In-betweenness of disconnection

Disconnection, in various forms, is not a new concept in the social sciences and humanities. Relevant work interrogates the epistemological and asymmetrical structures that shape disconnected and uneven moments, statuses, and practices on scales that are at once macro and micro, challenging the grand myth of unrestricted border-crossing and exposing the underlying spatial power asymmetries. In a similar vein, from its inception, Inter-Asia Cultural Studies has been a transnational movement of epistemological decolonisation and reimagination, one that remains acutely aware of unequal power structures within and beyond Asia. Among these asymmetries, the disconnection of Asian intellectual exchange (Chen and Chua Reference Chen, Chua, Chen and Chua2007; Iwabuchi Reference Iwabuchi2013; Leung and Kim Reference Leung and Kim2019) holds particular significance. As Chen (Reference Chen2016, p. 114) asserts, the movement seeks to “create conditions for our disconnected communities to interact and intersect.” Moreover, Chatterjee (Reference Chatterjee2018) eloquently demonstrates why, in postcolonial contexts, the project of connected history often remains an unfulfilled aspiration. More recently, the subfield of India–China cultural studies has seen a surge of interest in disconnection and other epistemological obstacles rooted in coloniality and local intricacies (Gvili 2023; Mangalagiri 2024; Wong Reference Wong2025). Aiming to critically reassess the horizontality, parity, and mutual understanding often emphasised in inter-Asia engagements and South-South allyships, they have increasingly interrogated the unequal power dynamics that shape relationships between multiple subjectivities within Asia. Studies on China–India disconnections complicate the assumption of a horizontal relationship among multiple Asias, as well as the binary, vertical framing of the West as the oppressor and Asia as the oppressed. Rather than merely identifying specific instances of disconnection, tracing their causes, and proposing comparative strategies to avoid similar obstacles in the future, scholars in this field adopt a different approach. They seek to reframe disconnection itself, problematising it without treating it as a problem. Their central question is not how to eliminate disconnection but rather: what should we do if disconnection is unavoidable?

Their exploration of this question affirms the intricate, productive potential of disconnection, rather than merely acknowledging or denying its positive or negative impact. For instance, framing disconnection as an “imperial unconscious,” Gvili (Reference Gvili2022, p. 9) demonstrates how the imagined South-South allyship between China and India – as represented in literature and opera during the twentieth century – was inevitably mediated through the languages of the North. However, recognising the epistemic impact of colonial mediation does not lead her to pessimism about its inevitability. Instead, she highlights the cracks that Chinese writers managed to forge within these knowledge structures, arguing that these spaces of disruption provided sites where Chinese writers could reshape and contest their subjectivities through the imaginative construction of India (ibid., p. 19). By shifting attention to these gaps, interstices, and ruptures, Gvili suggests that it is precisely within these fragmented spaces of disconnection that new subjectivities emerge. Similarly, Mangalagiri (Reference Mangalagiri2023, p. 6) conceptualises disconnection as “a crisis of transnational relation.” Through an analysis of three interrelated statuses of disconnection – friction, ellipsis, and contingency – she argues that disconnection can “give rise to its own particular logics of relation” (ibid., p. 193) and “spark new and unexpected possibilities of meaning-making” (ibid., p. 197). More recently, Wing-Kwong Wong has examined the negative moments in inter-Asian engagement, particularly those of mis-encounter, suggesting that “the inter-Asia encounters cannot but repeat and reenact the negative affect. Then the basic practices of Asia as a method as inter-referencing is not only about the reading and understanding of the comparable historical experience but perhaps also about the unavoidable misreading and misunderstanding” (Wong 2005, p. 22).

