A Carnival of Endless China-India Border Talks Since 1981

The Drag of a Dragon

Brahma Chellaney

© Asian Age, April 21, 2007

Coonoor, Tamil Nadu, India  

Yet another round of India-China border talks begins today in what is a 26-year saga of unending negotiations that of late are acquiring an even more laid-back spirit. Breaking the monotony of alternate meetings in New Delhi and Beijing, the two countries’ “special representatives” now confer in holiday hideaways, which have ranged from Kumarakom and Khajuraho in India to Xian in China. The latest meeting is in the hill station of Coonoor, in the Nilgiris.

            As if to publicize that India offers more exotic retreats than China, the Indian government is generously hosting a second consecutive round of talks. It will be remarkable if the Coonoor talks conclude in any way different from the houseboat diplomacy on the Kerala backwaters of Kumarakom — with warm handshakes, a statement applauding the “open, friendly, cooperative and constructive atmosphere,” and a promise to meet again. If stunning Khajuraho, Xian and Kumarakom failed to lift the talks to a higher plane, rugged Coonoor is unlikely to invigorate a wilting process.

         It has been almost 45 years since Mao Zedong’s regime launched a military invasion of India that led Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru — the world’s best-known panda-hugger until then — to make a national broadcast denouncing China as a “powerful and unscrupulous opponent.” That surprise aggression, and the ignominy it inflicted on the Indian state, followed the consolidation of Chinese hold over Tibet and three years of calculated efforts by Beijing to dispute the Tibetan frontier with India.

When the People’s Liberation Army had marched hundreds of miles south to annex independent Tibet and nibble at Indian areas, this, in Beijing’s eyes, was neither an expansionist nor forward policy. But when the outgunned and outmanned Indian army belatedly sought to set up posts along the mountain frontier to discourage further Chinese encroachments, Beijing and its friends dubbed it a provocative “forward policy” and proceeded to employ it as a rationalization for the attack.

Decades later, the Himalayan frontier is peaceful, but India and China are still not separated by a mutually defined frontline. Worse, the wounds of that war have been kept open by China’s publicly assertive claims to Indian territories, including some areas it overran in 1962, only to move back quickly so as not to overstretch its tenuous logistic and communication lines.

The invasion established firm Chinese control over the Aksai Chin plateau, with the ejection of Indian forces from the area of the Karakoram Pass, Pangong and Spanggur Lakes and Demchok. In NEFA (now Arunachal Pradesh), Beijing’s first offer, after the PLA advanced up to 65 kilometres into India, was for both sides to pull back 20 kilometres from the “line of actual control,” which it had refused to define — and which to this day it remains averse to delimit. While the PLA ultimately moved back to the McMahon Line in 1962, Beijing is still loath to exchange maps with India of the main sectors — the eastern and the western — so that the ambiguities plaguing the line of control are purged. In the western sector, China actually maintains an outer and inner line of control.

All in all, the ongoing process of border negotiations since 1981 redounds to China’s credit but not to India’s. There are three main reasons for this.

            First, a long, barren but continuing process chimes with the Chinese interest to keep India under strategic pressure. In assiduously seeking to drag out the negotiations indefinitely, Beijing is following the principle, “negotiate to engage the other side, not to reach accord.” This principle dovetails with China’s broader two-pronged strategy to present a friendly face while building up its power-projection force capability through military, economic and diplomatic means.

Rich in symbolism, the talks continue to be woefully short of progress on specific issues. Not only has there been little movement on reaching a settlement on the large chunks of territories in dispute, but also India and China remain the world’s only neighbours without a defined frontline. Their 4,057-kilometre frontier represents neither a line of “actual” control nor even a mutually agreed line in maps.

The Manmohan Singh-Hu Jintao joint declaration of last November committed India and China to pursue a “10-pronged strategy.” But in accordance with Beijing’s wishes, the declaration merely cited the need for an “early settlement of outstanding issues,” including “the boundary question,” without putting it among the strategy’s top five prongs. Instead of good fences making good neighbours, China believes that disputed fences help keep India in check.

Second, China persuaded India in 2003 to shift from the practical task of clarifying the frontline to the abstract mission of developing “principles,” “concepts” and “framework” for a border settlement. This shift was designed to release Beijing from its commitment in 2001 to exchange maps with India of first the western sector and then of the eastern sector — a pledge it had already breached by missing the mutually agreed deadlines.

The fact is that the contours of a possible settlement have been known for long — a simple trade-off involving India foregoing its claims to territories it has lost to China, in return for Beijing’s abandonment of its claims to Indian-held areas. It was clear at the outset that an exercise to define “principles” and “concepts” would, at best, be academic — contributing little to settlement prospects — and, at worst, diversionary, holding up progress.

As Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee admitted at the Japan Institute of International Affairs in Tokyo last month, India and China have yet to reach agreement on “substantive” issues. Indeed, no sooner had the two countries identified six “guiding principles” in 2005 for a border settlement, including “due consideration to each other’s strategic and reasonable interests” and “safeguard due interests of settled populations in the border areas,” than Beijing scoffed at those very principles by publicly renewing its claim to Arunachal Pradesh, including Tawang.

Given its vantage point, China in unwilling to settle on the basis of the status quo. It knows no Indian government can cede even a slice of Arunachal, yet it persists with its egregious territorial claims with a twofold objective: to up the ante against India, and to keep progress at bay. By redirecting the process from frontline clarification to the enunciation of principles, and then cynically reinterpreting the agreed principles, Beijing, however, has laid bare its intentions.

            Third, India has sadly retreated to a more and more defensive position, bringing itself under greater Chinese pressure. Nobody is suggesting India adopt an aggressive posture. But if New Delhi is to engage Beijing on equal terms, the latter cannot have a monopoly on outrageous territorial claims that it pitchforks into the negotiations agenda to put the ball in India’s court and stall progress.

Far from adopting a nuanced position on the core issue, Tibet, to gain leverage, India continues to be excessively cautious and obliging in its diplomacy, arming Beijing with an open licence to demand more. It is bad enough that the Indian public is discovering after more than a quarter-century of border talks that China is unwilling to settle on the basis of the status quo. It is worse when India countenances such intransigence by opening negotiations on Chinese claims, however preposterous. 

Nothing better illustrates this than the separate statements earlier this year of two capable and level-headed officials — Pranab Mukherjee and National Security Adviser M.K. Narayanan — that because China lays claim to Tawang, that issue is on the agenda to find a final border resolution. The truth is that the Chinese claims epitomize a classical pursuit of incremental territorial expansion, with Beijing citing not any Han connection to Arunachal/Tawang but purported Tibetan ecclesiastical ties. India today militarily is a far cry from 1962, when the Chinese invaders poured through the mountain passes in a three-pronged drive that decimated the Indian brigade in Tawang. Yet it is no small irony today that Tibet’s exiled god-king says Tawang is part of India while New Delhi discusses Tawang with China in the border talks.

World history testifies that a border settlement has rarely been arrived at on the basis of the status quo when the more powerful party is overtly revisionist. It is only when both sides seek to alter the existing territorial control that a resolution respecting the status quo becomes possible.

Pitted against status quoist India are two irredentist regional adversaries. And because India has not sought to build and exploit counter-leverage, the advantage in negotiations tends to lie with these neighbours. The Sino-Indian negotiations have brought out in sharp relief that New Delhi’s acquiescence to China’s annexation of Tibet has come to haunt it, as Chinese claims on Indian territories are predicated on their alleged links with Tibet.

As the special representatives meet amidst tea plantations in Coonoor, their dialogue has gone from the agreed-but-now-contested guiding principles to another ethereal task — “finalizing an appropriate framework for a final package settlement.” Given that they are still discussing conceptual, not concrete, issues, the special envoys are likely to run out of new exotic retreats for their meetings even before they get to negotiate any real settlement package.

A periodic treat for the special representatives, in any event, cannot substitute for progress. Indeed such stagecraft hardly honours the memory of the 3,270 Indian army men killed by the Chinese invaders in 1962. What India needs is high-quality statecraft to ensure that no prime minister will tell the nation what Nehru did in 1962 — that China returned “evil for good.” The 32-day invasion in 1962 lasted longer than the 1965 and 1971 wars with Pakistan and claimed the lives of more Indian soldiers than any other aggression faced by India since independence, with the exception of 1971.

The border-talks process has yielded what it could — an agreement to maintain peace, tranquillity and stability along the Indo-Tibetan frontier, and the initiation of modest military-to-military cooperation. The process offers little more. Staying put in a sterile, everlasting process cannot become an end in itself for India. Indeed it only emboldens China to be publicly intractable and pugnaciously revanchist. Indira Gandhi, who initiated the process, would be turning in her grave over the way the negotiations have lost their direction, with India playing into China’s game plan.

Copyright: Asian Age, 2007

The Challenge of Climate Change in Southern Asia Part I

Climate Change and Security in Southern Asia: Understanding the National Security Implications

By Brahma Chellaney

RUSI Journal, April 2007, Vol. 152, No. 2

Encompassing the area from Afghanistan to the Indo-Burma frontiers and from Tibet to Sri Lanka, southern Asia is home to more than one-fifth of the human race, many of whom reside in low-lying areas. Three broad conclusions can be drawn: water issues are likely to aggravate intra- and inter-state tensions; rising sea levels are likely to spur intra- and inter-state migration; and human security is likely to be a casualty of climate change.

The world is headed towards greater climate change during the twenty-first century unless greenhouse gas emissions decrease substantially from present levels of increase and unless the general environmental degradation decelerates significantly. The degree and pace of future climate change flowing from human causation will naturally hinge on:

(i)                  The extent of the increase of greenhouse gases and aerosol concentrations;

(ii)                The impact of deforestation, land use, animal agriculture and other anthropogenic or human-driven factors on climate variation;

(iii)               The impact of natural influences (including from volcanic activity and changes in the sun’s intensity) on climate variation; and

(iv)              The extent to which temperature, precipitation, sea level and other climatic features react to changes in greenhouse-gas emissions, aerosol concentrations and other elements in the atmosphere.

Climate change is a worldwide phenomenon, and its ramifications cannot be analyzed in isolation in the context of any one region. Climate change, however, will carry varied security implications for different regions, depending on their geography, population density and state capacity, as well as the extent to which environmental degradation has occurred. It is in this context that the security-related implications of climate change for southern Asia are sought to be examined.

Climate Change in Southern Asia

Encompassing the area from Afghanistan to the Indo-Burma frontiers and from Tibet to Sri Lanka, southern Asia is home to more than one-fifth of the human race. Not only is it one of the most densely-populated regions of the world, but it also has low-lying countries like Bangladesh and the Maldives, whose survival could be threatened by a rise in sea levels resulting from an increase in the Earth’s average temperature. It faces scorching summer heat, and a rise of even two degrees Celsius average temperature could cause environmental harm to human, plant and animal habitat.

            The smallest country in Asia in terms of population, the Maldives, has the distinction of being the flattest state in the world – except where the level has been raised through construction, the ground level in the Maldives rises up to only 2.3 metres above sea level. When the Christmas of 2004 brought the tsunami to the Indian Ocean region, unfolding a disaster of epic proportions, the Maldives, although located far from the epicentre, suffered extensive damage. Many of its twenty-six atolls were savagely pummelled by the tsunami, which inundated parts of the archipelago. The tsunami altered the contours of some of the 1,192 Maldivian islets, less than a tenth of which are populated. Actually, the Maldives had already lost some territory over the past century earlier due to the slow increase in sea levels by as much as twenty centimetres.

In sharp contrast to the Maldives in southern Asia is the large, densely-populated Bangladesh, still struggling on the margins of globalization.  Bangladesh is double the size of Germany in terms of population. In fact, it has overtaken Russia as the seventh most populous state in the world.  Excluding island nations and city states, Bangladesh ranks as the world’s most densely-peopled country. Even in terms of its landmass, Bangladesh, with its 144,000-square-kilometre area, is anything but a small country.  Essentially a delta state through which two of Asia’s great rivers — the Ganges and Brahmaputra — flow into the Bay of Bengal, Bangladesh is ravaged every year by monsoon floods and, from time to time, by cyclones.  

