Tibet: The Last Months of a Free Nation India Tibet Relations (1947-1962) : Part 1

Introduction

It is deeply irritating to read the history of the Indian sub-continent based on the British, American, Russian or Chinese primary sources. It is particularly annoying when the documents come from CIA sources, which end up proving that the CIA ‘did everything’.

One cannot blame the historians who use these sources as it is today practically impossible to access the Indian Archives.

Due to an antediluvian mindset, no declassification system has been put in place since Independence. It is not that the declassification process is not governed by a Law. A legislation exists: all documents older than 25 years need to be declassified, unless there is a serious security angle to prevent it.

The Public Record Rules, 1997, state that records that are 25 years old or more must be preserved in the National Archives of India (NAI) and that no records can be destroyed without being recorded or reviewed. Legally, it is mandatory for each ministry or department to prepare a half-yearly report on reviewing and weeding of records and submit it to the NAI. The rules also stipulate that no public records which are more than 25 years old can be kept classified or destroyed by any agency unless it is properly appraised. Unfortunately, this is not done in a proper manner.

As often in India, the Law does not apply to the Government which is above these human contingencies.

The fact remains that this practice is not healthy and often documents end up getting lost in the ministries. Moreover, in most cases, it is not in India’s national interests to keep these old files closed.

Very few in India realise the extent to which history has been confiscated.

The refusal of the Government to release the Henderson-Brooks-Bhagat Report on the 1962 Sino-Indian War is one well-known case.

I could also cite the Gangtok Papers relating to the Political Officer (PO) who overviewed the Indian relations with Tibet, Sikkim, Bhutan and NEFA from Claude White, the first PO (1903), till the merger of Sikkim in 1975. These ‘papers’, though sent from Gangtok to Delhi under CRPF escort in 1976, are said to be ‘lost’; it is a fact that no government official is today able to say where the priceless files have gone.

By a stroke of luck (or good karma), last year I was given the permission to go through the Jawaharlal Nehru Collection, also known as the Nehru Papers at the Nehru Memorial Museum Library. Though the collection only contains what passed through the first Prime Minister’s Office, I was nevertheless able to decently reconstruct what happened to Tibet during the Fateful Year (1950).

Most of the documents in this book are from the JN Collection, except a few which I obtained from the National Archives of India or other sources.

With this compilation, one can read for the first time, Tibet’s tragedy from the Indian view point; indeed it has been a misfortune not only for the Dalai Lama and his people, who lost their country, which till then had lived peacefully (one could say blissfully) ignorant of the great revolutions reshaping the rest of the world, particularly in India and China, but the loss of Tibet as a neighbour was a tragedy for India too.

Though Tibet’s system of governance had serious lacunas (particularly in the interregnum between the two Dalai Lamas), the Land of Snows was free and independent, when in October 1950, Mao’s regime decided to ‘liberate’ it.

‘Liberate’ from what, was the question everybody asked.

Though at that time Delhi did not realise it, it would soon be a tragedy for India too, which suddenly had to live with a new neighbour whose ideology was the opposite of Buddhist values.

It is not well-known, but some wiser Indian officials and politicians immediately saw the implications for India of the change of neighbour. Their advice was however not followed.

This book shall go into these different views within the Indian Government and the weak reactions which followed the invasion of the Roof of the World.

Another side of this tragic episode is that the world, first of all the United Kingdom, which had had regular diplomatic relations with Tibet, decided to keep mum …to avoid another Korean-type conflict. Only the tiny Costa Rica had the courage to take the Tibetan issue to the United Nations.

After the capture of Chamdo on Tibet’s eastern border, the People’s Liberation Army settled down to teach the Tibetans the principles of ‘Liberation’. Sixty-seven years later, the Tibetans still can’t understand. And nobody asked them if they wanted to be ‘liberated’?

The narrative shall start soon after Independence, with a report of Arthur Hopkinson, the first ‘Indian’ Political Officer in Sikkim, on the situation in Tibet and the state of the Indo-Tibet relations after the British left the sub-continent.

It shall continue with a note on the history of the Indian military Escort in Gyantse (and Yatung) and the report of a young Army major’s visit to the Land of Snows in 1949.

The next chapters shall depict the political scene in Tibet before the tempest. Did the Tibetans realise what was going to happen to them during the Fateful Year? Probably not.

Then, I shall go in some detail into the events of the Fateful Year.

This study shall conclude with the signing of the 17-Point Agreement in Beijing in May 1951. The Tibetans say it was inked ‘under duress’. Whether it is true or not, the fact remains that Tibet had lost its Independence …and India had lost a gentle neighbour.