Borrowing from Niranjana’s critical reframing of inter-Asia referencing as an inter-Asia referencing methodology – “a system of broad principles and practices” (Niranjana Reference Niranjana, Niranjana and Wang2015, p. 5) – I describe these theoretical reflections on various forms of disconnection as an emerging inter-Asia disconnection methodology. Conventionally, disconnection is understood in terms of rupture, cessation, and separation, which often frames it negatively – as an abnormal deviation from an otherwise stable and continuous state. Within Asian historical narratives, we frequently encounter rhetoric celebrating an unbroken history of friendship. Such narratives tend to establish a binary opposition, framing continuity as a natural state while positioning disconnection as an external, unnatural disturbance. However, this article challenges such dichotomies. Drawing on knowledge production projects between China and Nepal from the 1910s to the 1940s, this article seeks to contribute to this methodology by foregrounding the in-betweenness of disconnection. It does not conceptualise gaps and intricacies as empty voids but rather as active spaces of movement in-between – what Ingold (Reference Ingold2015, p. 147) describes as: “a movement of generation and dissolution in a world of becoming, where things are not yet given – such that they might then be joined up – but on the way to being given.”

In-betweenness in disconnection within inter-Asian engagements – while acknowledging its unbridgeability – signifies a liberation and transference of subjectivity from its embeddedness in a single system to shifting, multiple historical, social, cultural, geopolitical, and physical contexts. These contexts are not isolated but rather entangled and dynamically interacting. As a temporal–spatial nexus, in-betweenness functions as “a means to be passed over to make the thought move,” which is “crucial to questioning rigidified knowledge frameworks and understanding these movements” (Wong et al. Reference Wong, Ding, Chang and Liu2025, p. 2). However, rather than serving merely as a conduit between what is already known and what is yet to be discovered (Valeriani Reference Valeriani2012), or as “a hope that there are other ways of articulating truths” (Hoveid Reference Hoveid2012), in-betweenness, manifested in “heterogeneous modes of transmission” (de Vienne and Déléage Reference de Vienne and Déléage2024, p. 29), itself is inherent to knowledge, aligning with Dewey’s assertion that “Society exists not only by transmission, by communication, but it may fairly be said to exist in transmission, in communication” (Reference Dewey1916, p. 5). Moreover, Wong (Reference Wong2025, p. 23) has insightfully observed that “This ‘inter’ is the in-betweenness, the interim, the interstice, the gap… the core of the experience of inter-Asia encounters of thoughts, which is the unbridgeable gap… in the inter-Asia transference… as an opening that could also be a rift or break.” Thus, disconnection in inter-Asia engagements does not signify a state of absolute non-communication. Instead, it represents a “locus for social, cultural, and natural transformation,” where the fluidity of becoming and openness to futurity surpasses the conservative drive for cohesion and unity (Grosz Reference Grosz2001, p. 90). The liminal, in-between, shifting, entangled, plural, and unstable nature of the knowledge production projects discussed here is precisely what the concept of disconnection seeks to capture.

As Li’s story illustrates, the early twentieth century for Nepal–China knowledge production has exemplified such non-binary, and/or (Weber Reference Weber2016), plural, and liminal nature of in-betweenness. On the one hand, the colonial imprint profoundly reshaped the epistemological foundations and hierarchical structures governing Chinese intellectual projects, in which Nepal was largely encoded through Western languages. On the other hand, such a power was not all-encompassing. Rather than operating as a totalising force, it paradoxically motivated Chinese intellectuals to recode China’s relations with Nepal, retracing local, Sino-centric historical narratives as a self-critical means of interrogating China’s contested geopolitical and international position. One might rightfully argue that Nepali subjectivity remains invisible in this matrix. However, it should not be entirely overlooked, as this matrix itself played a role in sustaining the momentum that paradoxically facilitated trans-Himalayan referencing. This process – though unstable – provided a productive foundation for knowledge-making. As Tsing (Reference Tsing2011, pp. 4–5) insightfully observes, such “awkward, unequal, unstable, and creative qualities of interconnection across differences” ultimately “lead to new arrangements of culture and power.”

