by J J Singh
‘The McMahon Line confirmed an obvious geographical frontier to the south of which live a number of tribes most of whom have no close affinity with either Tibetans or Chinese,’ emphasized Hugh Richardson.2 This was undoubtedly one of the most significant achievements of the Simla Conference, although it was underplayed in a big way by Britain at that time. This achievement enhanced the prestige of the British manifold; not only did they gain unrestricted access to Lhasa and a conducive trade environment in Tibet, but also a ‘special position’ and exclusivity as far as ‘political influence’ and Tibet’s dealing with other nations was concerned.3 A decade after 1904, Britain’s relations with Tibet had undergone a paradigm shift. From being once snubbed by the Dalai Lama (before the Younghusband expedition), Britain was, by 1914, in a close embrace with Tibet, to the exclusion of China. The northern boundary of British India, from Kashmir to Burma, was secured against both Russian and Chinese intrusions and intrigues. Inclusion of Tibet in Britain’s sphere of influence was the safest bet for the security of India and the other cis-Himalayan states—Nepal, erstwhile Sikkim and Bhutan.
Britain was by far the biggest beneficiary of the historic but controversial tripartite conference. The north-eastern frontier was secured from Chinese penetration or influence. The agreement provided British trade agents free access to Lhasa, and Great Britain gained a predominant influence on ‘autonomous Tibet’. And with the signing of the new Anglo-Tibet Trade Regulation accord on 3 July 1914 superseding the earlier agreements of 1893 and 1908, a fair amount of commercial benefits accrued to British India, to the exclusion of China and other powers.
The policy of ‘non-interference’ and of leaving the indigenous tribes to their own devices was a conscious decision of the British so that there would exist a loosely administered buffer territory between a peaceful Tibet and India. Britain did not want to extend its administrative reach right up to the Himalayan crest line, as the huge cost of setting up infrastructure there and manning it was disproportionate to the insignificant commercial benefits that would accrue to them. Other than getting forest produce, there was no attraction in venturing into remote and inaccessible frontier areas, whose mineral wealth was yet to be explored. Timber was plentiful in Assam, and the inner line was a device to prevent uncontrolled exploitation of this resource. One also had to contend with the fiercely independent tribes of this region who were profoundly suspicious of outsiders, the inhospitable climate, and a host of pestilential fauna, including mosquitoes, leeches and ‘dim-dam’ flies, whose bite left a painful itch for days.
However, because of Chinese non-acceptance of the Simla Convention, the undeclared war between Tibet and China continued to rage in the Marches in eastern Tibet. This, in a way, defeated one of the principal aims of the tripartite conference—of bringing peace in the Sino-Tibetan frontier region. Peking was not in a position to effectively enforce China’s ‘Tibet strategy’ while it had to also deal with the two frontier provinces of Szechuan and Yunnan, which were determined to follow whatever policies suited them. Despite all this, upon termination of the Great War and even a little prior to that, China took the initiative to restart negotiations with the British, hoping it could secure a better deal for itself. At the same time, China also tried to engage the Dalai Lama in direct talks, using aggressive posturing and threats. The Dalai Lama held his ground, with the tacit support of the British, and advised the Chinese to sign the Simla Convention. On 28 June 1915, the Chinese president conveyed to Jordan that he was prepared to concede Chamdo to Tibet, with the caveat that the phrase ‘Tibet is a part of China’ be mentioned in the text of the convention proper rather than as a note.4 But accepting such changes would portray weakness on the part of the British, and also could not be done without the concurrence of Tibet, so this proposal was rejected. In the meanwhile, Yuan Shih-k’ai’s endeavours to start a new dynasty ended in failure, consuming him too in the bargain. His passing away in 1916 ushered in an era of extreme instability and a state of civil war in Szechuan and Yunnan, in which Tibet got embroiled too. On 23 May 1917, yet another fruitless attempt to reopen talks was made by the Chinese foreign minister.