In the process, the case of Tibet was buried in the United Nations too.

It is one of the saddest episodes of the history of modern Asia.

It marked the beginning of the end for the Land of the Dalai Lama.

This book is the first of a series of four books written under the Field Marshal KM Cariappa Chair of Excellence of the United Service Institution of India.

The next volumes will cover respectively, the periods 1951-1954, 1954-1957 and 1957-1962.

1

An Assessment of the Situation on the Roof

of the World

As an ICS officer of the Political Department, Arthur Hopkinson spent most of his career in the North-West Frontier Province, East and West Kathiawar States and Baluchistan. In 1944, he took over as Political Officer (PO) for Sikkim, Bhutan and Tibet.¹ He continued in this post till India’s Independence and, like his colleague Hugh Richardson², he was asked by the Government of India to continue ‘till Indian officers are able to take the frontiers’ mantle.

On August 1, 1948, while visiting Yatung in the Chumbi Valley adjacent to Sikkim, the seasoned officer writes a secret ‘review’ of the situation in Tibet between August 1945 and August 1948 from his camp office.³

We shall quote from this note addressed to Ministry of External Affairs and Commonwealth Relations in Delhi.⁴

Hopkinson writes that in August 1945, there was a vacancy in the Mission at Lhasa. As a result, he had to visit the Tibetan capital as two abnormal difficulties necessitated an immediate visit.

The first issue, the vacancy in Lhasa, was due to the fact that during World War II, Hugh Richardson, the ICS officer who served in Tibet from 1936 to 1940, had been transferred to Western India (today’s Pakistan). After Basil Gould and his party left Lhasa in February 1937, Richardson had remained behind as the first Head of the British Mission in Lhasa. He would return to Lhasa to resume his job only in 1946.⁵

The other difficulty mentioned by Hopkinson was a trade boycott, enforced since several months by the Tibetan government. Hopkinson records that it was announced by the Tibetan Government in a truculent letter. ‘Another outstandingly truculent’ letter denounced the British trying to reassert their legitimacy over what Hopkinson calls, the Assam Tribal area (i.e. the McMahon Line area).

According to the British officer, both communications imputed breach of treaty and indicated an unfriendly Tibetan attitude.

He however admits that for the McMahon Line area the Tibetans are justified only to the extent that we slept over the boundary provisions of the Simla Convention for nearly thirty years and no Tibetan, however highly placed, will ever undertake the onus of publicly acknowledging Indian ownership of territory hitherto regarded by them as Tibetan.

Hopkinson comments that the most we can hope for at present is tacit acquiescence. ⁶

The PO is also keen to get a ‘tacit acquiescence’ of the 1914 Simla Convention: [It] was the objective of my talks with leading individuals at Lhasa and ultimately, of the memorandum presented in January 1946; we insisted on the validity of the Treaty Line inviting them to specify what alterations (if any) they wanted in that line.

As we shall see, the Tibetans were not very forthcoming to take such an important decision during the Minority of the Dalai Lama.

Hopkinson’s two-month stay in Lhasa bore its fruits and backed by steady onward pressure and firmness on the Assam side we succeeded in securing this objective of tacit acquiescence.

This is not exactly true, as during the next two years the issue would continued to haunt the relations between India and Tibet. But thanks to official steadiness and tact, Tibetan opposition became increasingly negligible, writes the PO, who admits, While in Lhasa the matter was never again seriously raised for nearly two years, when circumstances attending the Transfer of Power seemed to give the Tibetans another opportunity of once more raising this old favourite.

However, in 1948, the new effort does not appear prima facie to be very convincing.

The Ban of Cotton Cloth

The second issue to be negotiated was the Tibetan Government’s ban on import from India of all goods which were earlier subjected to export control, particularly cotton cloth.

Hopkinson terms the ban as "stupid, due to ignorance or misunderstanding, played upon by the self-interest of one wealthy and powerful individual, Pangda Tshang⁷; the PO adds: The stoppage involves loss and hardship to numerous Tibetan traders (It is like having a grand meal put in front of you, and not being allowed to touch it, one of them said) as well as to some Indians, and produced interruption, bitterness and friction in the day-to-day relations."

The issue was twice referred to the Tibetan National Assembly with Pangda Tshang trying to oppose, but finally the ban was removed on November 15, 1945. The revocation became effective in January 1946.

Hopkinson concludes in spite of occasional obstruction and difficulties (always traceable to Pangda Tshang), it worked well and with remarkable smoothness.