Conceptualising these mediating gaps as spaces in-between – what Bhabha (Reference Bhabha1994, p. 4) describes as the “interstitial passage… [that] opens up the possibility of a cultural hybridity… without an assumed or imposed hierarchy” – allows for a more critical and comprehensive examination of Nepal–China mutual referencing projects. This perspective avoids both victimising them as mere products of colonial oppression and romanticising them as symbols of trans-Himalayan friendship. Reading Chinese intellectuals’ efforts to position Nepal as a reference point in the early twentieth century through the lens of awkward engagements (Tsing Reference Tsing2011) or mis-encounters (Wong Reference Wong2025), therefore, shifts attention to a liminal, experimental nexus of time and space, where Asian subjectivities are continuously contested, mediated, remixed, shaped, and reshaped through the knowledge-making process.

More broadly, theorists of inter-Asian engagements advocate for a reimagining of Asia as a dialogic communicative space, where intellectuals and cultural actors collaborate across borders to interconnect diverse voices, concerns, and issues within multiple, intersecting public arenas (Iwabuchi Reference Iwabuchi, De Kloet, Chow and Chong2020). While this vision is optimistic and future-oriented, it remains incomplete, as it often overlooks the unbridgeable gaps that persist within these intersections. By reading disconnection as a productive temporal–spatial nexus in-between, I suggest that coloniality and the epistemological barriers it interweaves are not fixed but contingent, shifting, and structured within plural power geometries (Massey Reference Massey2005). Recognising this fluidity does not diminish the structural inequalities embedded in inter-Asian knowledge production; rather, it provides a more nuanced understanding of the constraints and possibilities shaping these exchanges. This, in turn, allows for a lighter burden in approaching future inter-Asia engagements, making space for new modes of intellectual and cultural interaction.

Generally, I argue that it is precisely these non-binary dimensions of disconnection that open up new possibilities for reimagining inter-Asia exchanges, particularly in a world where colonial legacies have rendered intricacies and asymmetries inevitable. While coloniality has undeniably erected barriers that hinder direct modes of mutual understanding among Asian actors, it has also – consciously and unconsciously – given rise to contact zones (Pratt Reference Pratt1992), where Asian nations engage with one another as imagined referential objects to be studied, interpreted, and contested. It is through these countless disconnected moments that subjectivities – such as those of figures like Li Hongyin – and the modern imaginations of China, Nepal, and Asia are continually performed and articulated. In making this argument, I am not attempting to whitewash colonialism or frame coloniality as a necessary evil in the production of inter-Asia knowledge. Rather, my goal is to shift the discussion beyond the idealised framework of communication, urging readers to critically examine the unequal power structures that underlie inter-Asian interactions. To address this point, the next section examines an article published nearly two decades before Li Hongyin, highlighting an earlier instance in which a Chinese intellectual affirmed and reinforced confidence in China’s transformative potential through a reference to Nepal.

Reimagining modernity through the tributary lens

On 11 and 13 August 1911, Shen Bao (申報, 1872–1949) – a pioneering and influential newspaper of the late Qing and Republican era in China – published a two-part article that critically examined the traditional tributary relationship between China and Nepal. Titled The Discussion of Nepal (lun Niboer 論尼泊爾, Qiu Tong 1911a, 1911b), this intensive and critical piece reevaluated the conventional Nepal–China relationship, arguing that, in light of a rapidly changing, Western-dominated global order, the tributary system had, in effect, been nullified. Consequently, the article dismissed the Chinese government’s claims of suzerainty over Nepal.