There are also other parts of southern Asia that are low-lying. They include coastal Sri Lanka, the Andaman and Nicobar Island chain of India and parts of the southern Indian coast. Next-door Indonesia has hundreds of vulnerable, low-lying islands.            

             Environmental degradation has continued unchecked in southern Asia, creating major problems relating to water resources, for example. Coupled with rapid urbanization, such degradation has already contributed to raising summer temperatures in major cities. While the magnitude of future climatic changes is difficult to predict, higher greenhouse gas concentrations are likely to influence precipitation and temperature patterns in southern Asia, as well as potentially raise sea levels.

             The challenges that confront southern Asia mirror the larger environmental issues that face Asia as a whole. Other than Japan, Asian states in general are doing poorly in reconciling development with environmental protection. In China, for example, ever-rising sand squalls not only blanket Beijing and other northern Chinese cities, but also threaten to speed up the spread of barren wasteland to the heartland. The desert’s advance from the arid northwest has been aided by government-led irrigated farming that has diverted water resources from the region’s ecological lifeline — the Shiyang River and its offshoots — and thereby left other land open to desertification. Respect for the environment and better management of natural resources are notions still not embraced actively by governments in Asia.

Asia is already facing a fresh-water crisis, with several hundred million Asians lacking ready access to drinking water. The geopolitical importance of Tibet, whose forcible absorption brought the new Chinese state to the borders of India, can be seen from the fact that most of the great Asian rivers originate there. If the demand for water in Asia continues to grow at the current rate, the inter-state and intra-state disputes over water resources could potentially turn into conflicts in the years ahead.

Deforestation, overgrazing, poor management of river basins and inefficient irrigation systems have aggravated fresh-water scarcity, with contamination also limiting access to clean water. To fight poverty, disease and pollution, southern Asia needs both to augment its water supplies through better distribution and management of resources and to improve its sanitation services. After all, clean water is the key to good health. However, the growing use of subterranean supplies of groundwater in southern and south-eastern Asia as well as China, due to inadequate availability of surface water, threatens to accelerate environmental degradation.

Large rapidly-developing economies like India and China, with their growing demands for resources, including energy and water, are bound to add pressure to the global ecosystems. Their growth trajectories will impact on efforts to slow down environmental degradation and global climate change. According to a 2005 estimate by China’s State Environment Protection Agency, 70 per cent of the water in five of the country’s seven major river systems is too contaminated for human use. Pollution of rivers is also a major problem in India, Bangladesh, Nepal and Pakistan. Drinking-water supply in major southern Asian cities tends to be unfit for human consumption. Additionally, most cities report scarcity of water supply.

One key anthropogenic factor in Asia altering the environment and causing climate change is the increase in carbon dioxide levels due to emissions from fossil-fuel combustion. Coal will remain for the foreseeable future the dominant fuel for generating electricity in India and China. That is no different from the United States, which already has more than 600 coal-fired electric plants in operation and another 140 under planned or actual construction. Coal makes up 64 per cent of China’s primary energy consumption, with that country being the largest producer and consumer of coal in the world. In India, coal accounts for nearly 50 per cent of primary energy consumption.

China, which is currently completing one new coal-fired electric plant every month, has already emerged as the world’s second largest emitter of greenhouse gases, after the United States. China, however, remains far behind America, which, with just over 4.5 per cent of the world’s population, discharges nearly a quarter — 24 per cent — of all emissions of carbon dioxide, according to the World Bank’s Little Green Data Book 2006.[1] According to the US Environmental Protection Agency, about 6.6 metric tonnes of greenhouse gases are emitted per person in America, placing that country number one in the world in terms of per capita emissions.

China and India at present rank much lower as per capita emitters of greenhouse gases. Yet such is their growing fossil-fu combustion that the International Energy Agency reported in November 2006 that China could surpass the United States as the world’s largest emitter of carbon dioxide by 2009, more than a full decade earlier than anticipated. Despite the emerging accent on renewable sources of energy as well as on commercial nuclear power, there is little prospect, however, of the world coming out of the fossil-fuel age.

A pressing imperative in southern Asia and China is to raise environmental standards through state support and enforcement. The environmental problems have been underscored by the growing air pollution, contamination of water, waste mismanagement, and the destruction of forests, mangroves and other natural habitats. Tellingly, the tsunami wreaked destruction with a vengeance on beaches that had been cleared of mangroves for development.

The November 2006 Stern report, commissioned by the British government, has rightly pointed to the need for the rapidly developing countries, such as China and India, to be part of a global effort to tackle the problem of climate change, even though the main responsibility (as it admits) lies with rich nations that must act now to start reducing greenhouse-gas emissions. Researchers from the US Department of Energy have reported in the Geophysical Research Letters that China’s skies have darkened over the past fifty years, possibly due to haze resulting from a nine-fold increase in fossil-fuel emissions, and that the amount of solar radiation measured at more than 500 stations in China actually fell between 1954 and 2001, despite a decrease in cloud cover.[2]

The magnitude of future climate change, however, is uncertain and is likely to vary from area to area, and from coastal region to the hinterland. That makes it difficult to reach general conclusions on climate changes and their likely security implications in southern Asia. For example, several studies on the regional impact of climate change have shown that warming will be the least in the islands and coastal areas of the Indian subcontinent and the greatest in the inland continental areas of the subcontinent, except during the June to August monsoon period when reduced warming is likely to occur in the hinterland. The table below illustrates such a scenario:

 

Temperature Change Scenarios for 2010 and 2070 (°Celsius)

 

 

Year

Region

2010

2070


 

Coastal southern Asia 0.1-0.5 0.4-3.0 Inland southern Asia, but not in the summer monsoon months of June, July & August 0.3-0.7 1.1-4.5 Hinterland southern Asia from June to August 0.1-0.3 0.4-2.0

Source: Whetton, 1994

 

In examining rainfall scenarios, the impact of climate change has to be assessed on the two main rainfall seasons — the South-West Monsoon in the summer and the North-East Monsoon in the winter. Several studies, including by the Climate Impact Group (1992) and R. Suppiah (1994), report the likelihood that global warming could actually strengthen monsoon circulation and bring increased rainfall in both monsoon seasons.[3] Changes in non-monsoon, or dry-season, rainfall have been more difficult to assess.

Projections of regionally averaged changes in rainfall for the years 2010 and 2070 are given in this table:  

 

Rainfall Scenarios for 2010 and 2070 (% change)

 

Region

2010
Wet Season

2010
Dry Season

2070
Wet Season

2070
Dry Season


 

South-West Monsoon Region India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Philippines (western part), and Vietnam (except east coast)

0

0

0 to 10

-10 to +10

North-East Monsoon Region Sri Lanka, India’s Tamil Nadu state, Indonesia, Philippines (east part), Vietnam (east coast) and Malaysia

0 to -5

0

-5 to +15

0 to +10

South Asian Subregion (15-30°N; 65-95°E)

0 to +10

-5 to +5

+5 to +50

-5 to +20


 

Source: Whetton, 1994

 

The impact of climate change, however, can already be seen today. Winter 2006-07, for instance, was unusually mild in Tibet, ‘the roof of the world’, raising concerns about the accelerated melting of glaciers in the Himalayan region. Most major rivers of Asia originate in Tibet, including the Indus, the Brahmaputra, the Yangtze, the Yellow, the Mekong, the Salween, the Karnali and the Sutlej. China’s state press reported record high temperatures in Tibet in early January 2007. For example, in the Amdo area, in the north-east of traditional Tibet, the temperature on 5 January 2007 reached 21.8°C – 1.7 degrees higher than the record set for the same day in 1996. Meteorological data in Tibet began to be collected only in 1970.

 The Tibetan plateau, seen as a barometer of climate conditions in southern and central Asia and in China, is experiencing, according to a January 2007 scientific survey quoted by the state-run People’s Daily, faster glacial melt and other ecological change. The survey, conducted by the Remote Sensing Department of the China Aero Geophysical Survey, warned that the Himalayan glaciers could be reduced by nearly a third by 2050 and up to half by 2090 at the current rate. The glacial melt, the survey reportedly went on to caution, would further deplete Tibet’s water resources — a lifeline for the peoples of southern Asia and China. 

The Challenge of Climate Change in Southern Asia Part II

Climate Change and Security in Southern Asia: Understanding the National Security Implications

Part II of paper published in

RUSI Journal, April 2007, Vol. 152, No. 2

Larger Security Implications

Despite its grave long-term implications, climate change has aroused more international political passion than a concrete global response to meet the threat it poses. Whatever the form and content of the Kyoto Protocol’s successor, climate change needs to be tackled at multiple levels — international, regional and national. However, no region, in whatever way defined, can constitute a sufficient unit to tackle climate change. For example, given Tibet’s role as the central water source for southern Asia and China, the destinies of the Indian subcontinent and the People’s Republic are inextricably linked.

The potential impact of climate change on the availability of water resources is a critical component of the challenge that stares at Asia, which, as a whole, has less fresh water — 3,920 cubic metres per person — than any other continent outside of Antarctica, according to a 2006 United Nations report.[4] This report states, when the estimated reserves of lakes, rivers and groundwater are added up, Asia has marginally less water per person than Europe or Africa, one-quarter that of North America, nearly one-tenth that of South America and twenty times less than Australia and Pacific islands. Yet Asia is home to more than half of the human population.

The Himalayan glaciers that feed Asia’s largest rivers — the Ganges, Indus, Brahmaputra (Yarlung Tsampo), Mekong, Yangtze, Yellow and Sutlej — are clearly beginning to melt at a faster pace due to global warming. Glaciers are a natural storage system, releasing maximum water when it is most required — the hot summer months. The shrinking ice sheets, however, could threaten to seriously aggravate water imbalances and shortages in southern Asia and China. Additionally, as the melting accelerates, this phenomenon also threatens to cause extensive flooding in India and Bangladesh, followed by a reduction in river flows.

In southern Asia, climate changes are likely to bring about important shifts in temperature and rainfall patterns, a rise in sea levels, and a rise in the frequency and intensity of anomalous weather events, such as cyclones, flooding and droughts. These trends, cumulatively, would play havoc with agriculture (on which a majority of the national populations subsist) and also impact on hydropower generation and conservation strategies. The weaker the economic and social base and higher the reliance on natural resources, the more a community will be adversely affected by climate change. In other words, the poorer parts of southern Asia, including Bangladesh, Nepal and Indian states like Assam and Bihar, are likely to bear the brunt.

While it is scientifically not possible to predict future events with any degree of certainty, a linear projection of ongoing climate changes can help us to draw some reasonable conclusions, with the aim of controlling anthropogenic factors contributing to climate change and to examine possible new practices and strategies whereby communities could be helped to adapt to the changes in ways that minimize the impact of climate change. In southern Asia, three broad conclusions can be drawn on the security implications of climate change:

(1)                          Given the region’s heavy dependence both on the glacially sourced water reserves of the Himalayas and on monsoon precipitation, climate changes are likely to intensify inter-state and intra-state conflicts in southern Asia over water issues. That, in turn, could exacerbate or re-open disputes over territories that are either the original source of water or through which major rivers flow, such as Tibet and Jammu and Kashmir.

(2)                          Sea-level rise and frequency of extreme weather events like hurricanes, droughts and monsoonal or cyclonic flooding are likely to spur greater inter-state and intra-state migration — especially of the poor and the vulnerable — from delta and coastal regions to the hinterland. Such an influx of outsiders would socially swamp inland areas, upsetting the existing fragile ethnic balance and provoking a backlash that strains internal and regional security. For example, India, officially home to sixteen million illegal Bangladeshi settlers, could see an influx of tens of millions of more Bangladeshis crossing over an international border too porous to patrol effectively. More broadly, the political stability and internal cohesion of nations could be undermined.  

(3)                          Human security probably would be the main casualty of climate change. Social and economic disparities are likely to intensify within the nation states of southern Asia as climatic change delivers a bigger blow to certain sectors of the economy, particularly agriculture, and to low-lying coastal and delta areas. That will make the tasks of good governance and sustainable development more onerous.

