We stationed ourselves comfortably across the street from the Consulate and turned on our machines. They obliged swiftly, skipping all technical difficulties that usually dog us at public events. Within seconds, the New York sky lit up, as giant images of Runggye Adak, Kalsang Tsultrim, Tashi Dhondup, Tenzin Delek Rinpoche, and other political prisoners in Tibet appeared on the facade of the Consulate.

The crowds cheered as the Consulate wall got drenched in the colors of the Tibetan national flag. We typed the letters, “Free Tibet Now.” Then switching to a Tibetan keyboard, we typed ང་བོད་པ་ཡིན། (I am Tibetan), a phrase that Tibetans in Tibet started repeating in songs and videos and poems to the point where this combination of three ordinary words has come to symbolize resistance and revolution. It was our message to Tibetans inside Tibet, a clear sign to indicate that we on the outside would mirror their thoughts and follow their command.

Once they learned about the light show, some of the Chinese Consulate officials walked over to our side of the street and said, “We are object” to our action. Someone from our team replied that we also objected to what the Chinese government was doing to the Tibetan people, though I’m not sure if the official understood what was said.

It was getting late, and the Consulate officials were getting more agitated. So we typed on the wall, “Good night, New York. Good morning, Tibet.” We told the Consulate officials we would be back but didn’t tell them exactly when.

We ended up making a short video of our nonviolent guerrilla action that you can watch below:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Reading about Shogdung’s numerous essays and books further confirmed my long-held opinion that what we have been witnessing is a Tibetan renaissance that is 1000 years overdue. It might take us another century to recognize this too, but future generations will look back on this decade and call it the Tibetan renaissance.

Yes, it’s a thousand years overdue but it’s finally here. Tibetan Renaissance has begun. Every day a new book, a new poem, a new essay, or a new pamphlet. Every week a new music album, a new painting, a new thangka, a new exhibition. Every month a new film, a new idea, a new movement, a new school of thought. Writers, poets, musicians, artists, filmmakers are changing the landscape of Tibetan arts and literature. For a culture that has craved isolation and remained static over most of the last millennium, this is a revolution. This is the long overdue Tibetan Renaissance.

Shogdung’s book, “གནམ་ས་གོ་འབྱེད་” (Distinguishing Sky from Earth), is one of the hundreds of books and essays written about the Tibetan uprising of 2008. བདེ་སྐྱིད་ནི་རང་དབང་གི་འབྲས་བུ་ཡིན་ལ། རང་དབང་ནི་དཔའ་སྤོབས་ཀྱི་འབྲས་ བུ་ཡིན་ནོ།། Shogdung quotes a Greek scholar at the beginning of the book: “Happiness is the result of freedom; freedom is the result of courage.” The quote sums up Shogdung’s renunciation of fear, which was a step necessary to take before writing anything honest or meaningful.

In a way, the fearlessness that marked the political reawakening of the Tibetan people has contributed to the boldness and brilliance with which the new Tibetan art is bursting into the world. The political movement is feeding the arts, and the arts are feeding the movement right back.

Young Tibetan painters like Gade, Gongkar, Rigdol, and Pekar are dancing on the canvas of modernity with brushstrokes that invoke as well as challenge tradition. Musicians like Yadong and Kunga and Sherten and JJI have electrified the Tibetan masses with lyrics that resonate in our hearts, from the Tibetan grasslands and nightclubs through the exile landscape. Writers like Shogdung, Shogjang, Gangnyi, Tsundue, Bhuchung, Tsering Wangmo, Drugmo, Mountain Phoenix, and of course Woeser, are finally putting into words the unfathomable pain, the occasional joy, and the constant yearning that mark our oppressed or exiled life.

This is the incredible power of Tibetan renaissance. We don’t have the hard power of guns and tanks, but we have the soft power of culture and creativity. Chinese authorities can put on the most expensive expo ever in Shanghai, but they cannot create a cultural renaissance in China. The fact that this Tibetan renaissance is taking place at a time of extreme repression in Tibet makes it all the more significant and powerful.

Let’s continue this renaissance. Let’s read more, write more, paint more, travel more, dream more, love more. Khampa youths shall get on the bus and travel to all corners of Tibet, stopping in Lhasa for breakfast, Gyangtse for dinner. Utsangwas shall go to the farthest reaches of Amdo till you hit the bumper of Mongolia – look, Tso Ngonpo is waiting for you. Let’s see our beautiful country, let’s start our own beat generation.