The author of this article was the political activist Zhang Shizhao (1881–1973), who, at the time, was a 30-year-old political critic based in the United Kingdom. Writing under one of his many aliases, Qiu Tong (秋桐) (others included Qing Tong 青桐 and Gu Tong 孤桐), Zhang was a prominent figure in China’s political turbulence at that time. To briefly contextualise Zhang’s intellectual and political trajectory, he was an outspoken critic, publisher, and translator during the late Qing period, advocating for the overthrow of the monarchical system in China. In 1904, he took refuge in Japan, where he began learning English. Later, in 1908, he enrolled at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland, where he studied law, politics, and logic. During this period, he engaged deeply with European, particularly British, political philosophy and governance structures, publishing numerous articles introducing Western ideas to Chinese audiences (Huang Pu 2011). After the establishment of the ROC, Zhang returned to China with his family and held various academic and governmental positions. However, despite his early enthusiasm for Western political systems, his intellectual stance evolved over time. While he had once actively promoted Western knowledge and institutions, he later turned to Chinese and broader Asian traditions, viewing morality, cultural heritage, and indigenous knowledge as the foundation for local identity, solutions to modern challenges, and pathways to the future – rather than simply adopting Western industrialisation (Li Reference Li2008; Zuo Reference Zuo2010; Yao Reference Yao2016). At the core of his later cultural philosophy was the theory of harmonised hybridisation (tiao he调和), which proposed that new cultures do not replace old ones in an abrupt, complete, or immediate manner. Instead, Zhang believed that cultural change occurs gradually and organically, with hybridity being a fundamental and inevitable process (Guo Reference Guo2007). Although Zhang’s theory primarily used Western culture as a reference point in analysing China’s cultural transformations, he also actively engaged with other Asian countries, such as India, in his comparative studies. Thus, it could be argued that Zhang Shizhao was one of the early inter-Asia scholars.

In the opening paragraph of The Discussion, Zhang introduces his critique by juxtaposing two epistemological frameworks for understanding Nepal, using the divergent Chinese renderings of the country’s name to exemplify their asymmetrical positions. He characterises the traditional Chinese term, Kuo Er Ka (廓爾喀 Gorkha), as imprecise and lacking analytical depth, in contrast to the Western appellation Nepal, which he presents as enabling a more rigorous and systematic engagement. This initial contrast sets the stage for Zhang’s broader intervention. He subsequently discloses the immediate impetus for his writing: the Chinese state’s recent attempt to reassert suzerainty over Nepal and Bhutan – an effort promptly rebuffed by Britain, which reaffirmed the independent status of both polities. Significantly, Zhang’s critique is not aimed at Britain’s dismissal per se, but rather at the Chinese government’s unstrategic and ill-conceived assertion, which he frames as a humiliating symptom of the Qing empire’s declining diplomatic capacity.

To support his argument, Zhang (Qiu Tong 1911a) scrutinises the basis of China’s claim to suzerainty over Nepal, which, he argues, rests solely on the historical practice of Nepal sending tribute to Beijing every few years. He critiques this as part of China’s outdated method of controlling and pacifying barbarians and ultimately concludes that no substantive political relationship exists between China and Nepal. This assertion directly challenges the foundational myths of China’s imperial outreach. By contrast, Zhang highlights Nepal’s relationship with Britain as an exemplary model of modern statecraft, emphasising their formal treaties and military alliances. While acknowledging the inherent inequalities of such arrangements, he argues that these alliances enabled Nepal to integrate into the global community of civilised nations, primarily through its special relationship with Britain. Moreover, Zhang commends the then Prime Minister of Nepal, for his diplomatic acumen in fostering positive relations with Britain, which, in turn, spared Nepal from colonisation. This portrayal reflects Zhang’s admiration for realpolitik and strategic diplomacy, reinforcing his argument that China’s antiquated tributary mindset was inadequate for navigating the complexities of modern geopolitics.

In the latter section of The Discussion, Zhang adopts a rhetorical strategy centred on a sequence of eight pointed interrogatives, each designed to systematically challenge the foundations of China’s asserted suzerainty over Nepal. He contends that the failure to convincingly address even a single one of these questions would render China’s claim untenable. Drawing upon principles of international law, the author argues that sovereignty must be grounded in demonstrable and effective power rather than abstract or historical declarations. In this context, he suggests that although China continues to lay claim to absolute suzerainty over Nepal, such authority has, in practical terms, been defunct for more than 120 years (Qiu Tong 1911b). Consequently, Zhang concludes that the Chinese state ought to shift its focus away from reviving obsolete diplomatic claims and instead prioritise comprehensive domestic reform to exert meaningful influence abroad.

