The Qing’s Administrative Ghost Town: Tibet
Imagine a kingdom where officials are supposed to govern but don’t actually exist on paper. Welcome to Tibet under the Qing Dynasty—China’s equivalent of administrative Narnia. According to the Qing’s meticulous documentation of every blade of grass and grain of rice in their realm, Tibet somehow never made the cut. The Great Qing Code of Regulations is so detailed it probably lists the preferred teacup of each official, yet when it comes to Tibet, it’s as if the scribes ran out of ink. Not a single mention of a Qing official heading to Tibet—probably because imaginary journeys don’t require documentation.
And why bother with Tibet? It’s only the strategically vital high ground bordering the fiercest empire-builders of the age (hello, British colonial empire?). The Qing’s approach was more like: “If we ignore it, maybe it will govern itself?” And govern itself it did, which brings us to the quizzical nature of Qing support or the lack thereof during British incursions.
British Footprints in Tibetan Snow-
Fast forward to the British Empire sniffing around the Himalayas like a colonial bloodhound. The Qing’s reaction to the British making moves on Tibet was akin to a shrugging emoji. Historical accounts from the era detail the fierce resistance by Tibetans and the tepid ‘support’ from the Qing, which was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. The British, unimpressed by Qing’s flimsy claims and fortified by their own cannons, leased, borrowed, and bargained their way into Tibet.
As the 13th Dalai Lama rallied his troops against British advances, the Qing were busy drafting documents that no one in Tibet read. The subsequent treaties and concessions to the British by the Qing were like signing away rights to the moon—ceremonial and utterly devoid of practical impact, except on paper, where it seems everything could be made ‘official.’
Theatrical Sovereignty and International Law Charades-
Leap to the 20th century, where the newly minted Republic of China decided that Tibet was indeed part of China because a proclamation said so. This was news to the Tibetans and much of the world. It’s reminiscent of someone declaring they own the moon because they yelled it loudest at a party. According to international law (a concept seemingly as flexible as China’s historical narratives), sovereignty is not just about grand declarations but actual control, which China lacked more often than not.
Oh, and let’s not forget the 1913 Mongolian-Tibetan treaty, recognized by absolutely no one except the parties who signed it. It’s like two toddlers trading cookie ownership rights adorable but legally insignificant.