The PO is unhappy that during war-time, the Tibetan government is inclined to attribute the trade difficulties to the perversity of the Government of India …and the Political Officer in particular. A senior Tibetan Cabinet minister once sarcastically asked: Do European hens lay fewer eggs during the War?

The British were aware of the importance of business to regulate bilateral relations. During his visit in 1935, Sir Basil Gould had promised to do everything to facilitate bilateral trade. Hopkinson affirms: we have deliberately set out to demonstrate to Tibetans the economic and commercial advantages of the connection with India, in order that, when changes should come, the economic and commercial bonds should hold firm, preserving the Indian connection intact against all other stress and strains.

The PO notes that India delivers the goods, – goods that no one else can deliver, – cloth, sugar, kerosene, iron, copper, etc.

He has a point.

Poor communications with Tibet

The Tibetan accusations against the PO are not really fair. Hopkinson says: the Political Officer has deliberately devoted himself (and his staff) to the treadmill of procurement and supply, including, not least, transportation.

The latter is a major issue: "We have, properly speaking, no road link with India; for our truck road is interrupted by a bridge (the Rambi bridge⁸) which vehicles [cannot cross] – its renovation has been annually postponed since 1943; while the sole rail communication, the D.H. [Darjeeling Hill] small gauge railway between Giellekhola and Siliguri, long ago ceased to be able to cope with the traffic."

Further the communication links are often cut during several months at the time of the monsoon: These local visible difficulties the Tibetans readily understand. But they are less appreciative of the difficulties resulting from more remote and less tangible cause, – shortages of goods, shortages of transport, losses on rail, the complications of railway priorities and (more recently) of import licences, exchange control and the like.

The Chinese, when they marched into Tibet, would take decisive actions on a war-footing. They immediately started building roads (including the Qinghai-Tibet and the Sichuan-Tibet highways inaugurated in 1954) as well as the Aksai Chin road (through Indian territory) which would be completed in July 1957.

Hopkinson mentions additional Indian difficulties, the disorganisation resulting from strikes (e.g. Tatas’ strike, the Calcutta Post strike, the Post Office strike) and from losses in transit and in one case improper official requisition of goods en route.

He also notes wholesale pilfering en route and a double customs and import/export regime with all the scope that this gives to petty officialdom, allegedly only too ready to treat trade as a crime or a milch-cow.

Hopkinson feels that all the trade restrictions should be abolished: The traders whom I have been meeting on the road in Tibet talk of trade being strangled.

Despite all these difficulties and complaints, trade is thriving; for example the wool figures for 1947-48 were highest in the last 3 years: Wool for export is now at a premium.

But there is another side to the medal, writes Hopkinson: It is common knowledge that every Tibetan is at heart a trader: the commercial instinct is no creation of ours.

The PO comments that during the War and immediately after, the facilities for easy and cheap procurement provided by the control system, the high prices offered by China and later by Nepal accelerated the tempo and created a get-rich-quick atmosphere that tended to debauch and demoralize Tibetans (not all Tibetans) of all classes.

The British officer admits that a Tibetan who, on account of his supposed position or supposed political usefulness past or future, secured from the Political Officer an allotment of 100 maunds (3732.42 Kg; one maund being equal to 37.32 Kg) of cloth, could immediately without a hand’s-turn convert that allotment into Rs.20,000/- cash down, adding the local moralist (quite rightly) deplored it, but simultaneously, sinking scruples, applied to the Political Officer on behalf of his own particular friends.

The rat race for money by a certain class of Tibetans considerably weakened the State after India’s Independence. But the PO could not be held responsible for the state of affairs, even though the habit to offer ‘incentives’ to Tibetan officials ‘in a position to help’ was certainly not healthy.

To add to the difficulties, the influx of philistines, tourists pouring along the trade route, made things worse.

It had a demoralizing effect and someone who would never have dreamt of doing so before, now stick out the hand and use the word ‘buckshish’, a word previously unknown.

The largesse of the PO’s Office was certainly not helping to make Tibet a responsible State.

The PO mentions some other serious issues such as trafficking of women from Tibet to Calcutta. He also notes that a person who returns to Tibet after a period of absence is struck by the deterioration in taste and production. Much of the stuff that Tibetans proudly bring back nowadays from China is appalling. But their own productions e.g. in the way of carpets have equally deteriorated. Hopkinson attributes this to the ‘synthetic days’ and the fact that even bad quality stuff ‘commands a good price’.

And this was before the ‘Made in China’ days.