Much like the reading of Li’s work above, one may easily sense – and argue – that, despite the article’s title, Nepal is largely absent or at least overshadowed in Zhang’s discussion. While Zhang ostensibly sets out to analyse Nepal, his actual focus lies elsewhere – on the competition between different world orders, one dominated by China and the other by the West. In this context, Nepal functions less as a subject of inquiry and more as a comparative reference between these two competing systems. Moreover, it serves as a discursive channel through which Zhang projects both the hopes and anxieties surrounding the future of the Chinese nation-state. From this perspective, Nepal’s own subjectivity – its culture, identity, and historical agency – is rendered unimportant. What matters is not what Nepal is, where Nepal is, or how Nepal exists as a subjective cultural entity, but rather how Nepal can be used as a fragmented coordinate to construct a larger narrative about China’s position in the modern world.

Zhang Shizhao’s approach to Nepal was not unique but was, with some nuances, shared by many of his contemporaries (e.g. Sun Yat-sen 1939; Gesangzeren 1931; Li, Reference Li1930; Song Hua, 1930), who also wrote or spoke about Nepal. For instance, approximately twenty years after The Discussion, Gesangzeren (1931), an ethnic Tibetan and a founding member of the Mongolian and Tibetan Affairs Commission of the ROC (Wang Reference Wang2019), published an article titled The Previous Tribute from Nepal (Niboer yiqian de jingong 尼泊爾以前的進貢). While both The Discussion and Previous Tribute discuss the historical tributary relationship between Nepal and China, Previous Tribute appears more progressive, as it critiques not only Western colonisers but also the Qing Empire’s imperial policies. Unlike The Discussion, which laments China’s failure to maintain suzerainty over Nepal, Previous Tribute condemns this historical relationship as a product of seduction by wealth and vain glory (Gesangzeren 1931). However, a closer reading of Previous Tribute reveals that, despite its anti-imperial stance, it remains deeply Sino-centric – or more precisely, modernity-centric. Like Zhang’s work, it ignores Nepal’s subjectivity, using it instead as a conceptual lens through which a progressive China can be imagined. Ultimately, this perspective is driven by the dominance of modernisation discourse, which frames historical progress within a linear, hierarchical timeline, positioning Nepal and China at different points of advancement and backwardness. As Gesangzeren (1931) describes, according to the report of a Chinese envoy who recently returned from Nepal, Nepal is more advanced in terms of material infrastructure, possesses a vast army with a militaristic spirit, and – borrowing a European figure of speech – is Japan in the mountains. Thus, while Gesangzeren ostensibly describes Nepal, he is, in reality, constructing an idealised model of modernity and projecting this imagination onto Nepal through a comparative framework with China. In this framing, Nepal is modern and ahead, while China is backward and insufficiently modern. Yet, interestingly, Gesangzeren does not adopt a pessimistic stance towards China’s perceived backwardness. Instead, he optimistically argues that China, too, can progress and achieve modernisation, provided that it adheres to certain modernising principles (Ibid.).

To a large extent, the fundamental way in which Chinese intellectuals viewed Nepal did not significantly change between Zhang Shizhao and Gesangzeren over the span of twenty years. Nepal continued to be treated as a model of modernity, or a testing ground for China’s own modernisation efforts. While Chinese intellectuals sought to reference Nepal as an Asian counterpart that could offer parallel experiences of modernisation and progress, what they actually encountered was not an independent, self-determined Nepal, but rather a projection of universalised modernisation doctrines – doctrines largely dictated by European colonial epistemologies. The dominance of colonial language and epistemology in Chinese knowledge production on Nepal becomes even more evident when analysing another Chinese article on Nepal published two years after The Discussion. It suggests that China lacked its own indigenous knowledge of Nepal and was therefore compelled to rely on European sources – a belief that was widespread among many Chinese intellectuals at the time (Shou Gong 1913). In hindsight, this belief did not indicate a total void of knowledge but rather pointed to a perceived gap in knowledge – one that conformed to Western academic norms and standards, deemed more authoritative and compatible with the evolving global order. This raises a fundamental question: What is the meaning of attempting to understand other Asian actors when such efforts remain so deeply mediated by the colonial intervention?

