Larung Gar being destroyed in 2016. (Photo: Charles Tay)
High in the rolling hills of Serta County in eastern Tibet once thrived a sea of crimson, tens of thousands of red-robed monks and nuns devoted to study, meditation, and the pursuit of enlightenment. The Larung Gar Buddhist Institute, founded in 1980 by the revered Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok, was not merely a monastery; it was a spiritual city, a beacon of Tibetan Buddhism, and a sanctuary for seekers from across Tibet, China, and beyond. For decades, Larung Gar embodied peace, discipline, and the living heart of Tibetan spirituality.
But in 2016, that heaven was shattered.
The Order from Beijing
In June 2016, the Chinese authorities in Serta County issued an unthinkable decree: the population of Larung Gar must be reduced to 5000 residents. The order, emanating from the highest echelons of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), demanded the demolition of thousands of homes, nuns hostels, and even old people’s homes. Control over the institute’s management, finances, and internal affairs was forcibly handed to the Party.
The justification? Overcrowding and fire safety.
The reality? An assault on the spiritual soul of Tibet.
The monks and nuns who had dedicated their lives to the Dharma were never consulted. They were told to pack their lives into small bundles and leave the only home they had ever known. Those who refused faced intimidation, destruction, and humiliation.
Destroying Heaven
In July 2016, the sound of bulldozers echoed through the valley. Homes that had once glowed with butter lamps and echoed with chants of compassion were torn apart. By the end of the year, 4725 homes were reduced to rubble and 4828 monks and nuns were evicted.
Residents wept as they watched their sacred refuge turned to dust. One called it destroying heaven.
Three nuns, unable to bear the pain, ended their lives. Among them was Rinzin Dolma, who left behind a note that read:
I cannot bear the pain of the endless Chinese harassment of innocent Buddhists who quietly studied at the institute.
Those forced out were taken away in buses, tears streaming down their faces as their friends chanted prayers for strength. Many were sent to far-off regions of Tibet, separated forever from their community. Others were subjected to patriotic re-education sessions, forced to sing songs praising the Chinese Communist Party and denounce their own faith and culture.
The demolitions did not just destroy buildings; they tore apart the fabric of an ancient tradition.
Silence and Defiance
Despite global outcry, the destruction continued. The US Congressional-Executive Commission on China, members of the European Parliament, and human rights organizations called for an end to the demolitions. Yet, the bulldozers rolled on. The world watched, but too few spoke.
In 2017, satellite imagery confirmed what survivors had already described: vast tracts of Larung Gar had been flattened. What was once a thriving spiritual hub was now a scarred landscape, one the Chinese government soon began to rebrand for tourism. The sacred was being commodified.
Faith Under Surveillance
Today, the remnants of Larung Gar stand under the watchful eyes of the state. Monasteries across Tibet have been ordered to fly Chinese flags. Party officials now control religious management committees. CCTV cameras monitor prayers. Travel for teachings is restricted. Even festivals like Dechen Shingdrup, once celebrated with devotion and color, have been banned since 2016.
The message is clear: faith must serve the Party, or it will be destroyed.
Yet, the Tibetan spirit endures. In 2019, despite restrictions, monks and nuns quietly gathered to commemorate the 15th anniversary of Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok’s passing. They risked arrest to honor the teacher who gave them Larung Gar, a symbol of freedom, learning, and compassion.
Larung Gar Lives in Our Hearts
The tragedy of Larung Gar is not just the destruction of homes; it is the attempted erasure of a people’s soul. But no bulldozer can crush faith. No wall can contain the vastness of compassion.
Across Tibet and the world, the red robes remain a symbol of resistance. Every chant, every whispered prayer, every act of remembrance keeps Larung Gar alive, in spirit if not in structure.
To the world, Larung Gar was a monastery.
To Tibetans, it was heaven.
And though heaven was destroyed, its light still burns, quietly and defiantly, within every Tibetan heart that refuses to forget.