The Good Side of Old Tibet

Despite these ‘difficulties’, Tibetan manners were outstanding, he says. There is little crime even among ‘the large collection of Tibetan muleteers at Kalimpong’: "Muleteers are nowhere Saints, but a collection of Tibetan mulemen at Kalimpong would compare well with a corresponding collection of say, Powindas at Jamrud⁹."

Hopkinson compares the Tibetans to the Pathans of the NorthWest Frontiers¹⁰: without being showy or swash-bucklers like the Pathans, they are just as virile and muscular. …They are not prepared to stand nonsense, but without being aggressive, offensive or vindictive. They have knives and they like a gamble, but they do not, like Pathans, conclude their gambling parties with a stab in the belly.

He concludes: Tibetans are above all friendly and cheerful. …They sing invariably at their work, the labourer, the mason, the ploughman, in all the field operations, the lonely shepherd-boy on some wind-swept mountain-side and all sing tunefully.

The PO recalls a park where he camped near Shigatse: It was like a musical-box in the early morning, as people passed by singing: even the criminals tightly shackled and let loose to beg their food, supporting themselves with sticks shuffled along the road, singing at the top of their voices.

It continues till the night, all the camp-followers slid about in the cold and muddy lake that marked the site of our camp, wet to the waist, all spontaneously singing.

Hopkinson cites the great saint and poet Milarepa: One of the favourite Tibetan saints is always portrayed, seated, in a thin cotton garment, his hand to his ear and his mouth wide open, singing lustily.

This too shows a certain ‘natural kindliness cum commonsense’ of the Tibetans, believes Hopkinson: Instead of applying the whip to his horse’s rump, the Tibetan horseman, when he wants to accelerate, displays it to the horse’s eye, and the horse, brought up in Tibet, accelerates.

This can be considered a great compliment from the British.

Good Manners Endangered?

As he prepared to return to his native island, the British civil servant however notices some signs that Tibetan good manners are getting endangered as a result partly of the increased contacts with philistines from without, partly of the increased commercialism and partly,he feared, also because of the so-called European education.

Hopkinson mentions the story of the English school which was opened in Tibet, before he took over from Basil Gould in Gangtok in 1944. It was the second time in twenty years that a school was opened at Tibetan behest. The first was in Gyantse, this time it was in Lhasa. Both times it had been almost immediately closed in deference, it was said, to conservative prejudice against such a disturbing element.

Ironically one of the Tibetans responsible for the closure was a high official who had sent his son to a European school in Darjeeling. Later the same official sent another of his kids to India for schooling.

Hopkinson writes that the direct consequence of the closure of the Lhasa school is that a spate of Tibetan children (to the tune of thirty or more)were sent to European schools at Darjeeling or Kalimpong.

According to the PO, most Tibetans did not realise that it was ‘a far more disruptive step’. He says: "These institutions, Belgian Jesuit or American, are founded on the underlying idea of racial, religious or cultural superiority, on the supposed superiority of the Vatican or Salt Lake City to the Potala, of store-suits to chubas, of forks to chop-sticks."

Hopkinson rightly notes that these institutions set out, with the kindliest of motives, ultimately to denationalise them. It cannot be good for children to be kept away from their own homes, religion and culture for four years or more, forced into foreign clothes, taught (by their fellows rather than their masters) to despise their own country, until (as has actually happened) a boy tries to disown that he is a Tibetan.

How true it was! How many Tibetans (or Indians) realise this today?

It is courageous for an officer of the British Empire to write this in an official report.¹¹

Tibet’s Immense Popularity

At the time of Indian Independence, another problem is the spate of people wanting to visit the interior of Tibet. English, French, Canadian, Australian, American, Mexican, Greek, Danish, Italian, Malay; not to mention the direct approaches, of which we do not always hear, received in the Dalai Lama’s fan-mail.

Hopkinson says that an important lady diplomat in Delhi told him: Of course, I’m going: it is good for them.

But he remarks that the Tibetans take a different view.

The Problem of the Minority

A far more serious issue is that no individual in Lhasa is willing to undertake responsibility or take a lead, and (as the Chinese representative complained to my predecessor) it is difficult to find where plenary power lies.

Hopkinson realised this when he first visited Lhasa in 1945 to discuss the McMahon Line with the Tibetan authorities. Three years later, he notes: Doubtless as the result of a long minority regime, Tibet has for several years had a Government weak and for the most part ineffective, ignorant and perplexed amid the changes and chances of this wicked world, composed for the most part of individuals interested in their own personal profit, but at the same time patriotically anxious to preserve Tibet’s special status: apt to seek defence in procrastination, in temporisation and obscurity of language.

Ultimately this cost Tibet its independence.