Let us return to Zhang Shizhao again. As far as I know, The Discussion is the only study Zhang ever conducted on Nepal. Soon after writing the article, he shifted his focus away from the Himalayan kingdom and likely never returned to the subject for the rest of his life. This spontaneous, episodic engagement was a defining feature of most Chinese writings on Nepal during this period. Broadly speaking, these works reflect two types of epistemic rupture. The first, as I have repeatedly emphasised, is the obstruction created by colonial knowledge structures. The second is the discontinuity within knowledge networks themselves. Despite the fact that this was a relatively short period of engagement, there was no sustained transmission of knowledge about Nepal in China. Each time later researchers sought to study Nepal, they seemed to be starting from scratch, exploring an empty field. In other words, during these thirty years, China’s knowledge production on Nepal did not follow a stable trajectory of accumulation or linear progression, nor did new knowledge continuously replace older knowledge. However, this does not mean that China’s intellectual engagement with Nepal during this period was blank or a failure. I argue that these short-lived, disconnected moments of engagement were not entirely meaningless. Each time Nepal became an object of Chinese intellectual curiosity, it served as a vessel for projecting hopes and anxieties about China’s modern future. This transference of imagination and aspiration onto Nepal provided an essential catalyst for Chinese intellectuals to take an interest in and attempt to understand Nepal. More importantly, each act of imagining Nepal was simultaneously a process of re-examining and rearranging the power structures that organise cultures. The way Chinese intellectuals nuanced their attitudes towards the overarching theme of China/Asian modernisation reveals its historically grounded, heterogeneous dimensions, challenging the idea that modernisation was a hegemonic monolith. Here, in-betweenness does not simply refer to the space between past and future, between here and there, or between the known and the unknown. Instead, it reflects a fluid, contingent epistemic space where intellectuals, when finding their subjectivities constrained by dominant power structures, could still carve out room for self-preservation and, with limited resources, sustain and expand this space. This is not merely an act of absolute resistance but rather a tactical negotiation of power structures and available resources. Because these tactical movements operate within constraints, the knowledge produced in-between is often inconsistent, fragmented, and hybrid. However, the knowledge emerging from disconnected intellectual encounters with other Asian actors can provide both time and space for tactical navigation. In doing so, it allows Asian subjectivities to be contested and reconfirmed in the very process of knowledge production.

What I also find particularly inspiring in Zhang Shizhao’s analysis of Nepal is its focus on the transference of positive emotion and hope in the process of trying to understand other Asian actors. Allow me to take you back to The Discussion, in which, while Zhang strongly criticises the Chinese government’s backwardness in the new international order and its lack of preparation in provoking Britain, he ultimately concludes on a note of encouragement and inspiration:

Here, Zhang’s vision of modernisation and state-building suggests that cultural and political transformation is neither instantaneous nor absolute but rather gradual and strategic. His belief in China’s capacity to adapt and progress is ultimately what allows him to situate China within a dynamic historical trajectory rather than a static hierarchy of civilisation. As Zhang’s conclusion suggests, he remains optimistic despite China’s weakened position in the face of imperialist powers. Rather than viewing China’s weakness as an irreversible fate, he reframes it as a temporary condition, suggesting that it is ultimately a matter of time before China can regain its strength. In doing so, Zhang reconceptualises China’s temporal weakness as an in-between status – situated between a negative present and a promising future yet to come. This positive outlook, sense of confidence, and emphasis on preparation do not emerge in a vacuum. Rather, they are largely informed by Zhang’s reading of Nepal, which he perceives as an example of successful modernisation. By referencing Nepal, Zhang affirms and reinforces his confidence in China’s own potential for transformation.