With some British help in terms of military training, supply of arms and munitions, the Tibetans soon got the upper hand and were able to throw back General Peng Jih-sheng’s forces from Chamdo, Markham, Derge and other areas along the Marches. They were, in fact, able to capture a large number of prisoners, including General Peng, the governor of Szechuan. Although stretched, the Tibetans were poised to take Nyarang and Batang, and even threaten Tachienlu. The situation of the Chinese was so precarious that, to quote Teichmann, ‘another month or two would possibly have seen several thousand more Chinese prisoners in Tibetan hands, and the Lhasa forces in possession of all the country up to Tachienlu’.5
Surprisingly, the Chinese government, though on the back foot, still did not show eagerness to settle their frontier with Tibet. Undoubtedly, they were more concerned with regaining control of the rebellious provinces of Szechuan and Yunnan. The Tibetans, on the other hand, wanted to capitalize on the favourable ground situation consequent to the victories of Kalon Lama’s forces, and thus repeatedly sought the intervention of Sir Eric Teichmann, the British consular official at Tachienlu. They, as also the local Chinese officials and the people of the area, were looking to working out a permanent solution of the boundary issue with China. Teichmann mediated between Kalon Chamba Tendar, the Tibetan general, and Liu Tsan-ting, the Chinese general. On 19 August 1918, an agreement was signed by the three at Chamdo.
The boundary corresponded roughly with the course of the upper Yangtze [and further down along its watershed with Mekong—more or less following the historic frontier during the Manchu period] with China retaining the regions to the east of it, excepting the areas of Derge and Beyul. [This alignment was almost akin to the Blue Line drawn by McMahon in 1914.] The Tibetans, however, retained control of all the monasteries in the areas that passed to the Chinese.6
About two months later, at Rongbatsa, a supplementary agreement was orchestrated by Teichmann, after a lot of behind-the-scenes manoeuvrings. It was signed on 10 October 1918, in the presence of Teichmann, by ‘Han Kuang-chun and the Chakla Gyalpo for the Chinese, and Khenchung Lozang Dondup, Dapon Khyungram, and Dapon Tethong for Tibet’. It called for a ceasefire, withdrawal of troops and a truce for one year, effective from 31 October.7 According to the Rongbatsa truce, ‘China remained in control of Batang, Litang, Nyarong, Kanze and the area to the east of Kanze, while the Tibetans retained Chamdo, Draya, Markham and Derge.’8 Sadly, but unsurprisingly, these agreements were not ratified by the Chinese government, despite the best endeavours of both Jordan and Teichmann, who, in particular, was at this point of time ‘deeply upset by the duplicity and chicanery’ of the Chinese frontier officials.9
16
Tibet: A Political Chessboard; Panchen Lama; Death of Dalai Lama
The First World War came to an end with the signing of the armistice on 11 Novemer 1918. This resulted in the demise of some empires, the redrawing of some boundaries and the creation of new nation states. Great Britain, like most of the other major powers, was reeling under the economic burden of the war. Issues such as Tibet, which had been shoved to the sidelines, once again began to receive attention. The British and the Tibetans were keen to resolve the Sino-Tibet boundary dispute before the Rongbatsa truce expired in October 1919. The Chinese, whose aim appeared to be resumption of negotiations on the basis of the Simla Convention, with some changes, lacked the determination or political cohesion to take the Tibet issue to its logical conclusion. They raised the subject repeatedly almost every year since 1915. In view of the attitude of proctrastination on Peking’s part, Whitehall even advised Lhasa to ‘claim self-determination at the forthcoming Peace Conference at Paris’. Finally, as a result of repeated urging to commence negotiations, the Chinese put forward a proposal in May 1919. This proposal contained four basic demands:
Insertion in the main t
ext, and not in the attached note, of a statement to the effect that ‘Tibet formed a part of China’.
Acknowledgement of Chinese suzerainty over autonomous Tibet in a separate clause.
Chinese commissioners to be positioned at various trade marts in Tibet.
A revised Sino-Tibet boundary that would cede Batang, Litang and Tachienlu to Szechuan, creation of Inner Tibet under greater control of China and to include Derge, Nyarong and southern Kokonor; and the rest of the regions, including Chamdo, Markham, Draya and Gonjo to comprise autonomous Tibet.1
Though this boundary proposal would have benefited China considerably, that too at Tibet’s expense, the British found it acceptable as a starting point. Besides, nowhere was the Chinese frontier marching along north-east India, so the British investments and tea industry in Assam appeared secured. This proposal represented the final stance of the Chinese government on the boundary issue. As can be seen, it did not contain any objection as far as the Indo-Tibetan boundary east of Bhutan was concerned. However, despite some progress, this attempt to ‘renegotiate’ the Simla Convention was abruptly ended by the Chinese themselves. Jordan learnt later that this step was taken under intense pressure from Japan, and possibly also because of the adverse reaction of the Chinese people and likely ‘opposition’ to the proposal from some of the provinces like Yunnan and Szechuan.