Hopkinson cites the ‘notorious Reting¹² affair of 1947’, but also ‘the Sera Med conspiracy of 1944’ and ‘the conspiracy of Rapga¹³, for some years established in Kalimpong as a paid a Chinese Agent.

Hopkinson mentions: [after] Tibetan pursuit party had erroneously liquidated the wrong man, the Sera Med Abbot made his way to China, so did Rapga, who was given all the incriminating documents at the time of his deportation,thereby depriving the Tibetan Government of much interesting information.

These ‘conspiracies’ would later be used by China.

Rapga was financed by the Guomindang; he believed that China meant progress, while British India was the opposite. The symbol of his Party was a crossed sickle and Khukri.

Hopkinson writes: In spite of Chinese favour – a regular stipend, a long interview with the Generalissimo, the patronage of Mr. TL Shen, [and] a Chinese title, Rapga seems to have been a stupid and inefficient agent, thanks, it has been suggested, to opium.

All this is very sad indeed.

Hopkinson also mentions the demand by the Tibetan Government for a broadcasting service in Tibetan and efforts were made to this end, but never got beyond the experimental stage.

The PO then suggests that it is not worth pursuing unless at least (which has not been the case) the Tibetan Government are willing actively to co-operate by deputing suitable personnel.

The PO is however impressed by The Melong, the first Tibetan language newspaper published from Kalimpong by Tharchin Babu, a missionary originally from Kinnaur. He believes that: help and encouragement [from the Indian Government] is desirable. …Now promoted from a broken-down litho-machine to a regular printing press, this paper has progressed greatly, not without effort applied from without. It has proved its popularity and usefulness, which further effort and patience will develop greater potential usefulness; not the least, it discourages hostile journalistic efforts like that planned by Rapga.

The Thirteenth Dalai Lama was said to be a subscriber of the publication in the early 1930s.

Tibet Political Isolation

On the political level, Tibetan efforts to contact the ‘outside’ world have been ‘pathetic’ according to Hopkinson: owing partly to inexperience, partly to carelessness in the choice of representatives, partly to neglect in the important matter of interpreters.

He points out that the 1946 Goodwill Mission at least established Tibet’s individual right to send such a mission, in spite of Chinese efforts to the contrary: In spite also of the unnecessary false appearance and embarrassments created by their misguided attendance at the Chinese National Assembly. He having learnt from the 1946 experience, the Trade Delegation of 1948 avoided attendance at the next Assembly in Nanking.

The PO continues: Many Tibetans seem to regard the Tibetan Trade Delegation now in America with amusement, distrust, or a certain amount of jealousy, as a party of individuals out for their own and their friends’ private profit, rather than a national delegation.

Interestingly Hopkinson recalls the talks he had in the winter of 1945 in Lhasa with the Chinese Representative, TL Shen who a year earlier had told Basil Gould that the Chinese had been on the point of taking forcible measures with Tibet.

According to Shen, the real obstacle to settlement of the Sino-Tibetan border issue was the likelihood of British aggression in Tibet.

The PO mentions that his talks with the Chinese official led nowhere, merely being ‘exploratory’ so far as Shen was concerned. Soon after, Shen left for India to block the Tibetan Goodwill Mission (or take control of it).

Hopkinson observes that for years an agreement between Tibet and China seemed desirable: The Government of India have withdrawn their former objection to direct discussions between Tibet and China without being consulted or informed. But it continues to be obvious that, in spite of liberal-sounding Chinese announcements, the sole obstacle to settlement is continued Chinese intransigence.

The PO believes that the Chinese would accept nothing short of complete Tibetan surrender: Nor likewise has the change of regime in India induced them to tone down their claims on Indian Territory in Assam.

He concludes that Communist or Nationalist rulers have the same irredentist attitude.

Hopkinson quotes Charles Bell who had predicted that after India got Independence, Tibet might move away from Indian into a closer federal relationship with China and during the period before the transfer of power the report was [that] Independent India intended to ‘sell out’ to Chinese imperialism over Tibet.

The day-to-day work was more ‘overshadowed’ by the weak Regency and the constant infighting between the different sections of the Tibetan society throughout part of 1946 and the first seven months of 1947.

Under these circumstances British officers in London and Delhi are not keen to deal with Tibet. In Hopkinson’s words, there was an all-too-brief sunshine interval [when] Tibet had become the Cinderella of the then Indian Foreign office.

The PO probably refers to the invitation to attend the Asian Relations Conference held in Delhi in March 1947. He writes: In early 1947 the then Indian Foreign office proposed that India’s future role vis-à-vis Tibet should be that of a benevolent spectator, and shortly afterwards transmitted instructions (in deference to a Chinese protest) to recall an invitation issued to Tibet to the Inter-Asian Relations Conference.