Conflicts over Water Resources

Hundreds of millions of people in southern and south-eastern Asia and China are without access to safe drinking water. This situation would aggravate markedly if current projections of climate change come true. Loss of meltwater from rapidly thawing glaciers could drive, for example, large numbers of subsistence farmers into Indian and Chinese cities.

Inter-state and intra-state disputes over water resources are already an observable fact in southern Asia. While the Baglihar Dam epitomizes the latest India-Pakistan river water-sharing disagreement — which resulted in World Bank arbitration and the appointment of a neutral expert, who gave his final report in February 2007 largely in New Delhi’s favour — the intra-state disputes are illustrated by the row within Pakistan over Punjab’s appropriation of water resources to the detriment of downstream Sindh and Baluchistan, and by the various wrangles in India — between the states of Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala, Punjab and Haryana, Punjab and Rajasthan, and Uttar Pradesh and Delhi.

Southern Asia’s vulnerability to climate changes has been highlighted by its heavy dependence on the precipitation of an unpredictable monsoon and on river waters sourced from the glacier thaw in the mighty Himalayas. Climate change is bound to impact both on monsoon precipitation and on the availability of Himalayan water resources. As a result, profound socio-economic changes are likely to be triggered, for which the region is ill-prepared.

            If water becomes both an underlying factor in inter-state tensions and increasingly a scarce and precious commodity domestically, water wars will inevitably follow in southern Asia. Pakistan depends on rivers flowing in from Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir, although none originate there. Today, India controls only 45 per cent of the original state of Jammu and Kashmir, with Pakistan holding 35 per cent of it and China the remaining 20 per cent. But the part India holds has the Indus and its tributaries flowing into Pakistani-administered territories. Hard-line forces in Pakistan — the Islamists and the ruling military — have sought to keep the Kashmir issue alive by linking Islamabad’s desire to change the territorial status quo to the control of rivers that are the lifeblood of Pakistan.

The 1960 Indus Waters Treaty — a generous pact on India’s part — reserves 56 per cent of the catchment flow for Pakistan, with India getting the remainder flow. The treaty gives India the right to build hydroelectric plants on the three rivers reserved for Pakistan so long as they do not change the water flow downstream into Pakistan. The treaty has not only survived wars and crises, but also has enabled both countries to build extensive canal systems for irrigation.  Although the treaty is open-ended, India could be tempted to seek its re-negotiation on less generous terms, if climate changes exacerbate its own water and power shortages. Unilateral abrogation, of course, would trigger political turmoil.

Water resources also remain the crux of the spotlight on Tibet. China has created unease in India over persistent reports that it plans to divert the fast-flowing Brahmaputra River northwards to feed the arid areas in the Chinese heartland and to generate power. Beijing, however, has acknowledged that it is damming the Sutlej River in Tibet, but claimed that the dam is intended not to divert water northwards but to generate electricity. The Chinese project has been blamed for causing flash floods downstream in India’s Himachal Pradesh state.  

               The Tibetan plateau’s geopolitical importance is evident from the fact that Tibet, in the shape and size it existed independently up to 1950, comprises approximately one fourth of China’s land mass today, and has given Han China, for the first time in history, a contiguous border with Burma, India, Bhutan, Nepal and Kashmir. Just twelve years after the Sino-Indian military frontiers met for the first time in history, China invaded India after consolidating its hold over the Tibetan plateau.

            Tibet’s annexation also gave China access to the vast mineral wealth and water resources there. As China’s hunger for primary commodities has grown, so too has its exploitation of Tibet’s resources. The $6.2 billion China-Tibet railway from Gormu to Lhasa, while making more vulnerable the fragile ecology of Tibet, aids the mineral exploitation of the Tibetan plateau, besides strengthening China’s hold on Tibet. With more Han settlers coming into Tibet, the trend towards Tibet’s Sinicization and the economic marginalization of its native people has only accelerated. Yet China has failed to win over the Tibetan people, whose struggle for self-rule remains a model non-violent resistance movement. Climate change will only add to Tibet’s geopolitical weight, and help focus more international attention on that high plateau where the average altitude is more than 13,000 feet.

            The water resource-related changes in southern Asia will necessitate the region’s adaptation to alternatives based on newer technologies and methods. Given that the region will inescapably have to reduce its reliance on the natural bounty of the Himalayas as temperatures rise and the glacier melt accelerates, efficient rain-water harvesting will have to be embraced. The silver lining for the region is that the rise in temperatures under enhanced greenhouse conditions will actually bring more rainfall through the South-West and South-East Monsoon in the summer and the North-East Monsoon in the winter. The monsoonal bounty thus would need to be tapped through cost-effective technologies to provide a practical answer to the challenges arising from dwindling Himalayan river waters.

The Potential Threat from Mass Migration

The economically disruptive effects of sea-level rise and extreme weather events are likely to lead to stepped-up inter-state and intra-state migration, as those displaced are forced to relocate inland. The rise of temperature, coupled with potential greater water scarcity in the non-monsoonal seasons, would hit agriculture, irrespective of the farmland’s proximity to or distance from the sea. Given that the agricultural sector is the major source of employment, jobs in the countryside will not be easy to come by for migrants who are compelled to move into the hinterland due to loss of their agricultural land and production. That might only encourage mass influx into the already-crowded cities in southern Asia.

            The threat to Bangladesh’s survival that climate change poses has serious implications for India’s security. After all, India’s own well-being depends on Bangladesh’s well-being.  If Bangladeshis are compelled to migrate in increasingly larger numbers to India, the latter’s national security will take a severe beating. Existing refugee flows from an ever-more Islamized and radicalized Bangladesh are already beginning to seriously undermine social stability in India, making it more difficult for the government to consolidate internal cohesion and safeguard security.

Not many outsiders realize that Bangladesh, without expanding its political borders, has expanded ethnically. As brought out by the 2001 Indian census figures, the Indian districts all round Bangladesh have become Bangladeshi-majority areas. The demographic and social features of the entire western part of India’s Assam state, for example, have changed as a consequence of the influx of Bengali-speaking, predominantly Muslim refugees from Bangladesh. It is perhaps the first time in modern history that a country has expanded its ethnic frontiers without expanding its political borders. In contrast, Han China’s demographic onslaught on Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang and Tibet was a consequence of the expansion of its political frontiers.

For India, the ethnic expansion of Bangladesh beyond its political borders not only sets up enduring trans-border links, but also makes New Delhi’s already-complex task of border management more burdensome at a time when Bangladesh is emerging as a haven for jihadist groups. Given the artificial borders between India and Bangladesh, even half a million Indian troops deployed along those frontiers cannot plug every porous line bringing refugees or terrorists into India. Now, with ethnically and even religiously similar populations on both sides of the borders, it has become more arduous for border troops to stop the illicit smuggling of human beings, narcotics, etc. 

As a country surrounded by the Indian landmass on three sides, Bangladesh has a unique geography. To help advance its own interests, India needs to become a major stakeholder in Bangladesh’s economic well-being and security.  This imperative has been underlined by the way Islamist forces and extremist groups have continued to gain ground in Bangladesh. The growth of extremism in Bangladesh is a complex phenomenon, and a dysfunctional democracy made matters worse.  India cannot shape developments within Bangladesh, but it can try to be a positive influence. India has to deal with the situation in Bangladesh in strategic terms, with a long-term approach.

If Bangladesh’s radicalization and political turmoil were to continue, India’s security will be very seriously undermined by hostile elements operating out of Bangladesh.  A Bangladesh that sinks deeper in extremism and fundamentalism will be a serious geopolitical headache for India. But a Bangladesh from where the refugee flows become a torrent will be a geopolitical nightmare for India.

Intra-state migration in India resulting from climate change could itself weaken internal cohesion and undermine security.

Human Insecurity Arising from Climate Change

The biggest threat from climate change is to human security, with the poorest being the most vulnerable. The national security of no state can endure growing human insecurity. The impact of climate variability on society will mean change in the social-economic-political environments on which the security of individuals, communities and states rest. Climate change thus needs to be elevated beyond the scientific discourse to a national security issue in India and the other states of southern Asia.

As it is, disparities are widening in southern Asia, despite high GDP growth rates. The growing inequity in southern Asia, and Asia as a whole, has been shown by the United Nations Development Programme’s annual Human Development Report. The report measures inequality on the basis of the ‘gini index’ instead of the ‘gini coefficient’. A gini-index value of 0 represents perfect equality and a value of 100 perfect inequality.

What the report brings out is that, with perhaps the sole exception of Japan, Asian states are becoming increasingly inequitable in terms of distribution of income. Such states even include the three Asian nations still under communist rule — China, Vietnam and Laos. These three one-party states, where income inequalities were narrow not long ago, now measure 44.7, 37.0 and 37.0 respectively on the gini index. With a score of 32.5, India, surprisingly, comes out better than all the three communist-ruled states and even Singapore.[5]  

Yet the spreading Maoist rural insurgency in the poorest districts of India at a time when the country is economically booming is a testament to the costs of growing inequalities. The ragtag bands of rebels wish to supplant Indian parliamentary democracy with a proletariat dictatorship inspired by Mao Zedong’s Little Red Book. In fact, Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has gone to the extent of declaring Maoist violence as the ‘single biggest security challenge ever faced by our country’. The high incidence of malnutrition among children in some Indian states, particularly Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh, illustrates why India needs to focus on inclusive growth. 

A nation can ignore the need for inclusive growth only at its own peril, given the likely climate change scenarios. Climate change will impact on human vulnerability, and thus on human security. Disruption arising from climate change will seriously intensify human security challenges and affect broader national security. Therefore, postponing difficult choices to a more difficult future is not prudent policy.

States and communities will need to innovate and manage under a new, climate change driven paradigm. Building greater institutional and organizational capacity will become necessary, along with developing efficient water-resource management in the dry seasons, early warning systems and preparedness, and new farm varieties.

Concluding Observation

Rising sea levels, increasing weather extremes, change in rainfall pattern, disruption of safe-drinking water sources and water scarcities in non-monsoonal months pose serious risks to social and political harmony in southern Asia. Such trends are also likely to influence the vector of disease control and potentially create major public health challenges in this region and beyond. But, as even hurricane Katrina highlighted in New Orleans, it will be the poor who will be the hit the hardest. Furthermore, the impact of climate change will extend beyond human civilization to southern Asia’s exceptionally rich plant and animal world. Today’s endangered species could become extinct tomorrow.

Meeting the challenges posed by climate change, therefore, demands that sustained efforts begin now. That, in turn, means switching to a more climate-friendly path in development and energy needs. The only sure path to energy security, in any event, lies through renewable sources of energy. Renewables also offer clean energy.

For the foreseeable future, however, coal will continue to play a major role in meeting the electricity needs in southern Asia and China. However, India, China and other states need to embrace cleaner technologies, like coal gasification, that hold immense promise to cut down emissions of carbon dioxide and other pollutants contributing to acid rain, smog and respiratory illness. These newer technologies focus on carbon-capture methods, whether in pulverized coal plants (which grind coal into a dust before burning it to make electricity) or in ‘integrated gasification combined cycle’, or IGCC, plants (which convert coal into a gas that is burned to produce energy). High oil and gas prices are also making the clean coal-to-liquids (CTL) technology attractive.

The clean-coal technologies raise the possibility of Asia satisfying its growing energy needs without accelerating climate change. The newer technologies, of course, are more expensive than conventional coal-burning methods. However, as companies adopt the clean-coal technologies, these newer methods will mature and their economics will cease to be an inhibiting factor for commercialization. Improved techniques will also make carbon sequestration commercially viable.

Given that at best it can be slowed but not stopped, climate change needs to be embraced as a national security issue — but not in the way the Pentagon has toyed with the development of weather-modification technologies for military applications. Large states like India and China need to start seriously looking at ways they can innovate and get along in a climate change-driven paradigm. It will become imperative to build greater institutional and organizational capacity, along with efficient water management, early warning systems and new farm varieties.

