In the heart of the Hengduan Mountains of southwest China, Qiangic-speaking peoples maintain their bond with culture, place, and the spirit world.
Dan Meir

A labtse (cairn) in Kham denoting both the abode (citadel) of a spirit (a gzhi bdag) and a sacred natural site. Photo: Dan Meir
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I first became interested in Indigenous mountain peoples when I worked in the Inner Himalaya region of Nepal as a community forester from 1984 to 1991. Back then, though, I lacked the anthropological toolset to fully understand their worldview or vernacular knowledge systems.
After further studies, I was able to hone my skills in Sichuan and Yunnan provinces in southwest China. It was in 2001, during my doctoral research on Tibetan ethno-forestry paradigms in the Yalong and Litang River valleys of the Eastern Kham region in Sichuan, that I stumbled on the Qiangic-speaking peoples. Postdoctoral research and a consultancy in northwestern Yunnan, along with a “fall colors” trip to an alpine resort in the Aba Prefecture of Sichuan, later allowed me to gain a greater understanding of these peoples. Yet, until now I had not had an occasion to explore and portray the close bond the Qiangic peoples have with their culture, place, and the spirit world.
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In the heart of the rugged Hengduan Mountain Range of Sichuan and Yunnan, where snow-capped peaks touch the sky and decorated cairns (labtse) punctuate the landscape, lies the Qiangic peoples’ homeland. Nestled within the breathtaking scenery of western China, this land is not just a geographical entity but an enspirited one, intertwined with the Qiangic peoples’ history, culture, and spirituality.
This land is not just a geographical entity but an enspirited one.
The Qiangic homeland is characterized by its diverse terrain, ranging from lofty mountain ranges to deep river valleys and lush forests. It is a land of contrasts, where the harshness of the environment is softened by the resilience and adaptability of its inhabitants. For centuries, the Qiangic peoples have carved out a way of life in harmony with their surroundings, drawing sustenance from the land and paying homage to the spirits that inhabit it.
The history of the Qiangic-speaking peoples is as old as the mountains themselves, shrouded in myth and legend. They trace their ancestry back to ancient times when their forebears roamed the high plateaus and valleys, herding yaks and practicing a unique blend of animism and shamanic rituals. They are an admixture of East Asian settlers and Di-Qiang people. Their genetic makeup does not geographically overlap with that of the Tibetans, but their culture bears the influence of Tibetan customs. Like the Tibetans, they participate in deity cults that are pivotal to their territories of life. Over the centuries, they have weathered invasions, migrations, and cultural assimilation, yet their identity remains rooted in the land they call home, in what has been dubbed the “Sichuan ethnic corridor.”
At the heart of Qiangic peoples’ culture are their vernacular dialects, rich and diverse like the tapestry of their homeland. Their dialects, which include Ergong (Horpa), Ersu, Guigiong, Jiarong, Lavrung, Luzu, Manyak, Minyak, Mosuo, Namuyi, Naxi, Pumi, Qiang, Queyu (Choyu), Shixing, and Zhaba, are not Tibetic but belong to their own branch of the Tibeto-Burman language family and are not mutually intelligible with Tibetan or Chinese. They are a contact-induced grouping or Sprachbund rather than a genetic one. While there are some commonalities between dialects, there are significant variations in vocabulary, grammar, phonology, and morphology. These mostly oral dialects serve not only as a means of communication but also as repositories of ancestral wisdom and knowledge. Through their languages, the Qiangic peoples express their worldviews, their connection to the land, and their reverence for the spirits that dwell within it.

