The Inner Asia and East Asia complex has been the traditional cornerstone of imperial undertaking in Asia. Inner Asia exported organisation and technologies, whereas East Asia provided manpower and money. Hardly is it coincidental that, during their golden eras, the Inner-and-East Asia empires — the Mongolian and the Manchu, for example — relied politically on a minority of Inner Asian organisers and a majority of East Asian tribute-payers; and militarily on a minority of Inner Asian warrior nobility and a majority of East Asian auxiliary troops. Inner Asia’s organisation and technologies, failing East Asia’s manpower and money, could only preserve Inner Asia’s traditional tribal or feudal freedom, but were inadequate to establish and maintain an empire of vast territories and population (not to mention that empires always erode freedom). East Asia’s manpower and money, without sustained input and renewal of organisation and technologies from Inner Asia, inevitably became weakened, out-of-date, incapable of self-defence, let alone preserving the legacies of the founding conquerors.
The significance of Tibetan culture and religion to various Inner Asia nations and empires, can be compared with the Holy See’s influence to the West. The meeting in 1577 between Altan Khan, the Mongolian ruler, and Sonam Gyatso, the 3rd Dalai Lama, analogous to the alliance between Charlemagne and Pope Leo III, underpinned the modern Tibetan-Mongolian relationship. Sonam Gyatso found Altan Khan the patron for Gelug-pa institutions and proclaimed him to be the reincarnation of Kublai Khan; in return, Altan Khan gave the title Dalai Lama to Sonam Gyatsho. The Mongolian played the role of Germanic tribal “barbarians”, using their military power to protect the religion. In more recent times, both the Russians and Manchus played similar roles.
Sitting on the throne of an Inner Asia empire, the Chinese Communist (or Leninist) regime finds itself in an awkward position: the Chinese theory of the Tibet-incorporating zhonghua minzu (the Chinese nation) originates from the Manchu (the Qing Empire) conquest of Inner-and-East Asia; yet China’s rule in Tibet derives its theoretical legitimacy from a revolution which overthrew the Manchus. Moreover, the real organisation and power, with which the Chinese had usurped the Inner-and-East Asia empire, came from the atheist Communist movement. However, only religious protectors are legitimate rulers from the perspective of the predominantly-Buddhist Tibetans.
That the Communists could have successfully taken East Asia was largely because Moscow, their backer, played the role of Inner Asia’s traditional conquerors — by providing organisation and technologies. After betraying Moscow, however, Peking had to rely increasingly on East Asia’s resources, reversing the empire’s founding order of Inner Asia ruling East Asia, and thus gradually losing the legitimacy and power to rule Inner Asia. This also explains the decline of the Mongolian empire after Kublai Khan and the Manchu empire after Qianlong.
Historically, once the Inner-and-East-Asia architecture’s centre of gravity shifted from Inner Asia to East Asia, two consequences ensued: 1) Inner Asian states sought separation or autonomy — or what is known in Chinese as the “betrayal of the four barbarians” — which is the norm of regime or dynasty change in East Asia; and 2) new conquerors replaced old ones and, through invasion, established new Inner-and-East Asia empires. The replacement of the Manchu-Mongolian alliance with the Communists could hardly happen without Russia becoming the heir to the Inner Asia empire.
Now, it is China’s turn to resist the same tide. The Leninist regime, because of its pretension to a nation state and market economy, becomes less effective in instilling terror than in evoking anger. Record amount of money from East Asia only buys more hostility. The Leninist regime’s military technologies, after being cut off its import channel from the West, relied on relatively backward Russia. Today, the ancient balance between Inner Asia and East Asia manifests itself as the complex relationship between Moscow and Peking.
On the surface, Moscow and Peking tacitly divide up Inner Asia between themselves: Moscow supports Peking’s rule over Tibet; Peking supports Moscow’s influence in the five Central Asian states; both serve as each other’s rear support to challenge the West. Nonetheless, the fragile geopolitics of Inner Asia inhibits any long-lasting trust and co-operation between them. Moscow might have to tolerate Western primacy because the West’s advantage is dominant in almost every spheres; yet East Asia’s new-found superiority sustained merely by money — reversing the traditional ruling order between the two regions — would be much less palatable for Moscow. After betraying Peking over Taiwan, Moscow can play the same trick on China over Tibet. After all, Taiwan matters much less to Moscow than Tibet, which relates more directly to Russia’s interests in Inner Asia — its traditional sphere of influence.
