Shangri-La Revisited: A Land Unconnected to the Tibetan People
Kindly remove your glasses! Others must represent them, for they are unable to represent themselves. Sie müssen vertreten werden, denn sie können sich nicht selbst vertreten. The photograph “Two Pilgrims: Priest and Priestess”, taken by Johanna Elisabeth Meyer in 1932, is in the collection of Preus Museum.
As mentioned in the previous issue, Hilton crafted a utopian dream brimming with poetic and imaginative qualities, borne on pastoral melodies and rendered through splendid, romantic language. Also referenced are Karl Marx’s “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte,” Edward Said as the originator of Orientalism theory, and the concept of “White utopia.”
A remote valley cut off from human settlement, Shangri-La proved to be a delightful and abundant paradise. Its temperatures vary by elevation, shifting from warm to hot to cool. The fields are farmed productively, yielding an assortment of crops and ample harvests. At midday, the valley basks in warm sunshine; meltwater from snowy summits forms clear brooks that run across the valley. A gentle warm wind touches all, and even shaded corners remain free of any chill.
In 1973, Lost Horizon remained as it had been. The native inhabitants, all of mixed Han and Tibetan ancestry, are clean, attractive, and carry numerous fine traits rarely seen among other peoples. For generations they have dwelt in calm, quiet valleys, where laughter rings out across the fields, along the roads, at the entrances of villages, and within the tea pavilions. They extend warm salutations to any traveler they meet, behaving with gentleness and politeness, an open and carefree demeanor. Though fully engaged in their tasks, they show no hint of haste or weariness.
Is it truly so? The world's most delightful place is one where Eastern spirituality and Western material civilization are gracefully united—the only spot never sullied by pollution, preserving the innocence and affection of paradise, just as "God has set a paradise in the East for people to dwell in peace". It stands as an everlasting dream, a cherished recollection, and a pledge of eternity for those in the West. These descriptions appear alongside the 1973 Lost Horizon still, repeated again in another 1973 Lost Horizon still, and on the album cover and back cover of Lost Horizon from that same year. Could that really be true?
For nearly two centuries, this scenic earthly paradise has been governed by the venerable Rinpoche. He is a Western white man and a Christian missionary, rather than Tibetan or Han Chinese. This aged leader has devoted himself to spreading Christian doctrine while also carrying out extensive restoration and rebuilding of ancient structures, thereby fostering a peaceful coexistence among Christian, Buddhist, Taoist, Confucian, and other humanistic belief systems.
In a 1973 still from Lost Horizon, a group of self-styled full-time monks—all white Westerners—enjoy every form of material and spiritual wealth under Rinpoche's guidance. As their spiritual leader, he raises young successors, who also come from the West and must display distinct qualities: courage, patience, wisdom, and calmness. These Western spiritual aristocrats find enjoyment in yoga and spiritual practice, while also surrendering to the pleasures of hallucinogenic drugs, thereby creating an isolated, parasitic upper class.
Although the text claims that representatives of diverse ethnic groups congregate here, we can clearly distinguish just a single German explorer and one French musician. In the 1973 Lost Horizon, there is the character "Mr. Chang." Within this seemingly flawless utopia, it is beyond question that a small group of aristocratic Europeans hold absolute authority. The tactful, experienced Han Chinese official, Mr. Zhang, handles all secular administration for Rinpoche with orderly proficiency.
Despite being over sixty, Miss Luo, a beautiful and charming Manchu girl, still appears youthful thanks to her mastery in her practice, winning the hearts of the few intruders. Lost Horizon still, 1973. It appears that 'Shangri-La' carries a strongly colonialist and idealistic political character. Moreover, the indigenous residents, with the Tibetan people at their head, are born to perform low-level service tasks; they are naive and self-indulgent in their scenic homeland, completely ignorant of the wider world.
Furthermore, among the lower-class groups, there are no Westerners at all: one sees only Tibetans speaking Tibetan, local servants skilled in Chinese-style ear cleaning and nose picking, and Tibetan attendants who serve tea and keep watch at the door. Even longevity is inherently bound to the ethnicity itself.
According to Rinpoche's statement, Tibetans generally show less fragility compared to other ethnic groups, owing to their adaptation to high-altitude conditions; additionally, their kind-hearted nature has led us to accept a considerable number of them, yet I suspect few have reached the age of 100 or beyond. Han people fare somewhat better, but in our view, the most suitable individuals are certain Europeans of Latin and Germanic descent, or Americans.
Within the canyon's depths, Taoist temples and Confucian shrines stand alongside the Blue Moon Valley Temple, where "Om Mani Padme Hum" and "Praise the Lord" are chanted—as depicted in the Lost Horizon Illustration, 2016.
Orientalism “The East” is almost a European invention. Upon closer inspection, in this earthly paradise where East and West meet, the Christian tradition always holds sway as the dominant spirit, and the core of civilization derives from Western literature, art, and music—while Eastern philosophy and craftsmanship are pushed into the background, serving only as accessories. Furthermore, in the deepest layers, there exists virtually no meaningful link to Tibetan areas, Tibetan people, or Tibetan culture.