 

NOTES


[1] World Bank, Little Green Data Book 2006 (Washington, DC: The World Bank, 2006).

[2]Yun Qian, Dale P. Kaiser, L. Ruby Leung and Ming Xu, ‘More Frequent Cloud-Free Sky and Less Surface Solar Radiation in China From 1955 to 2000’, Geophysical Research Letters (Vol.33, No.1, L01812), 11 January 2006.

[3] P. Whetton, A.B. Pittock and R. Suppiah, ‘Implications of Climate Change for Water Resources in South and Southeast Asia’, in Climate Change in Asia: Thematic Overview (Manila: Asian Development Bank, 1994); Robert T. Watson, Marufu C. Zinyowera Richard H. Moss, David J. Dokken (Eds.), Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) Special Report on The Regional Impacts of Climate Change An Assessment of Vulnerability (1997); R. Suppiah, ‘The Asian Monsoons: Simulations From Four GCMs and Likely Changes Under Enhanced Greenhouse Conditions’, A.J. Jakeman and B. Pittock (eds.) Climate Impact Assessment Methods for Asia and the Pacific, Proceedings of a regional symposium, organized by ANUTECH Pty. Ltd. on behalf of the Australian International Development Assistance Bureau 10-12 March 1993, Canberra, Australia (1994); Climate Impact Group, Climate Change Scenarios for South and Southeast Asia (Aspendale, Australia: Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organization, 1992).

[4] United Nations, The State of the Environment in Asia and the Pacific (New York: United Nations, October 2006).

[5] The full gini-index table measuring inequality in income or distribution is available at:

http://hdr.undp.org/statistics/data/indicators.cfm?x=148&y=2&z=1

Or at: http://hdr.undp.org/reports/global/2005/pdf/HDR05_HDI.pdf

 

Tibet at the core of India-China territorial disputes

Sino-Indian Relations: Tibet is the Key
 
BY BRAHMA CHELLANEY 
 
China Rights Forum, CRF 2007, Vol. 1 — China and the World 
 
The increasingly complex relationship between Asian giants China and India is exacerbating long-standing territorial disputes, which may ultimately be defused only through a resolution of the Tibet question.
 
Read full article in the current issue of China Rights Forum:
 

China Covets A Pearl Necklace

Dragon’s Foothold in Gwadar

Brahma Chellaney

(c) Asian Age April 7, 2007  

The newly opened deepwater port at Gwadar, Pakistan, represents China’s first strategic foothold in the Arabian Sea. Along with Beijing’s onshore and offshore strategic assets in Burma, Gwadar signifies an enlarging Chinese footprint on both the oceanic flanks of peninsula India. Add to the scene China’s agreement to build a port at Hambantota in Sri Lanka, its aid to the Bangladeshi port of Chittagong and its interest in a strategic anchor in the Maldives. What all this underscores is an emerging Chinese challenge to India’s traditional dominance in the Indian Ocean region.

The recent, little-noticed inauguration of the Gwadar port by Pakistani military ruler Pervez Musharraf has set the stage for Gwadar’s expansion into an energy-transport hub and naval base. Describing the occasion as “a historic day,” General Musharraf announced, in the presence of Chinese Communications Minister Li Shenglin, that a modern airport also will be built at Gwadar by “our Chinese brothers.” Chinese engineers already are constructing the Gwadar naval base, scheduled to be ready in less than four years.

The Gwadar port’s first phase was completed by China ahead of schedule, and during President Hu Jintao’s visit to Islamabad last November, one of the agreements announced was titled: “Transfer of Completion Certification of Gwadar Port (Phase I) between the People’s Republic of China and the Islamic Republic of Pakistan.” This revealed that China built the port on a turnkey basis. It has pledged more than $1 billion in grants and loan guarantees for the multiphase Gwadar project.

Gwadar, near the Iranian border, epitomizes how an increasingly ambitious Beijing, brimming with hard cash from a blazing economic growth, is building new transportation, trade, energy and naval links around India to advance its interests. Such links, whether by design or accident, strategically encircle India, constricting its options and room for manoeuvre. 

Beijing has been busily fashioning two strategic corridors on either side of India in a north-south axis — the Trans-Karakoram Corridor from western China stretching all the way down to Gwadar, at the entrance to the Strait of Hormuz, through which 40 per cent of the world’s oil passes; and the Irrawaddy Corridor from Yunnan to the Bay of Bengal involving road, river and rail links through Burma, including to the Chinese-built harbours at Kyaukypu and Thilawa.  

The Irrawaddy Corridor has brought Chinese security personnel to Burmese sites close both to India’s eastern strategic assets and to the Strait of Malacca. Chinese agencies already operate electronic-eavesdropping and maritime-reconnaissance facilities on the Coco Islands — transferred by India in the 1950s to Burma, which then leased them to Beijing in 1994. The Coco Islands, however, were not the only instance of Jawaharlal Nehru’s territorial big-heartedness toward Burma. A sore point in Manipur remains the way Nehru unilaterally accepted Burmese sovereignty over the 18,000-square-kilometre Kabaw Valley in 1953. Today China operates a signals-intelligence (SIGINT) collection facility from the Great Coco Island.

A third Chinese strategic corridor is in an east-west axis in Tibet across India’s northern frontiers. The $6.2-billion railway from Gormu to Lhasa significantly boosts China’s offensive military capability against India. A railway branch southward from Lhasa to Xigatse — seat of the Panchen Lama’s Tashilhumpu monastery — is nearing completion. The People’s Liberation Army, strategically located on the roof against the Indian forces at low levels, now has the logistic capability to intensify military pressure at short notice by rapidly mobilizing up to 12 divisions.  

          Beijing intends to extend the Tibetan railway right up to the Indian frontier — to the Chumbi Valley where the borders of Sikkim, Bhutan and Tibet meet, and to the Arunachal-Burma-Tibet tri-junction. It also plans to connect with Kathmandu by rail. The Chinese efforts to use transportation routes to make strategic inroads and create an economic dependency in Nepal challenge Indian security.

            As part of this east-west corridor, China has built new military airfields along the frontier with India, and has just announced a plan to set up the world’s highest airport at Ngari, at the southwestern edge of Tibet. The Ngari prefecture has a population of only 69,000, and the airport will play a largely military role in reinforcing Chinese capabilities in the captured Aksai Chin region, where China maintains an outer and inner line of control against India. The new railway allows China to rail-base in Tibet some of its intercontinental ballistic missiles, such as its latest DF-31A, a rail-mobile weapon.

China’s incremental efforts to build a “string of pearls” along the Indian Ocean rim symbolize its fourth strategic corridor — and the advent of a challenge to India from the south. This “string of pearls” — a term first used in a report for the Pentagon by defence contractor Booz Allen Hamilton — is sought to be assembled through forward listening posts, naval-access agreements and Chinese-built harbours stretching from Pakistan and Sri Lanka to Bangladesh and Burma. The Chinese interest in the Indian Ocean rim now extends up to the Seychelles, which the visiting Hu Jintao two months ago called “a shining pearl in the Indian Ocean,” as if to corroborate his country’s string-of-pearls scheme.

Such is Gwadar’s vantage location that it is central both to the string of pearls and the Trans-Karakoram Corridor. Gwadar is being linked by road to the Chinese-built Karakoram Highway — an emblem of the long-standing Sino-Pakistan nexus. With the Chinese-aided Gwadar-Dalbandin project extending the railway up to Rawalpindi, Beijing has begun a technical study about building a railroad from Pakistan to Kashgar through the Khunjerab Pass, in parallel to the Karakoram Highway.

Gwadar’s transformation from a sleepy fishing village to a strategic centre and boomtown has been rapid. In his March 20 port opening, Musharraf thanked China for dramatically changing Gwadar “where five to six years back there was nothing except for sand and dust.”   

China has acknowledged that Gwadar’s strategic value is no less than that of the Karakoram Highway. In fact, the largest Chinese economic-information portal called Gwadar “China’s biggest harvest” and boasted that Beijing enjoys “relatively large control” there. China’s role in developing Gwadar is as strategically significant as its well-documented part in arming Pakistan with nuclear-weapon and missile capabilities. By linking Gwadar with the Karakoram Highway and by planning to build an oil pipeline from Gwadar to its restive Xinjiang province, China actually is seeking to reap a strategic-multiplier effect.  

One component of China’s plan is to make Gwadar a major hub transporting Gulf and African oil by pipeline to the Chinese heartland via Xinjiang. Such piped oil would not only cut freight costs and supply time but also lower China’s reliance on US-policed shipping lanes through the Malacca and Taiwan Straits. Pakistan has already signed a memorandum of understanding for “studies to build the energy corridor to China.” Beijing is also setting up a similar energy corridor through Burma involving oil and gas pipelines, with Chinese firms now developing a major port at Sitwe, the capital of Rakhine province.

The past is a testament to how Chinese projects in India’s periphery progressively assume strategic and military colour after originally having been touted as purely commercial. A classic case is the Karakoram Highway, which has served as a passageway through occupied Kashmiri territories for covert Chinese nuclear and missile transfers and other military aid to Pakistan.

As the practitioner of a Sun Tzu-style balance-of-power strategy aimed at averting the rise of a peer rival in Asia and engaging the world on its own terms, China blurs the line between commercial and military interests. Its investments in ports in Burma, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Pakistan have been driven largely by strategic considerations. Indeed its $475-million investment in Hambantota is bereft of even the fig-leaf of commercial interest. 

Just as China has furthered its military interests in Burma behind a commercial veil, it values Gwadar for the major strategic advantages that port holds despite its location in insurgency-wracked Baluchistan. Even after four Chinese engineers were killed in two separate guerrilla attacks in 2004, China did not slow down the construction. Gwadar — half the distance from Kashgar than Shanghai — provides much-closer access to the sea from China’s landlocked, sparsely-populated Xinjiang province, which is twice the size of Pakistan. 

Beijing sees Gwadar as providing a more-secure corridor for energy imports, given its fears that in the event of a strategic confrontation, its resource-hungry economy could be held hostage by hostile naval forces through the interdiction of oil shipments. Gwadar, along with Sitwe, would help reduce China’s reliance on the Strait of Malacca, through which 80 per cent of Chinese oil imports now pass. By deciding to substantially widen the Karakoram Highway and upgrade it as an all-weather passageway, China also plans to export and import goods through Gwadar. 

But while keen to develop it as a major trade and energy hub, Beijing has no intention of forsaking its ambition to use Gwadar for naval and other strategic purposes, including to project Chinese power in the Indian Ocean rim and the Gulf region. Gwadar, however, is essentially a product of Pakistan’s drive for strategic depth vis-à-vis India. The Indian navy’s 1971 blockade of Karachi led Pakistan to consider ways to mitigate its naval vulnerability. By mid-2000, Pakistan had built a small naval base at Ormara, located between Karachi and Gwadar. But once the work is complete on a base at Gwadar — protected by cliffs from three sides — India will be in no position to bottle up the Pakistan navy in 1971 style.

How quickly Gwadar has come up can be seen from the fact that its cornerstone was laid by Chinese Vice-Premier Wu Bangguo only in March 2002 — ironically four months after the United States launched Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. The US military operations from the Pakistani airbases at Jacobabad in Sind and Pasni in Baluchistan, however, encouraged Beijing to successfully seek from Islamabad advance “sovereign guarantees” to use Gwadar facilities. Just before Musharraf opened Gwadar, the contract to run the port was awarded to PSA International of Singapore, with which Beijing enjoys close ties. 

In addition to a naval base, Gwadar is to house a modern air-defence unit, a military garrison, a large Chinese-built refinery and petroleum-storage facilities. Already home to an incipient Chinese listening post, Gwadar is a central link in the emerging chain of Chinese forward-operating facilities around India. Situated next to the world’s busiest oil-shipping lanes, Gwadar is a likely port of call and refuelling point for the rapidly modernizing Chinese navy. More than arming Pakistan with critical strategic depth, Gwadar potentially opens the way to the arrival of Chinese submarines in India’s backyard in the coming years.