Appeals to forego Losar celebrations spread via text messages, blogs and word of mouth. On Losar, Tibetans stayed at home and ignored the fireworks, defying authorities who wanted them to sing and dance for state media. Overnight Tibetans turned silence — generally a sign of submission — into a weapon of resistance. The No Losar movement was nothing short of civil disobedience in full bloom.

On February 14, Tibetans will again greet Losar with an air of defiance — many are planning not to celebrate while others will embrace cultural traditions as an act of subversive resistance. A couple of days later, US President Obama will meet with His Holiness the Dalai Lama, sending a signal of hope to Tibetans everywhere. The 2008 Tibetan uprising may now seem a distant memory, but the dust of resistance is far from settled. With the new year, a different kind of storm brews over the Tibetan plateau.

Tibetans from Lhasa and Lithang to Markham and Ngaba have been engaging in experimental forms of nonviolent resistance in the tradition of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. Though China’s intensified repression has created the illusion of normalcy, Tibetans are ushering in a grassroots revolution — one that strengthens Tibetan nationhood and undermines the structure of Chinese colonialism.

This quiet revolution is perhaps best symbolized by Lhakar — a movement whose name means White Wednesday. It’s no secret the Dalai Lama was born on a Wednesday. Every week on this day, a growing number of Tibetans in urban and rural Tibet are making a political statement by wearing traditional clothes, speaking Tibetan, performing circumambulations, eating in Tibetan restaurants and buying from Tibetan-owned businesses.

As a direct response to China’s crackdown following the 2008 Tibetan uprising, Lhakar allows Tibetans to channel their protest spirit into other methods of resistance that are self-constructive (e.g. promoting Tibetan language, culture and civil society) and non-cooperative (e.g. refusing to support Chinese institutions and businesses).

In the fight for human rights and independence, Tibetans have routinely used the most visible form of resistance: street demonstrations. But since Beijing put the streets under lockdown, the resistance has moved indoors into private space. Lhakar participants practice Tibetan tradition in their homes, exercising whatever limited rights they have in their daily lives to strengthen their political, cultural and social identity.

These individual actions, taken collectively in such bastions of resistance as Kardze and Ngaba in eastern Tibet, have compromised Chinese businesses and prompted more than a few Chinese settlers to leave Tibet. In one particular town, all Chinese shops are said to have closed except for one that sells CDs of Dalai Lama teachings. Though humble in scale, these noncooperation tactics evoke Gandhi’s boycott of British textile and are inspiring thousands to action.

According to the 2009 Freedom House survey of over 200 countries and territories, Tibet ranks as “least free” both in political rights and civil liberties. In this environment, noncooperation tactics are often more suitable than protest tactics; they lower the risk of arrest. You can punish people for protesting in the streets, but how do you punish someone for staying at home?

Ever since the late 1960s when the last of the Tibetan guerillas buried their guns at Mustang base in Nepal, Tibetans have remained loyal to the principles of nonviolence. After four decades, strategy and execution are catching up with the principles.

In an epic case of nonviolent triumph over tyranny, villagers in Markham in eastern Tibet won a victory reminiscent of the Civil Rights Movement in their strategic use of nonviolence and demonstration of courage. Like many other Tibetan towns, Markham became a target of China’s resource extraction industry in 2007. The pollution from Zhongkai Co.’s mining operation poisoned the local water, and yaks and sheep began losing their hooves. By May 2009, 26 humans and 2460 cattle had died in Markham as a result of Zhongkai. The residents petitioned and protested against the company, without success.

On May 16, 2009 they raised the stakes – not by marching in the streets but by sitting on it. Using this intervention tactic, 500 Tibetans linked arms and sat down, blockading the only road to the mining site. The authorities responded predictably, sending armed police to clear up the situation. The Tibetans did not budge. The police announced they would shoot those who didn’t disperse. But the blockaders had taken a collective pledge to “do or die.” When the authorities realized they had only two options — massacre all 500 Tibetans and create an international publicity disaster or shut down the mining operation — they buckled. On June 8th the Chinese authorities agreed to cease the mining operation, handing the Tibetans an unprecedented victory.

Fifty years after Chinese troops marched into Lhasa, Tibetans are marching in Gandhi’s footsteps, demonstrating not only courage but also a deeper understanding of strategic nonviolence as they fight for fundamental rights in small, winnable battles. Markham, Lhakar and the No Losar movement are but three examples that represent a new era of activism in Tibet where Tibetans are more strategic and relentless. China may patrol the streets but it’s the Tibetans who control the resistance.

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This article appeared in the Global Post