Edward Wadie Said (1935-2003) noted that stories form the core of colonial explorers' and novelists' tales about distant lands, and they also serve as a way for colonized people to affirm their identity and historical existence. Since ancient times, this place has been filled with romantic legends and exotic charm, lingering in people's memories and imaginations, offering unique experiences. Within the making of the Shangri-La myth, the desire of Western imperialism to control the East's resources emerges as the underlying force of the narrative.
In The Collected Works of Said (Edward Wadie Said, 1935-2003), as the narrative unfolds, the four characters' true selves are revealed: some desire to stay behind, while others are eager to depart. Barnard's accidental discovery of a gold mine filled him with such excitement that he burst out, "Gold, young man, gold! There are thousands of gold in the canyon... I have obtained full permission from the authorities to mine as much as I want... They need me as an expert, I will tell them how to increase the mining output." Just as Mr.
Throughout history, colonialists who viewed the East through an Orientalist lens reasoned in exactly this way: they assumed that the East was overflowing with gold and treasures simply waiting to be found, and that the Eastern people’s limited knowledge and skills rendered them unable to access these riches—an utter waste. As Zhang wrote in his text: "Blinkroshojie is determined to change our beliefs, while Mr. Barnard is thinking of turning us into a limited company.
Because of their faith in Christian universalism, Westerners see themselves as both capable and entitled to exploit and extract, thereby enriching themselves and giving the East a chance to enter modern civilization. Under the empire's aura, they appear as emissaries of advanced culture; even the penniless, the dying, and the thoroughly villainous can derive ecstatic joy from disregarding Eastern civilization's superiority.
Imagination and construction are perpetual themes of Orientalism. In 1937, during the Nazi expedition to Tibet, Nazi anthropologist Beger collected facial data from Tibetan men, and this was photographed by Ernst Krause in 1938. As Sayyid put it: "In the novels, history, travelogues, and explorations of colonists, they are also portrayed as vibrant. This vitality comes not only from colonial activities, but also from the geography and people of exotic places." Therefore, Shangri-La has transformed into a paradise for Western adventurers and a heaven for speculative businessmen.
In his fantastical novel "Invisible Cities," the Italian author Italo Calvino (1924-1985) observed that the world takes shape through human perception, with every place carrying a distinct meaning in the mind—whether as a homeland or an alien land, a source of comfort or danger, of longing or dread. Such meaningful places, he noted, form the backdrop of our lives and lend significance to our existence. It is these places, "embedded" within the world, that imagination brings to voice.
According to Italo Calvino (1924–1985) in his 1972 work *Invisible Cities*, such "places" may range from a continent—whether in the East or West—down to something as small as a corner within a home or a drawer on a desk. In the Western mind, Tibet is envisioned as a sacred, abundant realm. This perception is marked by an intricate, hard-to-define "chivalric" attitude toward the snowy, pristine land—combining a devoted, almost angelic reverence for its sanctity with a covetous, demon-like urge to seize this paradise. As a result, the term "Shangri-La" has long become synonymous with Tibet in the Western imagination.
Alamy-sourced images from 1904 depict Tibetan officials in negotiations with British representatives, along with the travels of the thirteenth Most Venerable. This spiritually idealized virtual space, although difficult to trace on a map, holds the enchanting qualities that Western civilization has lost. In the mainstream imagination of Western culture, it is not merely a pre-modern paradise; it is also a modern sacred land, and even the land of human redemption.
Shangri-La's Tibetan culture is imbued with compassion and wisdom, aspiring to deliver all sentient beings. Its people champion environmental stewardship, advocate for peace, and uphold equal standing across genders and social classes. The air there is mild and soothing, while the sky is vivid and pristine. Yet this entire portrait feels too flawless to belong to any genuine place on Earth—it reads more like a mirror reflecting Westerners' idealized vision of themselves.
Rather than a genuine "heaven on earth," Shangri-La functions more as a "Caucasian utopia" shaped by Orientalism. For Westerners, it serves as a psychological reference point for self-definition, offering a spiritual sanctuary from the discontents of modernization and a repository of imperial-era dreams and nostalgia. Within this imagined space, they are free to roam contentedly, as if riding a spiritual steed at ease.
Today, "Shangri-La" is a fashionable term for many young Chinese men and women, and a remarkable passion for it is rising within us. Yet we are not foreigners from some distant world; Shangri-La should not be cast as the "other" in our perception, and Tibet must not once again become a paradise for adventurers and speculators.
Do you still have those glasses on? Those compatriots with a genuine love for Tibet and Tibetan culture should always glance at their own faces to confirm whether the spectacles of "Orientalism" remain. This piece is a translation from Aguo's blog. Lost Horizon Illustration, 2021.