            For China, Gwadar is a key maritime outpost to monitor developments in the Indian Ocean and the Gulf and to keep an eye on Indian and US naval patrols, including the naval bases in western India and the large American base at Diego Garcia, whose importance for US regional military strategy is set to rise after the Iraq debacle. 

 

The Baluchi insurrection, however, instils uncertainty about Gwadar’s future, with the new port already stoking the nationalist fire. Such is the threat that Musharraf, in his port-opening speech, was constrained to warn insurgents to “surrender their weapons and stop creating hurdles in the progress of Baluchistan” or be “wiped out.”  

China’s rise as an oil importer since 1994 and its more-recent voracious craving for energy resources have served as justification for its growing emphasis on the seas and its plans to build a blue-water navy. Its energy drive and desire to safeguard vital sea lanes, however, dovetail with its strategic efforts to build a string of pearls. For long, it has worked to box in India. 

The planned energy corridors on either side of India symbolize China’s mercantilist efforts to assert control — at New Delhi’s expense — over oil and gas assets and monopolize transport routes. That has been underlined by the way state-run Chinese companies, with their deep pockets and ruthless tactics, have signed energy deals in Iran and Burma, including to source gas from two partly Indian-owned Burmese blocks.

Not content with the six offshore and five onshore gas blocks it has already awarded to China, the Burmese junta now has chosen Beijing over New Delhi for selling the gas from the two fields where two Indian state-owned firms together hold a 30 per cent stake. A March 14 MoU with Beijing says Burma will sell to China “the entire natural gas” from the partly Indian-owned A-1 and A-3 blocks in the western Rakhine offshore region. The gas will be shipped through a 2,380-kilometre pipeline from Kyaukypu, on the Bay of Bengal, to Rili in Yunan. And in return, China will pay an annual transit fee of $150 million for 30 years for the pipeline’s 990-kilometre stretch through Burma.

India’s ability to avert the emergence of a Beijing-oriented Asia will hinge on its success in retaining its domination in the Indian Ocean. A China that expands its presence in the Indian Ocean and exerts increasing influence over the regional waterways and over Burma, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and Nepal will pave the way for a Sino-centric Asia and for a greater strategic squeeze of India. 

Pakistan, of course, is not averse to a Sino-centric Asia and indeed would like China to complete its strategic encirclement of India. After all, China has been Pakistan’s “all-weather” ally, with their friendship billed as “taller than the Himalayas and deeper than the oceans.” Pakistan not only welcomes China’s maritime ambitions but also views Gwadar’s Chinese connection as essential to break India’s domination in the Indian Ocean.

Even so, India should leave Beijing in no doubt that using Gwadar for military purposes would be a serious escalation of Chinese containment and counterproductive, increasing strategic friction and rivalry and undermining prospects for interstate energy cooperation. 

The main reason India has come under increasing Chinese pressure is its retreat to a more and more defensive position. If India is to keep the Chinese navy out of its backyard, it has to start exerting naval power at chokepoints critical to its strategic interests. If India does not guard the various gates to the Indian Ocean — through its exercise of power and through strategic partnerships with key players — it will confront the Chinese navy in the Bay of Bengal and the Arabian Sea.

http://203.197.197.71/presentation/leftnavigation/opinion/op-ed/dragon’s-foothold-in-gwadar.aspx

(c) Asian Age, 2007 

Two contrasting cases of proliferation: Pakistan & Iran

 
 Drawing courtesy: http://www.warlordsofafghanistan.com/pervez-musharraf.php

 

Double Standard at the UN

 

Brahma Chellaney International Herald Tribune

 
NEW DELHI Nothing better illustrates the way global efforts to halt nuclear proliferation are at the mercy of international politics than the contrasting responses of the United Nations Security Council to the two latest proliferation cases. Iran was handed an excessively harsh diktat to cease doing what it insists is its lawful right, while Pakistan has received exceptionally lenient treatment, despite the discovery of a major nuclear black-market ring run by Pakistani scientists and intelligence and military officials.
 
The uncovering of the illicit Pakistani supply network, which has been operating for at least 16 years, exposed the worst proliferation scandal in history. Yet in response the Security Council passed a resolution that made no reference to Pakistan, or even to the nuclear smuggling ring, but instead urged the entire world to share the responsibility. Resolution 1540 obligates all states to legislate and implement tight domestic controls on materials related to weapons of mass destruction so as to ensure that non-state actors do not get hold of them.
 
In contrast, the Security Council’s tough line on Iran was expressed in a strongly worded resolution that set an August 31, 2006, deadline. To "make mandatory" Iran’s cessation of all nuclear fuel-cycle activity, Resolution 1696 states that the Security Council "demands, in this context, that Iran shall suspend all enrichment-related and reprocessing activities, including research and development, to be verified by the International Atomic Energy Agency."
 
The difference between these approaches is all the more startling given that the Security Council is acting against Tehran on reasonable suspicion but not clinching evidence, while Islamabad has admitted that the Pakistani ring covertly transferred nuclear secrets (including enrichment equipment and nuclear-bomb designs) to Iran, Libya and North Korea. The exporting state has been allowed to escape international scrutiny and censure while the importing state is being put in the doghouse.
 
The resolution on Iran acknowledges that the Security Council is acting not on conclusive proof but because there are "a number of outstanding issues and concerns on Iran’s nuclear program, including topics which could have a military nuclear dimension." But the council has refrained from doing the obvious to settle the outstanding issues relating to Iran’s past unlawful imports – empower the International Atomic Energy Agency to investigate the supply chain in Pakistan.
 
Iran has to shoulder much of the blame for the rising concerns over its nuclear program. It was not until an Iranian dissident group blew the whistle in 2002 that Tehran admitted it had built undeclared facilities in Natanz and Arak. To this day, however, technical assessments by the IAEA still affirm there is no "evidence of diversion" of nuclear materials for nonpeaceful purposes by Iran.
 
The Security Council has to act wisely and ensure that it does not follow double standards that undermine its credibility and effectiveness. After allowing Pakistan to get off scot-free, despite having been caught red-handed running the world’s biggest nuclear proliferation ring, the council should not seek to make amends by prematurely penalizing Iran.
 
A certain balance is necessary, or else Iran may emulate Pakistan and go overtly nuclear. In fact, by implicitly condoning Pakistani proliferation while taking a tough line on Iran, the Security Council has already sent a message to Tehran that it pays to be a nuclear-weapons state.
 
In the case of the far-reaching Pakistani network, a single individual, Abdul Qadeer Khan, was conveniently made the scapegoat in a charade that saw Pakistan’s military leader, General Pervez Musharraf, pardon him and then shield him from international investigators by placing him under indefinite house arrest.
 
While Iran is being demonized for certain suspect activities, the world has been made to believe that Khan set up and ran a nuclear Wal-Mart largely on his own.
 
The Security Council needs to rethink the wisdom of a resolution that commands Iran to accept a standard applicable to no other country. The attempt to single out Iran and enforce a discriminatory standard could well prove counterproductive, if it provoked Tehran to withdraw from the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty and kick out IAEA inspectors.
 
What is needed is a new global consensus on standards governing fissile-material production, not an arbitrary regime that divides the nonnuclear world into fuel-cycle possessors and a single fuel-cycle abstainer. It is not helpful when the Security Council acts as if the military regime in Islamabad is on the right side of international politics but the clerical regime in Tehran is detestable and thus presumed guilty.
 
At present, Iran is years away from acquiring a nuclear- weapons capability. Through prudent diplomacy backed by stringent IAEA inspections, the Security Council can still ensure that Iran will remain free of nuclear weapons.
 
Brahma Chellaney is a professor of strategic studies at the privately funded Center for Policy Research in New Delhi.
 
 

Naiveté on the nuclear deal

TAKEN FOR A RIDE

The still-uncertain India-U.S. nuclear deal is becoming more about symbolism than substance

By BRAHMA CHELLANEY

(C) The Hindustan Times, April 3, 2007 

 Drawing: India Daily

A recurring theme in Indian foreign policy has been exuberance and embellishment followed by the painful dawn of realism and even disillusionment. Take the vaunted nuclear deal with the United States. When it was sprung as a surprise on the nation in 2005, it came adorned with catchwords such as ‘historic’, ‘path-breaking’ and ‘a diplomatic coup’. By 2006, that exhilaration had given way to hard realities. And now in 2007, misgivings have begun to smite the establishment.

Talleyrand, the patriarch of modern diplomacy who served several French rulers including Napoleon, set a central precept for pragmatic foreign policy: “Above all, not the slightest zeal”. Policy founded on grandiose, spur-of-the-moment initiatives and gushy expectations is antithetical to national interest.

Almost 33 years after its first nuclear test and nearly a decade after it declared itself a nuclear-weapons state (NWS), India still does not have a minimal, let alone a credible, deterrent, although it is the world’s only nation to face two adversarial and allied nuclear neighbours. India launched its nuclear programme before China but still lacks a rudimentary deterrent with the requisite reach. 

Instead of addressing this glaring deficiency on a priority basis, what does India do? It puts its nuclear programme — its only strategic asset — on the negotiating table with the U.S. and decides to profligately import more conventional weapons, although it embarrassingly remains the only large nation dependent on arms imports to meet basic defence needs.

How well-thought-out the nuclear deal was can be seen from this admission of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh in Parliament on August 3, 2005: “the final draft came to me from the U.S. side” only upon reaching Washington, and the absence of nuclear chief Anil Kakodkar in the delegation “held up our negotiations for about 12 to 15 hours”. The reasons he proffered for rushing into the deal were twofold: nuclear power was essential to meet India’s burgeoning energy needs; and this was a ‘clean’ source of energy to fight climate change. 

            Before long, however, the government’s own energy-policy report demolished the first reason, pointing out that the capital-intensive nuclear power could play only a marginal role in meeting energy needs. And atomic authorities revealed an interest in importing only up to eight power reactors before switching to fast breeders. In fact, nuclear power’s current share of 2.9 per cent in India’s total electricity supply is projected to fall, not rise, over the next decade as the contribution of other energy sources increases faster.

As for the second reason, the front-end of nuclear power may be ‘clean’ but the back-end is remarkably dirty, with the safe disposal of radioactive wastes posing technical and environmental challenges. If the concern is climate change, the focus ought to be on the U.S., which produces 25 per cent of the global carbon-dioxide emissions with only 4.5 per cent of the world’s population. It belches twice as much C0² per capita as Japan despite similar per-capita income. If the world’s biggest greenhouse-gas emitter refuses to meet even the modest targets of the 1997 Kyoto Protocol, should India pay for its energy sins?

Not a single reactor has been built in the U.S. for three decades because nuclear-power economics remain unfavourable despite tax concessions and other sops. Yet India craves to import a technology that U.S. power producers shun as uneconomical. Global uranium prices alone have climbed 10-fold in five years. The best option for addressing energy security and climate change is offered by renewables, which today produce nearly a third of India’s electricity — above the world average.

The Indian head-in-the-clouds approach, however, didn’t last long. Indeed, by March 2006, the PM had formally forsaken his solemn promises to get India the “same benefits and advantages” as America and undertake only such “responsibilities and obligations” as applicable to NWSs. And by December 2006, New Delhi was actually crying foul after getting caught in a double-bind. 

It complained that many provisions of the new India-specific Hyde Act were either “prescriptive” in ways incompatible with the deal or “extraneous” to engagement “between friends”. The PM went on to declare that “there are areas which continue to be a cause for concern”, while Kakodkar said the new U.S. law has “fairly large number of sections” that “contain or cap the Indian strategic programme”.

True, never before in U.S. history has a law been enacted imposing such numerous and mortifying conditions on an avowed strategic partner as the Hyde Act does freely over 41 pages — that too to permit restrictive cooperation in just one area. But had New Delhi controlled its zeal, it would have foreseen what was coming. After all, Washington never hid its non-proliferation aim to foil India’s rise as a full-fledged NWS. Rather than cry betrayal, New Delhi should own up to how it led itself up the garden path. 

