The Thumbnail Book Reviews
by John Q McDonald --- 18 July 2013
by Peter Fleming
As the most powerful (arguably) nation on Earth, does America have the right to march into another nation under military escort, to assert our demand that that nation open up its trading markets to us? In today's political world, that isn't any longer acceptible. But in the years of European commercial imperialism of the late 19th century, it was a regular tool of colonial power to insist that "backward" nations subject themselves to European trade demands. It is how they operated, bringing the benefits of Western civilization to undeveloped countries. Today, of course, we merely lure customers to our way of thinking by guaranteeing all the benefits of wealth that are supposed to come with unfettered commerce (and if that doesn't work, claim they hold weapons of mass destruction). Decades later, we respond with chagrin and wounded pride when a nation refuses our advances. And this is how Britain largely responded to Tibetan insistance on its own right to remain disconnected from the rest of the world. In this simplified view, Britain merely claimed the right to force Tibet to accept international trade and borders decided between Britain, Russia and China. And so, to guarantee the arrangement, and in response to Tibetan, and Chinese, reluctance to negotiate, in 1903 they sent a trade mission into that country under armed escort. The jumbled foreign policy, Russian imperial policy in Asia, the logistics of travel through the Himalaya, the stretched lines of communication, the wounded honor of British imperialism, political wrangling at home, and the conflict between prideful characters, all conspired to make this expedition a landmark in tragic action and reaction, an episode many would probably think better left forgotten. However, to this day, this little invasion is cited by historians on all sides of the question of Tibetan sovereignty, as an example of the Western adventurism that makes some Asian nations suspicious of Western motives.
Led by Colonel Francis Younghusband, the trade mission and its escort of thousands of armed soldiers and support personnel, marched with astonishing confidence into the Chumbi Valley and up through Gyantse all the way to Lhasa. On the way, Tibetans put up an antiquated and ultimately pathetic defense that killed hundreds and barely scratched the British. When they arrived, the government's pretext for the military mission had evaporated. There were no Russian armories, no Russian agents, not even any great Chinese presence in the mysterious capitol. What they found was a confused and sequestered medieval city of poverty and civilization. They extracted signatures on a punitive agreement (Why should Tibet indemnify the invading army? What was her provocation?) and quickly withdrew in response to political weakness at home.
The British government acted with stunning arrogance with respect to Tibet, asserting that the tradition of European political exchange must apply to this sovereign Asian nation, and that they had the right to impose this tradition by military force. Tibetan acts of self defense were seen as unprovoked attacks upon British pride, and many hundreds of Tibetans paid for this impertinence with their lives (as they would again and again against the Chinese). Peter Fleming, elder brother of James Bond author Ian, is on board with this British imperial arrogance. Though he writes in 1961, at the start of the dissolution of colonial empire, his viewpoint seems well rested in the past. Of course, in today's political climate, this looks pretty appalling, but nations today still assert their exceptionalism, claiming some right and responsibility to police the world. In the end, Fleming can see that the long term effects of the invasion contributed to a softening of Tibetan sovereignty, ultimately leading to the military and cultural invasion of the Communist Chinese. Writing at the height of Western fears of Communism, Fleming can still see British influence as ultimately only benign, and its withdrawal as the real cause of Tibet's later problems. And so, this book is one-sided. There are cited no Tibetan sources for Fleming's story. However, the book is very well written, an engaging adventure full of intrigue and interesting detail about Younghusband's expedition. A more detailed story of the British side of things is probably not likely to be found. The book, once one sees past the prejudices of its time, is quite remarkable.
(This micro-review refers to the 1962 Readers Union edition.)
See Also: [Younghusband by Patrick French] [Moonraker by Ian Fleming]