Chinese authorities have reportedly begun another major demolition campaign at Larung Gar, one of the most influential Tibetan Buddhist educational communities in the world, amid a wider pattern of closures, expulsions, monument destruction and infrastructure projects affecting religious and cultural sites across Tibetan regions. According to the International Campaign for Tibet, demolitions began around July 13, 2026, in Serthar County, in present-day Sichuan Province. A confidential source cited by the organization said authorities had designated at least 1,060 residences belonging to monks and nuns for destruction, with six reportedly demolished by July 15. The source also said the work was being carried out at night, although the reason for the timing could not be independently established. The structures identified in the report are monastic residences rather than Larung Gar’s principal temples or teaching halls, but their destruction can still drastically weaken the institution by reducing its population and removing the homes that allow monks and nuns to study, meditate and receive teachings there. Founded in 1980 by the Nyingma master Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok, Larung Gar grew into an internationally important centre of Buddhist scholarship, attracting Tibetan, Chinese and foreign students before repeated state interventions sharply reduced its size. Thousands of dwellings were demolished during earlier campaigns, particularly in 2001 and from 2016 to 2017, when approximately 5,000 residents were reportedly expelled.
The reported operation at Larung Gar follows other recent cases of destruction in eastern Tibet. In July 2025, the Central Tibetan Administration reported that Chinese authorities had destroyed more than 300 Buddhist stupas near Janggang Monastery at Lungrab Zang-ri in Drakgo County during late May or June of that year. Three larger stupas were also reportedly razed, together with statues of Guru Padmasambhava and Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok. Local officials were said to have argued that the structures had been built on government land and violated regulations, while access to the area was subsequently restricted, making independent examination difficult. Although the report came from Tibetan sources and an exile administration openly critical of Chinese rule, it was consistent with earlier incidents in Drakgo. In 2021, authorities demolished a large Buddha statue, removed dozens of prayer wheels and closed a monastic school in the county. In Tibetan Buddhism, stupas are not simply ornamental monuments. They may contain scriptures, relics and consecrated objects, and they serve as focal points for circumambulation, prayer and the accumulation of merit. Their destruction therefore removes not only physical heritage but also a living centre of devotional practice.
Elsewhere in eastern Tibet, authorities have reportedly used closure and physical obstruction rather than complete demolition. In Golok, in present-day Qinghai Province, Tibetan advocacy sources said officials closed Zangdok Pari temple in May 2026, expelled its resident monks and sealed access to its large prayer wheels with cement. The available reporting did not indicate that the entire temple building had been razed. Even so, removing the monastic community, blocking devotional objects and preventing local worshippers from entering would effectively dismantle much of the institution’s religious function. This distinction is important because recent pressure on Tibetan Buddhism has taken several forms, including outright destruction, partial demolition, forced depopulation, political re-education, restrictions on access and the conversion of religious spaces into tightly managed cultural or tourist sites. A temple can remain physically standing while being stripped of the people, practices and communal relationships that gave it meaning.
Some of the most serious threats to Tibetan religious heritage now arise through state infrastructure projects. In February 2024, hundreds of monks and villagers protested plans for the Kamtok hydroelectric dam on the Dri Chu, or upper Yangtze River, in Derge County. Human Rights Watch reported that the proposed reservoir would submerge villages and historic monasteries, including Wontoe and Yena monasteries, which are believed to be more than 700 years old and contain historically important murals. Police reportedly detained and beat protesters after officials arrived at the monasteries in preparation for their removal or demolition. The dam case differs from the reported destruction at Drakgo and the downsizing of Larung Gar because Beijing can present hydropower development as an economic and energy policy rather than a campaign against religion. For local Tibetans, however, the outcome may still be the permanent loss of monasteries, sacred landscapes, ancestral villages and ritual connections to place. These sites are embedded within a wider religious geography in which mountains, rivers, pilgrimage routes and monastic communities form an interconnected cultural world.