Today, with only the first of its five phases complete, the deal’s future remains uncertain. Indeed the deal is becoming more about symbolism than substance. The deal does not seek to lift the main sanctions hurting India — the panoply of export controls on advanced and dual-use technologies. Rather, in a classic case of seeking to give with one hand and take with the other, it legislatively underpins missile and space sanctions in return for a conditional loosening of civil nuclear controls. What the deal offers at the end of a long, conditions-laden process is something India can do without: the right to import high-priced power reactors dependent on external fuel supplies. By contrast the strategic benefits it confers on the U.S. are direct and immediate.

In one stroke, by merely dangling a carrot, the Bush administration advertised a supposed paradigm shift in its policy and helped bring New Delhi within its sphere of influence. Washington could not have done better than to employ a concession that remains more symbolic than concrete to dramatically alter perceptions in India and bring to fruition its larger strategic plan. 

That the deal has brought India within the U.S. strategic sphere is evident from a number of instances: the two Indian votes against Iran in Vienna; Indian acquiescence to an overt U.S. role in countries in India’s strategic backyard, such as Nepal, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh; and the increasing alignment of Indian policy with U.S. policy on Pakistan.

            To be sure, U.S. big business is keen the deal takes effect because tens of billions of dollars in potential arms and reactor contracts are tied to it. But by attaining a prime U.S. strategic objective beforehand, the deal provides a much-needed feather for Bush’s empty cap. Whether the deal is realized or not is a matter the politically besieged Bush is glad to leave to bureaucrats to wrestle with.

In any event, by legalizing a near-maximalist position and setting a high bar for India, the U.S. sits pretty in the negotiations. A beseeching India now hankers for clarifications and small mercies, like assured fuel supply and spent-fuel reprocessing. At best, India can get semantic compromises that paper over fundamental differences and defer its day of reckoning. If and when India meets all the stipulated preconditions, the U.S. Congress will have a second shot at vetting and approving the deal — and possibly adding more grating conditions. The ongoing process seems set to politically outlive the principal characters on both sides.

The deal (or really the lack of it) has already become an object lesson on how not to conduct diplomacy. Instead of following Talleyrand and statecraft canons, India helped the U.S. put into practice an inimitably American precept: “Diplomacy is letting the other party have your way”.

(c) Hindustan Times, 2007

http://www.hindustantimes.in/news/181_1963510,00120001.htm

 

Courtesy: desicritics.org/2006/07/27/023426.php

Time for India to Draw the Line With China

 
Will India-China border talks ever end?

(c) Japan Times

For 25 years, India has been seeking to settle by negotiation with China the disputed Indo-Tibetan frontier. Yet, not only have the negotiations yielded no concrete progress on a settlement, but they also have failed so far to remove even the ambiguities plaguing the long line of control.

Beijing has been so loath to clearly define the 4,057-km frontline that it suspended the exchange of maps with India several years ago. Consequently, India and China remain the only countries in the world not separated by a mutually defined frontline. By contrast, the Indo-Pakistan frontier is an international border, except in Kashmir, where there is a line of control that has been both clearly defined and delineated.

Every round of Sino-Indian border negotiations ends in predictable fashion — with warm handshakes and a promise to meet again. But after a quarter century of unrewarding negotiations with Beijing, India ought to face up to the reality that it is being taken round and round the mulberry bush by an adversarial state that has little stake in an early border resolution.

The more the talks have dragged on, the less Beijing has appeared interested in resolving the border disputes other than on its terms. In the period since 1981, China has realized a tectonic shift in its favor by rapidly building up its economic and military power. While keeping India engaged in sterile border talks, China has strengthened its negotiating leverage through its illicit nuclear and missile transfers to Pakistan and strategic penetration of Myanmar.

Today, Beijing gives the impression that an unresolved, partially indistinct border fits well with its interests. Indeed, it sees a strategic benefit in keeping hundreds of thousands of Indian troops pinned down along the Himalayas, thus ensuring that they will not be available against China’s "all-weather ally," Pakistan. This is the "third party whose interests China cannot disregard," as a Chinese official divulged at a "Track 2" dialogue that this writer co-organized in Beijing a few years ago. An unsettled border also endows China with the option to turn on the military heat along the now-quiet frontier if India plays the Tibet card or enters into a military alliance with the United States.

More importantly, China is sitting pretty on the upper Himalayan heights, having got what it wanted — by furtive encroachment or by conquest. It definitely sees no reason to strategically assist a potential peer competitor by lifting pressure on the borders through an amicable settlement.

Given these realities, India’s top priority from 1981 to 2002 was to get the line of control fully clarified while remaining open to any Chinese proposal for a complete border settlement. The accompanying confidence-building measures (CBM) were premised on the elimination of frontline ambiguities to help stabilize the military situation on the ground. But the process of adopting CBMs has advanced much faster than the parallel process of defining and delineating the frontline, farcically called "the line of actual control."

In 1996, the two countries, for example, signed a CBM prohibiting specific military activities at precise distances from a still-blurry frontline. That accord required the two countries, among other things, not to fly combat aircraft "within 10 kilometers of the line of actual control" (Article V.2) and not to "conduct blast operations within 2 kilometers of the line" (Article VI). The reality, though, is that there is no agreed frontline on maps, let alone on the ground.

It took two full decades of border talks before China agreed to exchange maps with India of even one border sector. In 2001, the Chinese and Indian sides exchanged maps showing each other’s military positions in the least-controversial middle sector. China then committed itself to an exchange of maps of the western sector in 2002 and the eastern sector in early 2003. The completion of an exchange of maps showing each other’s currently held military positions was intended — without prejudice to rival territorial claims — to define where actual control lay. Through such clarification of the frontline, the two sides intended to proceed toward mutual delineation on maps and perhaps even demarcation on the ground, pending a final settlement.

After the first exchange in 2001, however, China went back on its commitment, creating an impasse in the talks. Having broken its word, Beijing insisted that the two sides abandon years of laborious efforts to define the frontline and focus instead on finding an overall border settlement. That move clearly appeared to be a dilatory tactic intended to disguise its breach of promise.

If Beijing is not willing to take an elementary step of clarifying the frontline, why would it be willing to take far-bigger action to resolve the festering border problem through a package settlement? A final border settlement would be a complex process demanding not only a full resolution of the claims that involve large chunks of territory but also the demarcation of a clear-cut frontier.

The idea of a "package" settlement is not new. China began peddling that even before its 1962 invasion of India — as a red herring to divert attention from its aggressive designs. Since 1981, it has raised the same idea from time to time. But, to date, it has not once put forward a concrete proposal for consideration. If anything, the border talks have revealed that Beijing is not willing to settle on the basis of the status quo. This is manifest from its laughable claim to India’s Tawang region — as an extension of its annexation of Tibet.

Yet, during his 2003 Beijing visit, then Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee sought to propitiate China on two separate fronts: He formally recognized Tibet as "part of the territory of the People’s Republic of China," completing the process of India sacrificing its northern buffer; and he gave in to the Chinese demand to switch the focus of the border talks from frontline clarification to the elusive search for a package settlement. His concession to the hosts not only stalled the process of clarifying the frontline but also has taken India back to square one — to discussing the "principles" and "basic framework" of a potential settlement.

The two negotiating teams are now engaged in giving meaning to and implementing the six abstract principles trumpeted as another "breakthrough" in April 2005 during the New Delhi visit of Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao. The focus of the talks now, as admitted by both sides, is on applying the principles to devise a "basic framework" for negotiations. In other words, the two sides are still not close to actually discussing any package-settlement idea.

India needs to reflect on the wisdom of the course it has pursued. It not only rewarded Beijing in 2003 for an act of bad faith but also has played into its hands by switching from the practical task of clarifying the frontline to a conceptual enunciation of vacuous principles and a new framework for talks. A known strength of Chinese diplomacy is to discuss and lay out principles, and then interpret them to suit Beijing’s convenience, as India found out bitterly after signing the 1954 Panchsheel (Five Principles) agreement.

If New Delhi really believes in the maxim that good fences make good neighbors, it is time for it to draw the line, at least in the negotiations. But first it needs to re-evaluate the very utility of staying absorbed in a never-ending process that jibes well with Beijing’s India policy of engagement with containment.

 

Brahma Chellaney, professor of strategic studies at the privately funded Center for Policy Research in New Delhi, is a regular contributor to The Japan Times.
 
(c) Japan Times, 2006

Tibet is at the core of the India-China divide

Tibet is the Key

Brahma Chellaney

(c) Asian Age

The Sino-Indian spat over Arunachal Pradesh triggered by the Chinese ambassador’s loud-mouthed claim has brought home the truth that at the core of the India-China divide remains Tibet and that unless that issue is resolved, the chasm between the two demographic titans will not be bridged. After all, Beijing’s claim to Arunachal Pradesh or more specifically to a slice of it, Tawang, flows from Tibet’s putative historical or ecclesiastical ties with Arunachal.

Tibet thus lies at the heart of the disputes. To focus on Arunachal or even Tawang is not only to miss the wood for the trees, but also to play into the hands of China, which has sought to practise incremental territorial annexation. Having gobbled up Tibet, the historical buffer between the Indian and Chinese civilizations, Beijing now lays claim to Indian territories on the basis of not any purported Han connection to them but supposed Tibetan Buddhist ecclesiastical influence. A good analogy to China’s expansionist territorial demands was Saddam Hussein’s claim, following his 1990 invasion of Kuwait, to areas in Saudi Arabia on the basis of alleged Kuwaiti links to them.

Another reminder that Tibet remains the central issue was the recent shooting by Chinese border guards of unarmed Tibetans fleeing to India via Nepal through the 5,800-metre-high Nangpa-la Pass. There have been instances in the past of Tibetans being shot at by the paramilitary People’s Armed Police or the People’s Liberation Army at border crossings, but this was the first such incident captured on film and shown across the world on television.

The 41 survivors of that event who escaped gunfire and capture by Chinese troops on ice-covered Himalayan terrain have recounted in Dharamsala how the guards opened fire without warning on some 77 Tibetans, a majority of them teenage boys and girls seeking to pursue Tibetan Buddhist studies in schools run by the Dalai Lama. Beijing has confirmed two were killed, identified as a 25-year-old nun and a 13-year-old boy. The rest were arrested, and are likely to rot in jail.

       Beijing, having wrung the concessions it wanted out of India on Tibet, now is calculatedly signalling that Arunachal is its next priority. By publicly presenting Arunachal as an outstanding issue that demands “give and take,” it is cleverly putting the onus on India for achieving progress in the border negotiations. Lest the message be missed, New Delhi is being openly exhorted to make concessions on Arunachal, especially on strategic Tawang — a critical corridor between Lhasa and the Assam Valley of immense military import.

The choice before India now is stark: either to retreat to a defensive, unviable negotiating position where it has to fob off Chinese territorial demands centred on Arunachal or to take the Chinese bull by the horns and question the very legitimacy of Beijing’s right to make territorial jurisdiction claims ecclesiastically on behalf of Tibetan Buddhism when China has still to make peace with the Tibetans.

Either way it does not augur well for the border talks, already the longest between any two nations in modern world history. After a quarter-century of continuing negotiations, the border diplomacy has yielded no concrete progress on an overall settlement nor removed even the ambiguities plaguing the 4,057-kilometre frontline. Beijing has been so loath to clearly define the frontline with India that it broke its 2001 promise to exchange maps of the eastern and western sectors by the end of 2002.

Gently shining the diplomatic spotlight on the Tibet question will help India turn the tables on Beijing, whose aggressive territorial demands have drawn strength from New Delhi’s self-injurious and gratuitous acceptance of Tibet as part of China.  

At a time when China is threatening to divert the waters of River Brahmaputra, the subtle and measured revival of Tibet as an unresolved issue will arm India with leverage and international say on any Chinese effort to dam the Brahmaputra and reroute its waters. With water likely to emerge as a major security-related issue in southern Asia in the years ahead, India can hardly ignore the fact that the Indus, Sutlej and Brahmaputra originate in occupied Tibet.