Eventually a delegation from Lhasa participated but according to some accounts the map of Tibet was removed during the Conference.

The wishy-washiness of Nehru’s Interim Government did not help secure the friendship with Tibet and even less the security of the borders: A little later [the Government] issued an instruction, which would have smashed the apparatus on which Tibet depended for the wholesale procurement and distribution of controlled goods.

Why? According to Hopkinson, the continued existence of Government’s establishments in Tibet and Sikkim was in doubt: staffs were anxious about their own future.

The establishment in Tibet consisted of the Indian Mission in Lhasa and the Indian Trade Agencies in Gyantse, Yatung and Gartok, and the military escort to which the ITA in Gyantse and Yatung were entitled.

We shall look at this issue in a separate chapter.

Hopkinson nevertheless says: Fresh troops arriving in the spring of 1947. Escorts Reliefs had been told that they would be the last in a succession of over 40 years. The Indian Foreign office refused to send up an officer for the training that was essential if continuity was to be preserved.

As a small mercy, the bureaucracy is trained to continue with or without orders: without mandate Government’s officers sought to prepare the way for a smooth transition at Lhasa and normal continuity afterwards.

In July 1947, a letter is finally sent from Delhi to Lhasa informing the Tibetan Government that the Government of India was the successor of the British.

We shall come back to it.

The Tibetans would eventually take nearly a year to answer the communication: The delay was unfortunate, as also the lack of clarity at that time in respect of the continued legal validity of the treaties.

But the bureaucracy in Lhasa is far worse: In respect of temporization and lack of clarity the Tibetan Government need no coaching and when they ultimately did reply to the Government of India they gave an obscure and evasive answer. Further enquiry merely produced after a further delay another equally baffling reply – I am sure now that the Tibetan Government had no intention of creating a break, or anything like it, with India, the situation was novel to them. They wanted to play for time, to see how stable this new phenomenon, Independent India, was and meanwhile, to put things to the test, they ventured, by way of ‘try-on’, a tweak at the Tiger’s tail, while the Tiger was supposed to be suffering from indigestion, and the Chinese Dragon was otherwise preoccupied.

More details on the Tibetan ‘games’ later.

Retrospectively, it certainly cost Tibet its independence.

Hopkinson remarks that eventually commonsense prevailed not without extraneous aids. He adds: some important individuals had practical reason to realise the implications of the lesson, Tibetan dependence in economic and commercial matters on India, before concluding: Tibet has now given the requisite assurances. The hesitations and uncertainties of 1947 are now, happily, of the past. Tibet does indeed want to reciprocate India’s friendly feelings: and all appears set fair for the future of Indo-Tibetan relations.

Hopkinson’s note ends with a commentary on the status of Bhutan: the lapse of Paramountcy had no relevance to and was not communicated to Bhutan.

Here too, the Interim Government delayed informing the Druk King: Eventually only in the month preceding the transfer of power, over the signature of the Political Officer, the Maharaja of Bhutan, who had been the recipient of communications from Viceroys and the King Emperor himself, received brief notice. The Bhutanese, the soul of courtesy themselves, felt the manner in which a relationship, affectionately cherished for over 80 years, was terminated, though the step was doubtless inevitable.

Events would never be the same in the Himalayas.

1   According to the biography in the Tibet Album of the Pitts River Museum: "Arthur J. Hopkinson was born in Sunderland in 1894 into an ecclesiastical family, his father being Canon George Hopkinson. He was educated at the English public school, Marlborough College, and then at Exeter College, University of Oxford. During the First World War he was made a Captain in the Durham Light Infantry.

In 1920 Arthur Hopkinson entered the Indian Civil Service, where he remained until 1948. Initially he was based in the United Provinces in India but from 1924, upon transfer to the Foreign and Political Department, he went to Gyantse in Tibet as Assistant Political Officer for Sikkim, Bhutan and Tibet with responsibilities also as British Trade Agent in Gyantse. …In 1944 Arthur Hopkinson returned to Sikkim and Tibet as Political Officer of Sikkim, Bhutan and Tibet. He was in the post at the time of India’s Independence from U.K. in 1947 and remained in Gangtok until after Independence as Indian Political Officer, leaving the sub-continent in 1948.

2   Hugh Edward Richardson (b. 1905); entered ICS, 1930; British Trade Agent, Gyantse, and Head of British Mission, Lhasa, 1936-40 and 1946-47; Indian Trade Agent, Gyantse and officer-in-charge, Indian Mission, Lhasa, 1947-50; author of Tibet and its History (1962) and A Cultural History of Tibet (1968).