Reflection and self-reflection through war

In this section, by examining war-triggered knowledge production in Chinese sources from the 1930s, I offer another example to demonstrate how seemingly disconnected moments between Asian actors can, paradoxically, become productive sites for knowledge-making. These moments facilitated the transference of subjectivities among Asian intellectuals, shaping their geopolitical imaginations.

In hindsight, the 1910s was a comparatively dormant period for Nepal-related knowledge production in China. Based on the primary sources I have examined, only a few news reports and translated works were published during this time. Moreover, these limited publications circulated primarily within elite intellectual circles, functioning more as narcissistic reflections than as knowledge intended for broader public engagement (Luo Reference Luo2013). One key reason for this limited engagement is that, despite their geographical proximity, Nepal has historically remained semi-agnostic towards China (Yang Reference Yang2024). However, this relative indifference changed dramatically in the 1930s. During the early years of that decade, there was a notable increase in Chinese knowledge production on Nepal, sparking wider debates in China about Nepal. Interestingly, this surge in interest did not stem from growing friendly and peaceful ties between the two states. On the contrary, it was the prospect of war between Nepal and China – one of the most brutal forms of human friction – that led to a significant rise in knowledge production and circulation.

Scholars of transculturation have long recognised the productive dimensions of war, as vividly articulated by Ouyang (Reference Ouyang and Seigneurie2019, p. 1), “War is a paradox … It can also be an arena of exuberant cultural exchange and meaning making.” Ironically, the peaks of Nepal-related knowledge production in Chinese before the mid-twentieth century – including the spike in 1930 – were not the result of friendly engagement, as official narratives often suggest. Rather, they were triggered by wars or impending conflicts. Strictly speaking, the Nepal–China war of 1930 never materialised, as diplomatic efforts ultimately averted military confrontation. However, the debates surrounding the war’s causes, potential developments, and strategic implications – particularly as a reminder of modern China’s border security vulnerabilities – garnered unprecedented attention from a diverse range of Chinese actors.

In 1929, a Lhasa-based Nepali, Sherpa Gyalpo, was detained by Tibetan authorities for engaging in the illicit trade of cigarettes and tobacco. The jurisdictional dispute over his arrest escalated tensions between Nepal and Tibet, reaching a critical point when Tibetan officials forcibly removed Gyalpo from the Nepali Legation, where he had sought refuge, and incarcerated him once again. In response, Nepal swiftly mobilised its military, prompting fears of aggression from the south. This escalation compelled Tibetan officials to seek assistance from the central government (Mishra Reference Mishra1991; Uprety Reference Uprety1980; Zhu Reference Zhu2016). Although diplomatic efforts ultimately prevented open conflict, the incident garnered extensive coverage in the Chinese media, significantly amplifying Nepal’s visibility within Chinese discourse. As a result, Nepal became a focal point for a range of national sentiments, including anti-imperialism, patriotism, and national pride, but also shock, insecurity, and, most critically, humiliation. At the time, a dominant theme in Chinese discussions on Nepal was the motif of national humiliation, which intricately linked concerns about border security and sovereignty with the broader discourse of national disgrace. This thematic engagement fostered a dialectical exchange among Chinese intellectuals – one that was both critical and deeply self-reflective, as observed by Callahan (Reference Callahan2004, p. 207). However, this introspective discourse did not manifest as hostility towards Nepal. Instead, it provoked a more profound self-examination within the Chinese intellectual community. A central and complex question emerged: How had Nepal – once a tributary state – managed to outpace China?