It may not be out of place to mention here that Tibet too would most likely have rejected the terms proposed by China. As a matter of fact, on learning of these direct parleys between Britain and China, the Tsongdu (National Assembly) adopted a resolution that was conveyed to the British, in which they categorically ‘rejected the Peking negotiations and the four points raised by China’.2 The Tibetans also insisted that they should be part of any future talks. Fortunately, as we have seen, such a situation did not arise! Summing up his understanding of Chinese negotiating tactics, Jordan told Curzon: ‘The whole history of the Chinese on Tibet and on the Tibetan border … has been one of alternate bullying, chicanery, and intrigue.’3 Nonetheless, the humiliation of the British by the unprecedented termination of these talks led to the recall of Jordan, who, ‘for well-nigh a quarter century, was the most powerful, and influential, man in Peking’s diplomatic corps’.4
In line with their strategy of directly negotiating with the Tibetans and keeping the British out, the Chinese worked behind the scenes to get an unofficial delegation from Kansu to visit Lhasa, to prevail upon the Dalai Lama to have direct talks with Peking. This group, led by Chu Hsien, comprised Kansu officials and important lamas from the famous Kumbum monastery. Although formally not invited by Lhasa, they were given a more than traditional welcome. The mission stayed in Lhasa from January to April of 1920.5 However, the outcome of negotiations was anything but fruitful, as the Dalai Lama felt the Chinese could not be trusted, and desired to conclude no agreement ‘without the presence and cooperation of a British representative’.6
In a face-saving measure, China then disowned this mission and its proposals. The Kansu mission, however, set alarm bells ringing in both New Delhi and London. The British policy on Tibet went through a reappraisal. The British did not want to see a Chinese-controlled Tibet, and with the collapse of the Tsarist Russian Empire, the obstacle to an ‘open door’ policy towards Tibet had disappeared. In a note to Curzon dated 27 April 1920, Alston, the Sectretary of State for India, said, ‘The previous policy of sterilising Tibet had merely played into China’s hands. In fact, an open Tibet would mean a Tibet strengthened and developed under British patronage.’7 Britain thus had to take some concrete steps to shore up its ‘prestige’ in Tibet.
Charles Bell’s mission to Lhasa was the consequence of this new Tibet policy. It was egged on by Bell himself through a series of notes and other correspondence. But it was not before the middle of October 1920 that Whitehall finally gave the go-ahead to Bell to proceed to Lhasa. This order, typical of the British ambivalence on Tibet, contained a number of conditions, and the visit’s duration of one month proved to be unimaginative and woefully inadequate to the task the mission had set out to do. In the event, Bell stayed in Lhasa for almost a year.
Bell was entrusted with rebuilding the close ties fostered between Tibet and British India during the Dalai Lama’s exile in Darjeeling. However, while he was asked to display utmost ‘sympathy’ towards the Tibetans’ pleas for assistance, Bell wasn’t empowered to promise them supply of arms or ammunition. His close personal relations with the Grand Lama and his presence in Lhasa helped re-establish British influence over Tibet, keeping an obdurate China in its place. Bell also obtained intelligence on the direct Sino-Tibetan negotiations, particularly on the outcome of the Kansu mission, and was able to advise British India on their Tibet policy accordingly.