       Tibet is the means by which India could coop up the bull in its own China shop. Beijing’s new hardline focus on Arunachal/Tawang is apparent not only from its failure to accept the Indian proposal for a new round of border talks in the run-up to President Hu Jintao’s India visit, but also from Chinese Ambassador Sun Yuxi’s extraordinary remarks on Indian soil that an entire Indian state belongs to his country. It is highly unusual for an envoy not only to make bellicose remarks, but also to do so on the eve of his president’s visit, unmindful of roiling the atmosphere.

As if to underscore that his statement to a television network was not unintentional, Ambassador Sun followed it up with another interview to an Indian wire service a couple of days later wherein he insisted that Arunachal was “a disputed area” and demanded that India agree to “mutual compromises” and “some give and take” in relation to that state. The Chinese foreign ministry, while harping on a negotiated settlement of the frontier disputes with India, did not take back anything that its ambassador said in New Delhi. It repeated its now-familiar slogan — “a solution that is fair, rational and acceptable” — even as it blocks progress in the border talks, continuing since 1981. 

Imperceptive or tactless statements or actions can hardly advance any country’s interests. But China, being a closed system, does not seem to understand that. That is the reason why communist China has a tradition of acting in ways unfavourable to its own long-term interests. One recent example of that is the way it helped rekindle Japanese nationalism by scripting anti-Japan mob protests in April 2005. Tokyo is now more determined than ever not to allow Beijing to call the shots in East Asia.

What is new is not China’s claim to Tawang or to the whole of Arunachal Pradesh but its brassy assertiveness in laying out in public its territorial demands, that too on the eve of Hu’s visit. What makes such forcefulness doubly astonishing is that its net effect will only be to reinforce India’s resolve not to cede further ground to China. Indian officials take an oath of office pledging to “uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India,” and it is unthinkable any Indian government would gift Tawang to China. As Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee has already put it, “Every inch of Arunachal is part of India.”

That Tawang is a Monba, not Tibetan, area is a conclusion that British surveyors Bailey and Moreshead painstakingly reached, leading Henry McMahon to draw his famous redline on the Survey of India map-sheets to Tawang’s north. Earlier at Simla in October 1913, the British Indian government and Tibet, represented by McMahon and Lonchen Shatra respectively, reached agreement on defining the frontier at that meeting, to which the Chinese delegate at the Simla Conference was not invited because all parties at that time, including China, recognized Tibet’s sovereign authority to negotiate its boundary with India. Even Ivan Chen’s map presented at the Simla Conference clearly showed Tawang as part of India.

An ecclesiastical relationship cannot by itself signify political control of one territory over another. However, in the two regions — Amdo (the birthplace of the present Dalai Lama) and Kham — where Tibet exercised undisputed ecclesiastical jurisdiction and political control, the occupying power has forcibly incorporated those areas in the Han provinces of Qinghai, Sichuan, Gansu and Yunnan. Before claiming Tawang to be part of Tibet, China should be told plainly to first restore Amdo and Kham to Tibet.

  

Yet, a disturbing pattern of belligerent Chinese statements is emerging without cause. A diplomat-cum-senior researcher at a Chinese foreign ministry-run think-tank, for instance, has suggested that India kick out the Dalai Lama if it wished to build “real and sustainable” relations with Beijing. In an interview with an Indian newspaper, Zheng Ruixiang said: “The Tibet problem is a major obstacle in the normalization of relations between India and China. India made a mistake in the 1950s by welcoming the Dalai Lama when he fled Tibet. It is now time for correcting the past mistake and building a real and sustainable relationship with China.”           

The pattern suggests that under the hardline Hu, who made his name in the Chinese Communist Party by ruthlessly quelling the 1989 anti-China protests in Lhasa as the martial-law administrator, Beijing may be striving to adopt a more forthright stance vis-à-vis India, including on the border disputes and the presence of the Dalai Lama and his government-in-exile in Dharamsala. Having consolidated his hold on power in the past year to emerge as China’s unchallenged ruler, Hu has begun suppressing dissent at home, strengthening the military and shaping a more nationalistic foreign policy. Hu may believe his regime can exert more strategic pressure on India, now that the railway to Tibet has been built and Pakistan’s Chinese-funded Gwadar port-cum-naval base is likely to be opened during his stop in Islamabad next week.

Given autocratic China’s penchant to act counterproductively, India should welcome the Chinese resurrection of the past and highlighting of bilateral disputes in public. What all this brings out is that Beijing is unwilling to settle the border disputes on the basis of the status quo. Not satisfied with the Indian territories it has occupied, either by conquest or by furtive encroachment, China wishes to further redraw the frontiers with India, even as it keeps up the charade of border negotiations.

The new Chinese brashness helps create the necessary leeway for India to re-evaluate its policy and approach and add more subtlety and litheness to its stance unilaterally accommodating China on Tibet and other issues. 

India needs to first grasp the damage to its China policy caused by Atal Bihari Vajpayee as prime minister. Both on Tibet and the border talks, he acquiesced to Chinese demands. He signed on to a document formally recognizing Tibet to be “part of the People’s Republic of China” and, by agreeing to a new framework of border talks focused on an elusive “package” settlement, he rewarded Beijing for its breach of promise to fully define the frontline through an exchange of maps.

China may have ceased its cartographic aggression on Sikkim through its maps, but the important point, often overlooked, is that it has yet to expressly acknowledge that Sikkim is part of India. While it now makes India accept in every bilateral communiqué the Vajpayee formulation that Tibet is “part of the People’s Republic of China,” Beijing till date has declined to affirm in a joint statement with New Delhi or even unilaterally that Sikkim is part of the Republic of India.

Sikkim was never an issue in Sino-Indian relations until Vajpayee made it one. He then ingeniously flaunted the Chinese “concession” on Sikkim as a cover to justify his kowtow on Tibet.

Tibet is India’s trump card, yet Vajpayee capriciously surrendered it to gain a dubious concession on Sikkim, over which China has never claimed sovereignty. All that China was doing was to depict Sikkim as an independent kingdom in its official maps. But such action made little difference to India. The world had accepted Sikkim’s 1975 merger with India, and it made little sense for New Delhi to surrender its Tibet card just to persuade Beijing to stop ploughing a lonely furrow — that too over a territory over which China had staked no claim. If an Indian concession on Tibet can ever be justified, it can only be in the context of making Beijing give up its claims on Indian territories, formalize the present borders and reach a deal with the Dalai Lama to bring him home from exile.

For India, the Dalai Lama is a powerful ally. When China annexed Tibet, India surrendered not only its extra-territorial rights over that buffer, but it also signed a pact in 1954 — the infamous “Panchsheel Agreement” — accepting Chinese sovereignty over Tibet without seeking any quid pro quo, not even the Chinese recognition of the then existing Indo-Tibetan border. That monumental folly stripped India of leverage and encouraged the Chinese communists to lay claims to Indian territories on the basis of Tibet’s alleged historical links with those areas.

The Panchsheel accord recorded India’s agreement both to fully withdraw within six months its “military escorts now stationed at Yatung and Gyantse” in the “Tibet Region of China” as well as “to hand over to the Government of China at a reasonable price the postal, telegraph and public telephone services together with their equipment operated by the Government of India in Tibet Region of China.”

If India still has any card against Beijing, it is the Dalai Lama. As long as the Dalai Lama remains based in Dharamsala, it is a great strategic asset for India. The Tibetans in Tibet will neither side with China against India nor accept Chinese rule over their homeland. If after the death of the present 71-year-old Dalai Lama, the institution of the Dalai Lama were to get captured by Beijing (like the way it has anointed its own Panchen Lama), India will be poorer by several army divisions against China.

It is not late for India to repair the damage from the blunders of Nehru and the closet-Nehruvian Vajpayee. The only way India can build counter-leverage against Beijing is to quietly reopen the issue of China’s annexation of Tibet and its subsequent failure to grant autonomy to the Tibetans, despite an express pledge contained in the 17-point agreement it imposed on Tibet in 1951.

This can be done by India in a way that is neither provocative nor confrontational. Building a mutually beneficial relationship with China does not demand appeasement on India’s part. And the alternative to appeasement is not provocation. Between appeasement and aggravation lie a hundred different options. 

India can start diplomatically making the point that China’s own security and well-being will be enhanced if it reaches out to Tibetans and grants genuine autonomy to Tibet through a deal that brings back the Dalai Lama from his exile in Dharamsala. If the Chinese ambassador to India can publicly demand “mutual compromises” on Arunachal — a statement portrayed by the Indian press as an attempt by him to “play down” his unabashed claim on Arunachal — is it too much to expect the new Indian ambassador in Beijing to genially appeal to China’s own self-interest and suggest it pursue “mutual compromises” with the Tibetans on Tibet?

(c) Asian Age November 18, 2006

 

When China Invaded India

The 1962 Chinese Invasion

 

Brahma Chellaney

(c) Hindustan Times 

At sunrise on October 20, 1962, China’s People’s Liberation Army invaded India with overwhelming force on two separate flanks – in the west in Ladakh, and in the east across the McMahon Line in the then North-East Frontier Agency.  The Chinese aggression, and the defeat and humiliation it wreaked on an unprepared India, remain deeply embedded in the Indian psyche.

            India was taken completely unawares by the invasion.  This reflected political naivete on its part.  It also bared a woefully flawed intelligence network that failed to pick up the movement of heavy artillery and other Chinese military activity along the Himalayan frontier in the months ahead.  The invasion of India was carefully planned well in advance and came after extended military preparations, including the improvement of logistics and the movement of heavy artillery from opposite Taiwan to Tibet, where PLA had since its annexation maintained infantry troops in large numbers to suppress the local population without the need to induct heavy weaponry.  That began to change by the spring of 1962, but Indian intelligence remained horrifically oblivious.

Decades later, some gnawing issues stand out.  One relates to the timing of the invasion masterminded by Mao Zedong.  The aggression was executed cunningly to coincide with the Cuban missile crisis that brought the United States and Soviet Union within a whisper of nuclear war. 

The timing, which precluded the possibility of India getting any immediate outside help, was made doubly favourable by two other developments – an American promise earlier in July to hold Taiwan from initiating hostilities across the straits that enabled China to single-mindedly mobilise against India, and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev’s subtle yet discernible tilt towards Beijing on the Sino-Indian border issue in an apparent effort to buy Chinese support in the looming Soviet confrontation with the United States.

            Two key interrelated questions need to be addressed. Why did Mao order the invasion?  And having captured most of the forward Indian military posts in both sectors in the first wave of assaults, why did Beijing carry out a second, more vicious round of attacks after a gap of three weeks?  Mao had several objectives on his mind in turning border skirmishes into a full-fledged war.  None was military.

            Mao’s aims were mainly political.  The military objectives had largely been achieved in the earlier years through furtive PLA encroachments that had, for example, brought Aksai Chin under Chinese control.  The PLA – not an independent power centre then – was merely an instrument to help Mao accomplish his political objectives in 1962.  Roderick MacFarquhar, in the third and final volume of his masterwork, The Origins of the Cultural Revolution, published in 1997, aptly calls the aggression “Mao’s India War”. 

            The first political objective was to humiliate India, China’s Asian rival.  Mao was determined to cut India to size and to undermine what India represented – a pluralistic, democratic model for the developing world that seemingly threatened China’s totalitarian political system. 

The PLA’s military adventure against India was clearly punitive in nature, a judgement reinforced by Premier Zhou Enlai’s ready admission that it was intended “to teach India a lesson” – a lesson India has not forgotten to this day.  The second wave of assaults was designed to heap ignominy by soundly thrashing India.  Such have been the long-lasting effects of the humiliation it imposed that China to this day is able to keep India in check, despite transferring weapons of mass destruction to Pakistan and opening a new strategic front through Myanmar.

            Another aim of Mao was to wreck the image of Nehru, who until then had been a towering figure on the international stage and an icon in many parts of the developing world.  Nehru stood diminished and demolished by November 1962.  Defeat, especially decisive defeat, usually turns a statesman into a beaten, worn-out politician and shatters a nation’s international standing.  The crushing rout, in fact, hastened Nehru’s death. 