3   The note is available at the National Archives of India, New Delhi.

4   This note is available at the National Archives of India, New Delhi.

5   He received an Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (OBE) in 1944 and a Companion of the Indian Empire (CIE) in 1947.

6   It is only in February 1951 that Maj Bob Khathing brought Tawang under Indian administration. The protests will be feeble, as we shall see.

7   Or Pandatsang.

8   Near Kalimpong.

9   In Khyber Agency, today in Pakistan.

10 Hopkinson spent most of his carrier in the North-West Province.

11 Hopkinson’s biography says: Upon leaving government service, Arthur Hopkinson trained for the priesthood, wanting to become an Anglican priest and in 1950 he was ordained in York Minister. Between 1950 and 1953 he worked first as Curate in Whitby in North Yorkshire and then, in the last year of his life, as Vicar of Aislaby, a small town near Whitby. It was there that he died in 1953.

12 Reting Rinpoche, the Regent.

13 Pandatsang.

2

Indian Military Escorts in Tibet

Little is known of the history of the Indian Escort posted in Tibet¹; between 1947 and 1955, the strength of the Escort was about 80 officers and troops, which included two or three signalmen and a few medical personnel from the Army Medical Corps, manning the hospitals in Gyantse, Lhasa and Yatung. The bulk of the Escort was posted in Gyantse in the Fort; it would remain in Tibet till early 1955.

Background of the Indian Escorts in Tibet

According to a note prepared by the Historical Division of the Ministry of External Affairs in the 1950s, the posting of an armed escort at Yatung trade mart was first discussed in 1893² in connection with the opening of the first trade mart in Tibet.³

Even though the terms of the Regulations did not provide for the posting of an escort, the desirability of providing one to the officer posted at Yatung to supervise the Indo-Tibetan trade was examined. It was one of the details to be negotiated with Lhasa for the opening of the Yatung mart.

The historical note explains the background and the scruples of the British rulers: Later on, however, in order to avoid any ill-feeling or suspicion of Tibetans even the officer who went to Yatung to attend to the details connected with the opening of the mart was not allowed to take an escort and had to be satisfied with an escort provided by the Chinese representatives.⁴

But in those days, business was dangerous for the British: The Indian Government had to examine again the desirability of posting a military escort at the trade mart due to hostile attitude of the Tibetans towards the mart and the development of trade relations.⁵

In 1896, Delhi was under the impression that despite the helpful attitude of the Chinese representatives, the Tibetans completely violated the spirit of the Convention of 1890 and of the trade regulations of 1893 and effectively prevented even the formation of trade mart.⁶

Obviously, the Tibetans had not been informed of the 1890 Convention related to Tibet. It was, therefore, logical that Lhasa would not allow the opening of a Trade Mart, and tolerate even less the presence of an armed escort on the Tibetan soil.

The Larger Meaning of the Escort in Gyantse

It is important to understand the larger meaning of the British (and later Indian) contingent posted in Gyantse.

The first purpose of the escort was the protection of the British Trade Agent (BTA) in Yatung and Gyantse.

But another issue soon came into play: the prestige of the Empire vis-à-vis the Tibetan government and the Chinese too.

Richardson in his Tibetan Précis, has put the issue in proper perspective.⁷

A year before the Younghusband Expedition the situation was thus explained: Although the possibility of a Russian invasion of India may not have been taken very seriously in high places, Russian activities were proceeding vigorously in Central Asia and Manchuria and the prospect of Russian influence in the capital of an unfriendly Tibet, where we ourselves had no representation, was sufficiently unpleasant. The Government of India accordingly proposed in January 1903 that a mission with an armed escort should be sent to Lhasa to settle our future relations with Tibet and to establish a British representative there.⁸

A year later, the ‘armed escort’ turned into a full-fledged military invasion by a young Colonel Francis Younghusband. In 1903, to tackle the issue London hoped of putting an end to the stultifying procedure by which the Tibetans and Chinese were able to play off one against the other in their dealings with us, but recognising the need for respecting Chinese sensitivities about the fiction of their suzerainty, they proposed that if a treaty could be negotiated, the same ought to be signed by a Tibetan representative as well as by a Chinese.

At that time, London’s main objective was to have a Convention or a Treaty binding on all the parties: It was to be made clear that there was no political or territorial objective in the proposed mission but that it was exclusively for commercial purposes and for establishing friendly relations between neighbours.

