An earthquake that struck south-east Asia in late March is thought to have killed more than 3,000 people in Myanmar, a country ruled by a military junta that has blocked humanitarian aid and continued waging war on quake-ravaged rebel territory.
I am interested in how authoritarian regimes handle disasters and whether they disrupt or reinforce the ruling elite’s agenda. My research has led me to Tibet, which has endured Chinese occupation since 1951 and suffered a 7.1-magnitude earthquake in early January 2025.
Beijing controls the access of independent media and international observers in Tibet. What we know about the disaster’s impact is largely based on initial reporting by the Chinese media, which has claimed the loss of 126 lives and damage to roads and communication networks.
Tibetan sources have, however, contended that there has been much greater destruction, including to a number of monasteries and nunneries across the region.
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox. Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
Following the earthquake, the Chinese president, Xi Jinping, ordered “all-out search and rescue efforts” and pledged a rapid recovery. The constrained political environment has meant that Chinese relief agencies and the Chinese state-run media have controlled the narrative, praising Beijing’s capacity for “speed and compassion” in mobilising rescue efforts while using the disaster to highlight China’s record of “good governance and putting people and their lives first”.
These accounts not only fail to report on the civic responses to disaster, such as mutual aid networks organised by Tibetans both locally and internationally, but they tend to overlook the immediate concerns of the affected communities.
Survivors and activists using social media to challenge Chinese media narratives of purported success in rescue and relief efforts have faced censorship and outright hostility from the Chinese authorities. A previous study, looking at the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, found that communities that were considered a challenge to Chinese authority had their demands for relief suppressed.

The earthquake has sparked further concerns among Tibetans that Chinese authorities will use the disaster to tighten their grip on the region.
The situation is reminiscent of the April 2010 earthquake that struck Tibet’s Yushu region, claiming more than 2,600 lives and causing significant disruption to local life. The earthquake enabled China to push its vision of modernity and development in Tibet amid allegations of corruption in relief distribution and forced relocations.
The aftermath revealed a divergence between the Chinese interpretation of recovery and what many Tibetans saw as essential for preserving and promoting their unique cultural identity.
In their study of the Zimbabwean state’s response to tropical cyclone Idai in 2019, anthropologist Denboy Kudejira described this phenomenon as “disaster authoritarianism”: when an authoritarian regime exploits a disaster to reassert its power. Akin to China’s model, the Zimbabwean government restricted the involvement of non-state groups in longer-term recovery efforts.
The relative lack of attention journalists and politicians abroad pay to Tibet makes this problem more acute. For instance, the wildfires in Los Angeles erupted at the same time as the earthquake, but garnered greater and more sustained media attention that mounted scrutiny on responsible agencies. By contrast, the Tibet earthquake quickly faded from the news.
‘Confrontational politics emerging’
For Tibetans, challenging disaster authoritarianism is part of a delicate political struggle. Tibet’s spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, called the disaster “a natural phenomenon and not the result of human activities”, while urging Tibetans not to be “angry with the Chinese”. This appears to reflect his long-held wisdom that antagonising Chinese authorities will invite further hardship for communities enduring political marginalisation.
Others are more sceptical. Some people inside Tibet have questioned the official number of casualties reported by Beijing and pushed Chinese authorities to clarify the scale of the tragedy.
There are signs of more confrontational politics emerging. The International Campaign for Tibet, which lobbies for self-determination for Tibetans, has labelled the disaster “the silent earthquake” and accused Chinese authorities of censoring the true nature of suffering.
Another rights group, the Tibetan Rights Collective, has highlighted China’s interventions in Tibet that have made the region more geologically unstable, including the building of hydropower dams and roads. Recent research shows that China’s push to build infrastructure in the region has increased the risk of disasters, such as floods and landslides, for downstream communities in south Asia.
Research a colleague and I conducted during the pandemic showed that community groups can compensate for gaps in state-led disaster responses, and alert where help is needed. But this depends on public participation and grassroots organising that, in authoritarian contexts such as Tibet and Myanmar, is heavily restricted.
The climate crisis is increasing the risk of disasters at the same time as there is widespread fear of increasing authoritarianism globally. We should all worry about how these two trends might interact.

Nimesh Dhungana does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.