            But more than Mao, it was Nehru who contributed to his own disgrace by blundering twice on China.  His first blunder was to shut his eyes to the impending fall of Tibet even when Sardar Patel had repeatedly cautioned him in 1949 that the Chinese communists would annex that historical buffer as soon as they installed themselves in Beijing.  An overconfident Nehru, who ran foreign policy as if it were personal policy, went to the extent of telling Patel by letter that it would be a “foolish adventure” for the Chinese Communists to try and gobble up Tibet – a possibility that “may not arise at all” as it was, he claimed, geographically impracticable!

            In 1962, Nehru, however, had to admit he had been living in a fool’s paradise.  “We were getting out of touch with reality in the modern world and we were living in an artificial atmosphere of our creation,” he said in a national address after the Chinese aggression.

Nehru had ignored India’s military needs despite the Chinese surreptitiously occupying Indian areas on the basis of Tibet’s putative historical ties with them, and setting up a land corridor to Pakistan-occupied Kashmir through Aksai Chin.  Although Indian military commanders after the 1959 border clashes and casualties began saying that they lacked adequate manpower and weapons to fend off the PLA, Nehru ordered the creation of forward posts to prevent the loss of further Indian territory without taking the required concomitant steps to beef up Indian military strength, including through arms imports.  Nehru had convinced himself grievously that the Chinese designs were to carry out further furtive encroachments on Indian territory, not to launch major aggression. 

            A third objective of Mao was to undermine India’s non-aligned status.  No sooner the PLA began the first wave of assaults than an unnerved Nehru appealed to the United States for military help.  He implored that Washington grant military aid without insisting on a formal alliance.  But no U.S. military aid came while the Chinese were still attacking India.  Kennedy waited until Khrushchev’s capitulation over missiles in Cuba before sending Nehru a letter promising “support as well as sympathy”. 

When the PLA launched the second series of attacks, the U.S. carrier force, USS Enterprise, steamed not towards the East or South China Sea but towards the Bay of Bengal to serve as a psychological prop to the besieged Indians.  John Kenneth Galbraith wrote in his memoirs, Ambassador’s Journal, that he had, as U.S. Ambassador to India, recommended the despatch of the aircraft carrier to ease Indian nerves.

Once Beijing declared a unilateral cease-fire, the issue of U.S. arms sales to India got caught in the perennial and still-prevalent U.S. demand – that New Delhi open talks with Pakistan on Kashmir – forcing the Nehru government to hold five rounds of futile discussions with Islamabad as a quid pro quo for receiving low-line American arms.  The Chinese aggression was seen in Washington as creating an opportunity for what America has always desired and still seeks to pursue – closer and better ties with India while maintaining old bonds with Pakistan – to help promote ‘regional stability’, a euphemism for subcontinental balance.    

            A fourth objective of Mao, who had been seething over Nehru’s grant of sanctuary to the Dalai Lama and his followers, was to effectively cut off India’s age-old historical ties with Tibet.  In one stroke, all outside links with Tibet – religious, temporal, cultural, medicinal and trade – collapsed.  This meant that Tibetans could no longer maintain their ancient ties with Gaya, Sarnath, Sanchi and other seats of monasteries, and that Indians no longer had access to Mansorovar Lake and Mount Kailash.

            Fifthly, the war came handy to Mao for domestic politics.  At a time when China’s economic calamities, including famines, and Mao’s insistence on a domestic class struggle were spurring grassroots problems, the swiftness and brute power with which he managed to teach India a lesson not only boosted China’s image internationally, but also helped him to politically consolidate at home.  Success, after all, has a thousand fathers, while defeat leaves an orphan.

            What Indian policy did not appreciate then and has yet to come to terms with is that the invasion was triggered more by a Chinese ambition to dominate Asia than by a territorial dispute.  In that sense, 1962 represented far more than the loss of national pride or territory for India; it meant the beginning of an undeclared war for pre-eminence in Asia – a raging war in which India has steadily lost ground, with China making inroads into even the traditional spheres of Indian influence, including Nepal, Sri Lanka, Myanmar and Bangladesh.

            For Mao, it was a victory for the asking, because the Indian leadership had made no effort to plug the glaring vulnerabilities in the defence of India.  In true Sun Tsu style, however, Mao waited for the right time to strike, invading India when it least expected to be attacked.  The PLA’s preparations to invade India started after 1959 but were camouflaged in the form of extended border negotiations that Beijing held with New Delhi.

Border negotiations with India were employed not only to feign reasonableness but, more importantly, to buy time for military consolidation and to bide time for the right opportunity to strike.  The building of border roads after 1959 was indicative of the Chinese efforts to upgrade military logistics along the mighty Himalayas.

In the same vein, the current series of largely fruitless border talks since 1981 – the longest continuing inter-state negotiations in post-World War II history – serve as a cover for China to pursue containment of India with engagement. 

Also, in a fashion reminiscent of the current Beijing approach to depict all Chinese actions as defensive and peaceful, Mao sought to paint India as the provoker with its ‘forward policy’ – a line of reasoning lapped up by some biased Western analysts, particularly a self-confessed Maoist, British journalist Neville Maxwell, who contended in his book, India’s China War, that it was India that had been the aggressor.

When the PLA marched hundreds of miles south to annex Tibet and establish a Sino-Indian military frontier for the first time in history, that was supposedly not expansionist or forward policy.  But when the Indian Army belatedly sought to set up posts along its unmanned frontier in Ladakh to try and stop further Chinese land grabs, this was christened ‘forward policy’ and dubbed provocative!

The Indian predilection for talk rather than action was on brazen display in the run-up to the 1962 war.  This was best illustrated by Nehru’s offhand remarks to reporters while leaving for Colombo on October 12: “Our instructions are to free our territory.  I cannot fix the date, that is entirely for the Army”.  Such loose talk was a god-send to the Chinese communists to fix the date for their attack.

            Mao needed no Indian provocation to launch a military attack.  He was provoked by his own logic to defeat the alternative model that India represented and the ideas and principles that Nehru symbolised.  Had India not started building forward posts, Mao would have found some other pretext to attack India.

In fact, Nehru, the architect of the Hindi-Chini bhai bhai festivity, had gone out of his way to propitiate communist China, accepting even the Chinese annexation of Tibet in a 1954 agreement without settling the Indo-Tibetan border.  While Nehru thought he had bought peace with China by accepting Chinese rule over Tibet on the basis of his doctrine of panchshila, or the five principles of peaceful co-existence, Mao and his team read this both as a sign of India’s weakness and a licence to encroach on strategically important areas of Ladakh.

Not only did the Nehru government cling to the belief that China was a benign neighbour despite the 1959 border clashes, its thinking and policy also precluded the defence of India on the Kautilyan principle that to maintain peace, a nation had to be ready to defend peace. 

Official policy had steadfastly refused to consider China to be a military threat, let alone to adopt counter-measures against the threat.  Forward posts were created not to militarily assert India’s claims by positioning troops at vantage points but to affirm a political line.  It was for reason that these posts were thinly manned and often on low ground in direct contravention of military logic.  In fact, the yawning mismatch between the officially encouraged perception of China and the ‘benign’ neighbour’s brutal aggression added to the severity of the shock that battered India.

So betrayed was Nehru by Mao’s war that he had this to say on the day the Chinese invaded: “Perhaps there are not many instances in history where one country has gone out of her way to be friendly and cooperative with the government and people of another country and to plead their cause in the councils of the world, and then that country returns evil for good”.

Four decades later, India has not forgotten the central lesson it was taught by Mao.  India’s rise as a military power with independent nuclear and missile capabilities is the consequence of a lesson learned.  Had the debacle not set in motion India’s military modernisation and reform of its defence techniques and strategies, India would not have fared well against Pakistan in the 1965 and 1971 wars.  In fact, without the post-1962 military buildup, it could well have lost the Kashmir valley to Pakistan in 1965.  However, with foreign policy still being shaped by personal predilections and idiosyncrasies rather than by institutional processes, India continues to repose faith in adversaries and then cries foul when they deceive it, as Kargil showed. 

 

II

A Question of Timing 

Brahma Chellaney

Mao directed two double-front attacks on India within a span of about a month.  In the style recommended by ancient Chinese strategist Sun Tzu who authored the treatise, The Art of War, Mao chose an exquisite time for perpetrating a ‘Himalayan Pearl Harbour’ against India.

The first wave of assaults on Indian border positions in Ladakh and NEFA began on October 20, 1962, five days after the CIA formally determined the presence of medium-range ballistic missiles in Cuba on October 15 through reconnaissance photographs taken the previous day, triggering a major U.S. showdown with Moscow. 

A day before the PLA launched the attacks on India, Radio Moscow was citing U.S. naval manoeuvres in the Caribbean as preparations for an invasion of Cuba.  And the day the Chinese forces came pouring across the Himalayas, U.S. President John F. Kennedy had already put into effect a naval quarantine of Cuba.  By the time the Chinese halted their weeklong incursions into NEFA, while continuing to pick and target Indian posts in Aksai Chin, the Cuban missile crisis had brought the world to the edge of a nuclear Armageddon.

            Not content with the PLA’s battlefield victories against the outnumbered and outgunned Indian forces, Mao decided to launch a second wave of military assaults on India while the Americans and Russians were still embroiled in the Cuban crisis.  The threat of a nuclear holocaust had eased after Khrushchev gave in on October 28 and agreed to withdraw the nuclear-armed missiles from Cuba.  But the missile crisis was still lingering, with troops in Cuban military uniform taking up positions around the Soviet missile sites and strongman Fidel Castro refusing UN on-site inspections in Cuba as well as the withdrawal of Il-28 bombers.

            Making the most of the continuing global preoccupation with the Cuban missile crisis, and rushing to capitalise further before the abating crisis wound up, Mao employed the PLA for a second round of two-front attacks on India starting on November 18, a day before Castro gave in to the withdrawal of Il-28s. 

So scared were Indian policy-makers by a self-created fear that Calcutta would be bombed that they did not employ their superior air force against the invading Chinese, ignorant as they were of the fact that China had only one or two airfields in Tibet and that its fighter aircraft (including Ilyushin 24) were distinctly inferior to India’s British-made Hunters.  Had India employed its offensive air power, it could have overcome its tactical disadvantage of lacking artillery in Ladakh and been in a position to hit hard the foot and mule columns of the Chinese in the Tawang area.  But New Delhi was possessed by an irrational fear of Chinese retaliation against Indian cities – a fear that created a sense of panic in Calcutta.

According to Colonel Anil Athale, who has co-authored the official history of the aggression, “the best-kept secret of the 1962 border war is that a large part of the non-military supplies needed by the Chinese reached them via Calcutta!  Till the very last moment, border trade between Tibet and India went on though Nathu La in Sikkim.  For the customs in Calcutta, it was business as usual and no one thought to pay any attention to increased trade as a battle indicator.”

And such was the panic in New Delhi to the advancing Chinese columns in NEFA that Jawaharlal Nehru thought the fall of the plains of Assam was imminent and pretty nearly said good-bye to the people there in a national broadcast.  On the evening of November 19, as the Army’s 4 Corps began preparations to pull out from Tezpur, a panic-stricken move that triggered the collapse of the local administration by the following day, Nehru told the nation: “Huge Chinese armies are marching into the northeast of India … yesterday we lost Bomdila, a small town in Kameng division. .. my heart goes out to the people of Assam”.  Till this day, Assamese extremists cite Nehru’s ‘abandonment’ of Assam to stir up secessionist sentiment.  

But on November 21, coinciding with Kennedy’s formal termination of Cuba’s quarantine, Beijing announced a unilateral ceasefire and its intent to withdraw from NEFA while keeping the gains on the west.  The first U.S. emergency military supplies to India began arriving by November 24 while the Chinese withdrawal from India’s northeast started from December 1.  Mao knew it would not be wise to continue waging war on India after the United States was free from the Cuban missile crisis.

Copyright: The Hindustan Times, 2002