There is no single publicly documented order linking every recent demolition, closure or displacement. The apparent intensification is better understood as the result of several overlapping policies. Chinese authorities increasingly treat monasteries not as independent religious communities but as institutions requiring direct political supervision. Revised administrative measures have strengthened the role of state-approved management committees, ideological education and scrutiny of monastic personnel. Religious leaders are expected to demonstrate political loyalty, endorse the state’s interpretation of Tibetan history and reject allegiance to figures whom Beijing considers politically unacceptable, above all the Dalai Lama. Under Xi Jinping, these measures have been incorporated into the broader policy of the “Sinicization” of religion. Officially, Sinicization means adapting religious traditions to Chinese society and ensuring compliance with national law. Critics argue that in practice it requires religious institutions to adopt Communist Party narratives, patriotic education and state-defined expressions of Chinese identity. For Tibetan Buddhism, this can affect language, architecture, curricula, monastic admissions, religious imagery and the authority of teachers.
Larung Gar is particularly sensitive in this context because it is not merely a monastery but a major network of scholarship, devotion and religious authority whose influence historically extended across administrative boundaries. It attracted large numbers of Tibetan practitioners and also became popular among Han Chinese students, giving it a reach that may have appeared difficult for the state to regulate. The latest demolitions were reported shortly after China’s new Ethnic Unity and Progress Law took effect on July 1, 2026. Tibetan advocacy organizations argue that the law strengthens coercive assimilation by placing a unified national identity above distinct Tibetan linguistic, religious and cultural institutions. A direct causal link between the law and the July demolitions has not been publicly demonstrated, but the timing has intensified concern that local authorities now have stronger political and legal incentives to reduce institutions seen as preserving identities outside the Party’s preferred framework.
Infrastructure expansion, resource extraction and urban redevelopment are adding further pressure. Hydropower, mining and road construction can threaten monasteries and sacred sites even when religion is not officially described as the target. The Kamtok dam illustrates how state development priorities may override local cultural concerns, with electricity and economic benefits often directed beyond the affected communities while local residents bear the costs of displacement and heritage loss. In these circumstances, religious destruction may occur through planning decisions, land-use designations or environmental regulations rather than through an openly declared campaign against Buddhism. Officials may cite unauthorized construction, safety requirements, ecological protection or development needs. Without transparent planning processes, unrestricted access and independent judicial review, it is difficult to determine whether such explanations are consistently applied or selectively used against Tibetan institutions.
The approaching succession of the Dalai Lama also forms part of the broader political environment. Beijing insists that the recognition of reincarnate lamas, including a future Dalai Lama, must comply with Chinese law and receive government approval, while the Dalai Lama and Tibetan Buddhist authorities outside China reject the Communist Party’s right to determine a reincarnation. Monasteries could become crucial centres of religious legitimacy during a disputed succession. Reducing their independence, controlling their leadership and limiting contact with Tibetan communities abroad may therefore be part of a longer-term effort to shape the religious landscape after the present Dalai Lama. This remains a strategic interpretation rather than proof that every demolition or closure has been ordered specifically because of the succession question, but it helps explain why authorities may be especially concerned about large, influential and autonomous monastic institutions.
Verification remains extremely difficult. Foreign journalists and researchers face major restrictions on travel in Tibetan areas, local sources risk imprisonment for communicating with people abroad and many incidents cannot be checked through unrestricted field reporting. The latest Larung Gar figures come from a confidential source cited by an advocacy organization, while the Drakgo account relies substantially on Tibetan sources and the Central Tibetan Administration. Chinese government explanations, when available, often refer to unauthorized construction, public safety, land-use regulations, environmental protection or development. Such explanations cannot automatically be dismissed, but neither can they be independently tested when access to the sites, local residents and official documents is tightly controlled.
The most defensible conclusion is not that every monastery in Tibet is currently being demolished, but that several forms of pressure are converging. Monastic residences are being destroyed, monks and nuns are being expelled, statues and stupas are being removed, temples are being closed, prayer wheels are being sealed and historic monasteries are being placed in the path of major infrastructure projects. Taken together, these actions threaten far more than individual buildings. Tibetan monasteries preserve philosophy, ritual, medicine, visual art, manuscripts, oral traditions, local histories and the Tibetan language. When a monastic community is dispersed or a sacred landscape is submerged, the loss extends beyond architecture to the entire social system through which Tibetan Buddhist culture is transmitted. The recent incidents at Larung Gar, Drakgo, Golok and Derge therefore raise a larger question about whether China’s religious and development policies are allowing Tibetan culture to survive as an autonomous living tradition, or preserving only those elements that can be reshaped, displayed and administered under state control.