The Sichuan ethnic corridor showing the 16 Qiangic dialects in colored fill. Map: Dan Meir
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Central to the Qiangic worldview is the concept of topocosmic equilibrium (snod bcud do mnyam in Tibetan), based on the assumption that the physical and spiritual realms are interconnected and must be kept in balance. This equilibrium is maintained through rituals, ceremonies, and offerings to the spirits, ensuring harmony between humans and the natural world.
The physical and spiritual realms are interconnected and must be kept in balance.
One of the cornerstones of Qiangic spirituality is the gzhi bdag cult, which venerates the earth spirits as owners, lawmakers, and guardians of enspirited sacred natural sites or territories of life. The gzhi bdag, who live in pho brang or citadels in sacred natural sites, are intermediaries between the human and spirit worlds and play a vital role in maintaining the sanctity of these sites and ensuring their proper stewardship. Furthermore, they serve as arbiters of justice, settling disputes and maintaining order within their communities.
I serendipitously encountered the gzhi bdag cult and sacred natural sites in 1999, while talking to a Tibetan farmer in Ganzi Prefecture of Sichuan. I asked the farmer if there was a relationship between the spiritual dimension and earth care or nurture. He responded, “If we take care of the local forest and animals, Jo Bo will be happy and bless our community. If not, he will be angry and our crops will fail, our livestock will die, and we will suffer.”
The farmer went on to describe the role of Jo Bo, the natural resources and villages he presided over as custodian, and the geospatial extent of the pho brang he inhabited. I was surprised that the farmer spoke of a divinity being happy and blessing the community, but realized right away that he was describing an animistic phenomenon, and that Jo Bo was the name of a spirit or gzhi bdag and his pho brang was a sacred natural site.
Spiritual governance by spirits is a fundamental aspect of Qiangic society.
Spiritual governance by spirits is a fundamental aspect of Qiangic society, where decisions are not made by humans based on their own interests but by the spirits of the land. Trance mediums and divination masters (who typically practice scapulimancy, or divination by means of animal shoulder blade bones) act as mediators between the two worlds, interpreting signs and omens and seeking guidance from the spirits in times of need.

A daba (trance medium) from the Mosuo Qiangic people, who allowed me to photograph him on the condition that he imitated a trance-like state. Photo: Dan Meir
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Qiangic peoples see themselves not as masters of the land, but as humble stewards entrusted with its care. Theirs is a way of life deeply rooted in tradition yet resilient in the face of change, where the resonance of history reminds them of who they are and where they belong.
Qiangic peoples see themselves not as masters of the land, but as humble stewards entrusted with its care.
I was intrigued to discover that the Qiangic people I interviewed are more closely attached to place, nature, culture, the gzhi bdag cult, and spirituality than the Tibetans whose way of life I was studying. I believe this is due to geography, culture, and community-centrism. In contrast to Khamba Tibetans who identify with a national homeland (namely Chushi Gangdruk, translated as “Four Rivers, Six Ranges”), Qiangic speakers inhabit a localized and well-defined territory. They are “hidden” behind the Daxue Mountains; the Yalong-Litang River is not navigable in Sichuan; major roads do not pass through their territories; most of the population is nonliterate and monolingual in an oral dialect; they do not travel much for trading purposes; they have been less subjected to assimilation than the Tibetans; and they are not recognized by the state as a unique ethnolinguistic group or even a minzu (ethnic minority).

Map of Eastern Kham showing attachment values statistically computed on the basis of interviews with Qiangic and Tibetan farmers and nomads. Rivers are marked in pink. Light blue corresponds to a close attachment to place, nature, culture, the gzhi bdag cult, and spirituality. These findings suggest that Qiangic peoples have a closer attachment to these values than the Tibetans. Map: Dan Meir
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The gzhi bdag cult has faced numerous threats throughout history, each one testing the resilience of its followers and the strength of its traditions. First came the efforts of Yungdrung Bön to subdue this cult. Yungdrung Bön is a spiritual path founded eight thousand years ago by Tonpa Shenrab, who sought to establish legitimacy for his teachings by transcending the realm of what he saw as mere myth and superstition. The shadow of the gzhi bdag cult loomed large over the spiritual landscape. Deeply rooted in the earth and its elemental forces, and worlds apart from the beliefs of Yungdrung Bön, this animistic tradition held sway over the hearts and minds of many. Tonpa Shenrab’s attempts met with little success.
Later on, when Buddhism similarly sought to tame the gzhi bdag and co-opt them as dharma protectors (chos skyong in Tibetan), the Qiangic peoples stood firm, maintaining their reverence for the spirits of the land. In modern times, the ghazi bdag cult was subjected to persecution during the Cultural Revolution. I was heartbroken to discover the impact of that persecution. Some Minyak people told me that “the Red Guards marched down the [Li-Chu River] valley destroying the cairns as they went and removing — in fact, scraping out — any trace of them.”
Even as modernity encroached upon their way of life, however, seeking to rob their culture of its meaning, the Qiangic peoples persevered. Slowly, the gzhi bdag cult began to recover. With the loosening of restrictions on religious practices in the 1980s, there was a revival among mainstream religions. The Qiangic peoples started reclaiming their cultural identity. Although there were few trance mediums left to carry on the ancient rituals, attempts were made to mentor more of them.
Science-based conservation undermined their worldview and practices because it ignored the spirit realm.
But just as the cult began to regain its strength, new threats emerged on the horizon. Urbanization and environmental migration displaced many communities, severing their connection to the land and scattering the followers of the gzhi bdag cult far and wide. Science-based conservation undermined their worldview and practices because it ignored the spirit realm, animism, the gzhi bdag cult, and their sacred natural sites. I was shocked by the comments of a Pumi Elder: “We [the Pumi people] used to care for and nurture the forest and wildlife, but since the imposition of nature conservation and forest protection we have lost our sense of responsibility for the forest.”
The concept of heritagization brought renewed attention to minority cultures in China, including the Qiangic peoples. Tragically, though, that concept is fraught with its own pitfalls, as it has often led to cultural commodification and displacement. As a result of the earthquake in Wenchuan in 2008, four Qiang cultural practices were included on the representative list of intangible cultural heritage of China as a way to foster cultural heritage tourism. That, however, did very little to help the Qiang recover. Cultural heritage tourism not only failed to bring about sustainable economic development to the earthquake-stricken areas but also largely ignored the initial goal of post-disaster cultural recovery and the virtues of cultural heritage in recovery processes.