If Russia is content to be just a European state, barely would her international stature surpass Poland — this was the situation with the Grand Duchy of Moscow (or Muscocy) before Ivan the Terrible (Ivan IV); if Russia is content to be just an Inner Asia power, scarecely would she fare any better than Turkey or Iran. That Russia is feared both by the West and the East owes to her Eurasian duality. To the West, Russia can tap into the extra resources and the vast and safe backyard offered by Inner Asia, which gives her a distinctive advantage over her European neighbours who, with enemies from all directions, lean on no others but themselves; to the East, Russia can exploit her European technological and diplomatic superiority to prevail over her Asian neighbours, who are more peripheral to the West-dominated international order. Russia cannot afford to forgo either identity to remain a great power.
Russia’s special relationship with Tibetan Buddhism, a pillar in Russia’s Inner Asia affairs, has a long history. The Tsarist Russia was the first European power that had diplomatic contact with Tibet under the 13th Dalai Lama, who leveraged Russia’s patronage to handle the Manchu court (and the Chinese mandarins) and the British Raj during the Great Game. In Tibetan tradition, Shambhala — the mythical kingdom — is widely believed to be in the Kashmir valley, which was long to be a stronghold of Buddhism.Buddhism in Kashmir suffered eclipse and later resurged, which was believed by the Buddhists to be reflecting the cycle of suffering and rebirth, and the spiritual principle that good intent and good deed contribute to good karma and future happiness; it was also believed the future protector of Buddhism would emerge here. Agvan Dorzhiev, a close associate* of the 13th Dalai Lama, believed that the Russian empire fulfilled the Shambhala prophecy, and amongst the great powers, only Russia understood the spirituality of the Tibetan (and Asian) nation. The Tsar afforded shelter to Buddhist monks in Russia, including the Buryats (of which Agvan Dorzhiev is one), as well as to Buddhists from the Qing Empire (no less than how he protected the Christians from the Ottoman Empire).
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Moscow was keen to restore its traditional protector role of Buddhism. For Kalmykia, Tuva and various republics inhabited by Buddhists (mostly Mongolian ethnic groups) in the Russian Federation, how they view Lhasa, the Holy City, bears some resemblance to how Muslims from Tashkent or Punjab views Mecca. Although Buddhist attitude towards secular power differ somewhat from Muslims, various Russian republics and the Mongolia have continued to invite and receive the 14th Dalai Lama. Disrespect towards the 14th Dalai Lama could threaten Russia’s ethnic unity and security as a Eurasian power.
Moscow’s recent belligerence in Crimea, Georgia and Syria further enhances the political standing of the Buddhists in Russia. Amid a rapidly growing Muslim population in Inner Asia, as well as the aging, if not dwindling, ethnic Russian population (over 50% identify themselves as Orthodox), Russia is particularly sensitive to Peking’s “Belt and Road” strategy to cultivate relationship with Inner Asian Muslims. The friendship of Inner Asian Buddhists are precious historical assets for Moscow, and will likely become more valuable over time. Peking’s obstinacy to differentiate the 14th Dalai Lama’s religious activities from the political demands of the Tibetans in exile proves a diplomatic blunder. In comparison, the Manchus, in the empire’s early days, showed more finesse in handling Mongolian and Tibetan affairs.
Should Trump’s new administration remove the obstacle for Moscow to reconcile with the West, Putin would gladly catch the olive branch. The imminent diplomatic revolution will have an impact on Inner Asia’s balance of power, including the Tibet issue. Regardless of what the Tibetans intend, given their relative insignificance in terms of hard power, they will have to cope with a new situation. To relieve their plight, Dharamsala has to be more proactive, adept and decisive than other stakeholders by capitalising on the aforementioned historical resources and diplomatic revolution.
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