The British kept the Chinese in the loop and the possibility of tri-partite talks was discussed: The Chinese had recently agreed that if Yatung was considered unsuitable for negotiations they were willing to negotiate at any place acceptable to us. The Government of India proposed Khampa Dzong, on the Tibetan side of the northern border of Sikkim as the meeting place and recommended that our representative should have an armed escort of 200 men while reserves would be kept ready in Sikkim.

The proposed talks did not happen because the Tibetans were not informed; His Majesty’s Government was perhaps trying to negotiate again an agreement without informing the Dalai Lama’s Government.

The Younghusband Expedition

In 1904, the military expedition of Colonel Francis Younghusband in Tibet changed the scenario. The officer reached Lhasa in July and on September 7, a Convention, the first one between Tibet and British India, was signed in the Great Audience Hall of the Potala between Younghusband and the Ganden Tri Rinpoche.⁹ The latter represented the Dalai Lama who a few days earlier, had left the Tibetan capital towards Mongolia.

Senior British officers including Claude White, the Political Officer in Sikkim, members of the Tibetan Kashag¹⁰ and the abbots of the three Great Monasteries were in attendance.

The Convention sealed the military defeat of the Tibetans, though later they would realise that it was not a bad bargain for them. As the Tibetan historian Shakabpa wrote: It is quite clear that the British were dealing with Tibet as a separate and independent state, particularly since the 1904 convention makes no reference to China or to Chinese authority in Tibet. The Manchu Amban, the Bhutanese representative, and the Nepalese officer merely witnessed the signing of the Convention, but did not sign it themselves.¹¹

The Preamble admitted that doubts and difficulties have arisen as to the meaning and validity of the Anglo-Chinese Convention of 1890, and the Trade Regulations of 1893.

In signing the Convention, the Tibetan Government agreed that no concessions for railways, roads, telegraphs, mining or other rights, could be granted to any Foreign Power. This was in all likelihood a reply to the presumed Commercial Agreement of 1902 between China and Russia.

The Younghusband expedition clarified another point: the Russian presence in Tibet, which had been the pretext of the mission, was nonexistent.

Opening of Trade Marts

The British had decided to open the trade with the Roof of the World. Trade was the main purpose of the Convention.

Article II stipulated: The Tibetan Government undertakes to open forthwith trade mart to which all British and Tibetan subjects shall have free right of access at Gyantse and Gartok, as well as at Yatung. The Regulations applicable to the trade mart at Yatung, under the Anglo-Chinese Agreement of 1893, shall, subject to such amendments as may hereafter be agreed upon by common consent between the British and Tibetan Governments, apply to the marts above mentioned. In addition to establishing trade marts at the places mentioned, the Tibetan Government undertakes to place no restrictions on the trade by existing routes, and to consider the question of establishing fresh trade marts under similar conditions if development of trade requires it.

On September 23, the British expedition left Lhasa to return to India. It was the beginning of a new phase in the political relations between British India and Tibet. Captain O’Connor remained in Gyantse as the first Trade Agent. He was thereafter ‘entitled’ to a military escort. During one of his first visits to the Tashilhunpo monastery in Shigatse, he befriended the young Panchen Lama.

The note of the Historical Division mentioned earlier reads: Later on when the convention between Great Britain and Tibet 1904 was signed a clause was inserted according to which the Tibetan Government undertook to open trade marts at Gyantse, and Gartok as well as at Yatung. It was stipulated that the Regulations applicable to the trade mart at Yatung, under the Anglo-Chinese Agreement of 1893, should, subject to such amendments as might be agreed upon by common consent between the British and Tibetan Government, apply to the marts at these places.

Again no specific provision for the posting of an escort had been made. The note continues: However, taking advantage of the presence on Tibetan soil, of the British troops sent with the Younghusband Mission, the Government of India decided in September 1904 to leave a small force as escort for the Trade Agent, Gyantse, before withdrawing the rest of the troops to India.¹²

The Trade Agent at Yatung was officially provided with an escort: The unsatisfactory law and order situation in Tibet necessitated trade representatives to keep armed escorts for their personal protection. The Gurkha representative posted by Nepal Durbar at Lhasa to supervise their trade relations had an armed escort of Gurkha soldiers.¹³

The escort of the British Trade Agent in Gyantse would remain till Indian Independence and continue till 1955.

The Agreement of 1907 with Russia

In 1907, an understanding between the Russian and the British Empire was reached. The Agreement, called The Convention between Great Britain and Russia relating to Persia, Afghanistan and Tibet, was signed at St. Petersburg on August 31, 1907.

The