A Qiang girl making embroidery in a government-controlled tourist village. Heritagization did not help the Qiang people recover after the earthquake in 2008. Photo: China Daily
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Despite the challenges, however, the Qiangic-speaking communities have steadfastly clung to their traditions, customs, and social structures, knowing that the true value of their heritage could never be bought or sold. They have nurtured their sacred natural sites and territories of life, safeguarding the natural beauty and resources that sustain them. Their dialects are still extant, their arts adorn the walls of their homes, and their customs continue to shape their daily lives. Efforts to revitalize and protect their cultural identity have been ongoing. Elders pass down oral traditions to the younger generation, ensuring that ancient wisdom is not lost. Artisans meticulously craft intricate artifacts, keeping alive the stories and legends of their ancestors. Festivals and ceremonies celebrate their heritage, reaffirming their collective identity in the face of external pressures.

Naxi musicians performing in Dayan. Naxi musicians play a vital role in keeping their culture alive through their dedication to preserving and performing traditional music. Photo: Peter Morgan/Wikimedia Commons
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Yet, the encroaching forces of modernity continue to loom over this vibrant tapestry of culture and tradition. Chinese-medium education seeks to homogenize Qiangic languages and ways of life, while state policies prioritize economic development over cultural preservation. The allure of urbanization, tourism, and the influence of mainstream religion threaten to erode the very foundations of Qiangic society.
The encroaching forces of modernity continue to loom over this vibrant tapestry of culture and tradition.
As a central pillar of Qiangic peoples’ spirituality and of their territories of life, the gzhi bdag cult remains at the heart of this struggle. With mounting pressures and intensifying challenges, this ancient cult may fade into obscurity, lost to the annals of history. Its rituals and customs, once the bedrock of Qiangic identity, now face the risk of extinction.
On my last visit to the region ten years ago, I found that there were typically three sacred natural sites (inhabited by a gzhi bdag) in each village and that most people were still familiar with the cult and were aware of the behavioral expectation when entering a sacred natural site. Only time will tell whether the resilience of the Qiangic communities will triumph over the trials they face. Will their artifacts remain more than mere tokens, imbued with the spirit of their ancestors? Will their territories of life continue to thrive as enspirited landscapes, cherished and protected for generations to come? And will the sacred traditions of the gzhi bdag cult endure, ensuring that the soul of the Qiangic peoples remains intact in a rapidly changing world?
As the winds of change sweep through the valleys and mountains, the fate of the Qiangic communities hangs in the balance. But amid the uncertainty, one thing remains clear: their spirit, forged over centuries of hardship and resilience, will live on, a testament to the enduring power of culture and tradition in the face of adversity.
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Support the Cause: Contact the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) at mail@iucn.org and request them to include territories of life that are sacred natural sites and their spiritual governance in their governance matrix. This will help not only the Qiangic-speaking peoples but also hundreds of other Indigenous Peoples. IUCN appears to adopt an approach to protected areas that is entirely anthropocentric and ignores the spiritual dimension and other-than-human persons.
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Dan Meir, PhD, is an environmental anthropologist who has spent much of his working life living among or researching the mountain peoples of High Mountain Asia. For the last ten years, he has studied and written about the role of enspirited sacred natural sites among the peoples of Eastern Kham.