For many Chinese intellectuals, the explanation for Nepal’s comparative advancement lay in its successful strides towards modernisation, which starkly contrasted with China’s relative stagnation. But how did contemporary Chinese intellectuals interpret Nepal’s modernisation? The experiences of two Chinese envoys, who travelled to Nepal to ease tensions and strengthen diplomatic ties, may offer valuable insights. In May 1930, the Chinese government dispatched Bao Wenjun, an officer from the Mongolian and Tibetan Affairs Commission to Nepal for negotiations – perhaps making him the first Chinese official to visit Nepal in the twentieth century. Upon his return, Bao submitted official reports to the Chinese government, which were later cited in newspapers for public dissemination. In these reports, Bao highlighted Nepal’s material development, emphasising its Western-style transportation and architecture, as well as its martial population (Shishi Xinbao 1939; The Sheng-Ching Shih Pao 1930). Approximately a year later, Zhang Ming was sent by the Chinese government to Nepal to confer military ranks and present gifts to the Nepali Prime Minister, as part of an effort to develop diplomatic relations in the aftermath of potential military conflict. Upon his return, Zhang expressed deep admiration for Nepal’s modernisation, citing its independence, industrial development, and national unity in interviews with journalists. He also praised the Nepali people’s adherence to traditional Eastern morals, describing them as courteous, kind, and simple in their customs. Zhang further emphasised Nepal’s military resilience, noting that it maintained a standing army of 100,000 with a reserve force of 200,000 and possessed ample arms and ammunition for self-defence. In times of foreign aggression, Zhang observed, Nepali citizens would spontaneously mobilise to defend their nation, without requiring government directives. He also noted that the government prioritised public opinion, which contributed to a strong and united nation capable of deterring external threats. One of Zhang’s most striking observations was the Nepali people’s reluctance to use foreign goods, relying instead on domestically produced items. Despite Nepal’s small size and population, it was free from customs duties and consular jurisdiction, allowing it to function as a truly independent nation. In contrast, Zhang lamented China’s backwardness, expressing pity that, despite its vast territory and large population, China lacked the same level of sovereignty and national cohesion (Shen Bao 1932).

Zhang’s admiration for Nepal’s modernisation resurfaced ten years later when he was invited to deliver a lecture to college students on the diplomatic history of modern China. In this speech, he revisited Nepal as a model for national transformation, emphasising its cultural and intellectual cohesion, its systematically maintained military capacity, and the absence of structural economic predation by foreign capital. He also highlighted Nepal’s liberation from the legacy of unequal treaties that had codified imperialist prerogatives, the eradication of extraterritorial jurisdictions that had previously undermined territorial sovereignty, and its emancipation from asymmetric tariff regimes that perpetuated economic dependency. Concluding his speech, Zhang called for China to follow Nepal’s example and become a modern and sovereign nation, free from foreign intervention and capable of asserting its full independence on the global stage (Zhang Reference Zhang1942).

Callahan (Reference Callahan2006, p. 215) astutely observes that humiliation represents “a transnational model that… is intertwined not just with modern China but with modernity.” Similarly, while Zhang experienced a sense of humiliation, it was not Nepal that humiliated him, but rather the overarching dominance of modernisation as an ideological force. Counterintuitively, Zhang was deeply impressed by Nepal’s modern achievements and found in them a source of hope for China’s own future. Thus, although he was addressing China’s present struggles and weaknesses, his reflections were ultimately forward-looking and aspirational. For Zhang, Nepal was not merely a passive object of observation but an active participant in shaping the perspectives of those who gazed upon it. The imagined Nepal was not just a representation; it also played a transformative role in reshaping the subjectivities of its observers, offering a reference point for navigating the complexities of modernity. In this reciprocal process, the authenticity of subjectivities, if it ever truly existed, became distorted and redefined. However, what emerged from this dynamic was not just a loss of fixed identities but an ongoing process of reinvention. The hope, possibility, and momentum generated by this act of looking outwards continued to drive Asian intellectuals to engage with one another, seeking new ways to position themselves in an ever-shifting modern world.