While Bell was welcomed in Tibet, there was a conservative element, incited by the lamas of Drepung, who saw danger in Tibet being opened up to the outer world, and her religion, culture and traditions being influenced adversely. This element preferred that Tibet arrive at an accord with China ‘in order to salvage Tibet’s traditional autonomous state and hopefully, Chinese patronage of Buddhism’.8
At the same time there were also many people in the country who felt the British should assume the role of Tibet’s patron in place of the Chinese, a role the British were clearly unwilling to play. As the Chinese continued to ignore proposals to enter into negotiations with Britain on Tibet on some pretext or the other, the supply of British arms and ammunition to Tibet was resumed on the advice of Bell. The arms came with the stipulation that they would not be used for purposes other than for ‘self-defence’, and an undertaking to this effect was obtained in writing from the Dalai Lama. Bell recommended that in addition to ammunition, 10,000 rifles, twenty machine guns and ten mountain guns be given to Tibet.9 These were to be paid for in instalments in certain cases. Besides this, military training too was imparted to some Tibetan officers and soldiers at Gyantse, and the technique of making gunpowder was taught to them. The British also helped the Tibetans construct a telegraph line from Gyantse to Lhasa. Geological surveys were conducted by Sir Henry Hayden prospecting for minerals in central Tibet, and assistance was provided to the Tibetans for construction of a small hydroelectric plant at Lhasa. Laden La, an experienced officer of the Darjeeling police, who was of Sikkimese origin, was deputed to Lhasa to form a small police force on modern lines. Lastly, a proposal was made to start an English school at Gyantse for the children of the nobility and the elite. This school started in 1924.10 Tibet had to bear the expenses of these development schemes.
The Dalai Lama’s efforts to see that Tibet was modernized were hampered by the resistance offered by the lamas. ‘The richest monasteries were to be found in Lhasa—Drepung, Sera and Ganden—and there were others like Kumbum at Sining and the Panchen Lama’s Tashilhumpo at Shigatse. Without exception, all were unwilling to contribute financially to modernising Tibet.’11 Besides the financial angle, the lamas did not want to help create another power centre comprising the army and the newly reorganized police that could ‘challenge the traditional lamaist theocracy’.12 Nonetheless, the Grand Lama was able to prevail, and overcame the opposition with a heavy hand.
Bell was firmly convinced that a stable, strong and free Tibet was in the best interests of British India, as that would intrinsically provide it a secure northern frontier. In January 1921, Bell cautioned the Indian government that if the British did not come to the help of the Tibetans, they ‘will certainly regard us as having betrayed them, and the influence and power of China on the northern and eastern frontiers of India will in time become greater than ever before’.13 This advice proved to be quite visionary. It was also felt that this rekindling of Anglo-Tibetan ties would spur China to return to the negotiating table. Unfortunately, the unhappy state of affairs in China’s internal administration and its lack of effective control over the outlying provinces of Szechuan and Yunnan did not allow any talks to take place.
Commenting on British aid
to Tibet, Heather Spence has said: ‘When China was weak the deficiency in British support was not important, but as China increased in military strength in the inter-war years of the 1920s and 1930s, the Tibetan government was forced to take the view that there was no alternative but a policy of accommodation with the “New China”. Ultimately, this obliged the Dalai Lama to follow a non-alignment policy.’ Spence had rightly analysed the situation: ‘To encourage Tibet to claim full independence from China would have undercut Britain’s own position in many parts of the world—Egypt, Africa and India.’14 This aspect has had a major influence in the formulation of British imperial policies, particularly during the third and fourth decades of the twentieth century.
During the thirteenth Dalai Lama’s rule, currency notes on handmade paper and, later, postage stamps, were introduced in Tibet for the first time. This was followed by the minting of gold and silver coins. These measures, along with other developments, were indicative of the ‘de facto’ independence of Tibet.15 Describing the Dalai Lama, W.W. Rockhill, the American ambassador to China, said, ‘He is a man of undoubted intelligence and ability, of quick understanding and of force of character. He is broad-minded, possibly as a result of his varied experiences during the last few years, and of great natural dignity.’16
Choskyi Nima, the Panchen Lama, was against the Dalai Lama’s policy of modernization and opening up (even if selectively) of Tibet. His main grouse was that the Tashilhunpo monastery would have to carry forward the Dalai Lama’s initiatives, particularly the maintenance of a larger and better equipped army. Citing Melvyn Goldstein, Warren W. Smith Jr, a scholar of Tibetan history, described how relations between the two lamas ‘were further exacerbated by the requirement placed on Tashilhunpo to bear a quarter of the total financial burden of the army’,17 somewhat like the precedent of the bearing of one-fourth of the expenses incurred during the Sino-Tibetan campaign to throw out the Nepalese from Shigatse and other districts bordering Nepal in 1791. The Panchen Lama appealed to the British government to intervene, but the latter declined to interfere in what was considered an ‘internal’ matter.