China’s repeated attempts to reinforce its territorial claim over Arunachal Pradesh have once again brought the long-running India-China border dispute into focus. Beijing refers to Arunachal Pradesh as “Zangnan” or “South Tibet” and has repeatedly objected to India’s administration and development activities in the state. India, however, firmly maintains that Arunachal Pradesh is an integral and inalienable part of the country.
The latest phase of the dispute is increasingly being fought not only along the Himalayan frontier but also through maps, place names and competing historical narratives. China has repeatedly announced “standardised” Chinese names for locations in Arunachal Pradesh. In response, India recently formally identified 27 places and geographical features in Arunachal Pradesh on official Survey of India maps, reinforcing their Indian administrative and cartographic identity.
But Beijing’s description of Arunachal Pradesh as “South Tibet” raises a larger historical question: if China wants to settle modern territorial questions by invoking Tibet’s historical connections, should the discussion not also include Tibet itself?
That is the central contradiction at the heart of the debate.
China’s position is that large parts of Arunachal Pradesh historically belonged to Tibet and therefore should be considered part of China. India rejects that interpretation and argues that China cannot selectively invoke historical associations while dismissing the complex political history of Tibet and the agreements that shaped the modern Himalayan boundary.
The dispute is particularly sensitive around Tawang, a strategically important area with deep Tibetan Buddhist connections. Tawang is home to an important Tibetan Buddhist monastery and has enormous religious and cultural significance. The region has also become one of the most prominent points of contention between India and China.
The disagreement is rooted partly in competing interpretations of the 1914 McMahon Line, which broadly forms the basis of the boundary between India and China in the eastern sector. Beijing rejects the Simla Convention and argues that Tibet did not possess the sovereignty necessary to enter into such an agreement. India, meanwhile, continues to recognise the McMahon Line as the basis of its eastern boundary.
This is why the argument cannot simply be reduced to the renaming of towns, villages or mountains.
Names do not determine sovereignty. Maps do not automatically change borders. And repeating a territorial claim does not make it an established fact.
The growing “map war” between New Delhi and Beijing demonstrates how geography has become an important instrument of diplomacy. China’s repeated renaming exercises seek to reinforce its narrative, while India’s formal mapping and naming of Arunachal Pradesh locations serves as a direct institutional response.
Ultimately, the question is larger than Arunachal Pradesh. If Beijing wants history to be the foundation for determining territorial legitimacy, then history must be examined in its entirety—not selectively.
For India, the message is straightforward: Arunachal Pradesh is Indian territory, and no unilateral change of names can alter that position.
For Beijing, perhaps the more important question is this: if Arunachal is “South Tibet”, are we finally ready to have an honest conversation about Tibet itself?
