tibetan refugees in India obtain the necessary identification and documentation to move abroad, and analyses this process in relation to the activity of waiting. Refugees are not recognised as citizens by any country, and their lives unfold in a variety of ways depending on the regulations of the host country. There is uncertainty about when they will be able to prepare the necessary papers, especially since travelling abroad has become increasingly difficult due to heightened border surveillance and international standardisation of identification documents. Waiting is a part of our daily lives; however, an unending wait without any knowledge of its outcome is painful. While there are no restrictions on the movement of Tibetan refugees within India, they face various limitations while attempting to travel abroad including, especially, the long waiting period of time they must undergo to obtain the required papers. Even if Tibetan refugees are issued the travel document by the GoI, they are not guaranteed a visa for their chosen destination country; it is necessary to have local acquaintances and agencies to verify their identity, which can be proved with a piece of paper.
As Hage (2009) and Brun (2016) point out, ‘waiting’ appears to be stagnant, people are always on the move. It seems as if ‘waiting’ is a passive activity where nothing can be controlled, but it is an activity in which the possibility of people’s agency is inherent. Refugees are restricted in their movement by the administrative procedures that allowed (or prevented) them to travel, such as passports and visas, and are often forced to wait relentlessly for documents and certificates to be prepared. It is not a personal problem, but the system in the age of paper regime has resulted in longer waiting times for refugees and asylum seekers. However, that does not mean that refugees waste that waiting time doing nothing. They use the waiting time strategically by sharing information on how to obtain the necessary documents for administrative procedures, information on brokers, and information on the size of the Tibetan community in each country. They also learn foreign languages and skills. Furthermore, they work hard at many things, envisioning diverse possibilities for migration. Many Tibetan refugees, like Jamyang, try to get visas issued at foreign embassies when they go to Delhi, learn foreign languages in case they are suddenly granted visas even though they have no travel plans, actively socialise with foreigners and try to obtain information from their acquaintances who have already travelled abroad. Refugees are deprived in varied ways due to the restrictions imposed on their movement by the host country, and they are not able to manage their time freely. Nevertheless, amid the dual uncertainty of the absence of change and the concurrent possibility of sudden change, refugees do not simply wait and do nothing; they try to grasp the possibility of a reliable future through various practices. Waiting is a phenomenon wherein the institutional vulnerability of the refugees’ inability to control their mobility and time and their agency intertwine.
I would like to thank all the Tibetan friends, who generously answered my research questions. I would also like to thank two referees for their precise comments and the editorial board for their support during the review process. Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the 34th Annual Conference of Japanese Association of South Asian Studies in 2021.
1 Some states have previously enacted laws to restrict the movement of undesirable people. Most of these have now been repealed. The foremost such laws are India's Criminal Tribes Act (1871), France's Nomads Act (1912), and South Africa's Natives (Urban Areas) Act (1923).
2 Due to its relations with China, the US accepted Tibetans as ‘immigrant’, rather than ‘refugees’. The US government arranged housing and English tutoring for Tibetans, but no federal funding or benefits (Hess 2009).
3 For the full story, see https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/mumbai/2-tibetan-nationals-held-at-mumbai-airport-with-forged-malaysian-passports-4844308/.
4 All names used in this paper are pseudonyms.
5 Country names are not disclosed to prevent identification.
6 For Tibetan script, the Wiley transliteration is used.
