In the Land of the Eastern Queendom

Front matter

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STUDIES ON ETHNIC GROUPS IN CHINA

Foreword

There are many Tibets. There is the administrative Tibet Autonomous Region, a province of the People’s Republic of China. There is the geopolitical Tibet of the Government in Exile and its overseas supporters. There is the linguistic, religious, and cultural Tibet spread out over five provinces of China as well as parts of neighboring countries and diaspora communities. And there is the ideational Tibet of a venerable Buddhist civilization threatened by Chinese policies and globalization. But there is also the local Tibet of thousands of villages and townships, each with its own linguistic, sectarian, and cultural identity, and each with a different relationship to the Chinese regime and the global community. Suopo Township in Danba County, Sichuan, is one piece of this local Tibet, and Tenzin Jinba’s In the Land of the Eastern Queendom tells a compelling story of how this piece of the local Tibet is being transformed by China’s current tourism boom.

Danba is an area that is marginal in many respects. Marginal to China because it is sparsely populated and most of its inhabitants are ethnic Tibetans. Marginal to Tibet because it is part of the traditional eastern Tibetan province of Kham, outside the area previously administered by the Dalai Lama’s government in Lhasa, with its own language and martial tradition. Marginal to Kham because most of its inhabitants speak various ix

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Gyarong languages only distantly related to the Kham variety of Tibetan. And marginal to Gyarong because most of Gyarong is in a different prefecture. But despite its quadruple marginality, Danba in recent years has come firmly within the orbit of the ethnic and scenic tourism that has become a favorite pastime of the Chinese urban middle class. The local elites in many parts of Danba, including Suopo, have jumped to take advantage of the tourism boom, both for its possible monetary benefits and in order to promote and display local cultural heritage and encourage local pride in the area’s culture and history.

As part of Danba’s and Suopo’s tourism boom, a dispute has recently arisen over the location of a legendary capital of the “Eastern Queendom” of the title, a matriarchal polity that may have existed a thousand years ago, as mentioned in Chinese historiographical literature. The book describes in lively detail the politics of the dispute, which involves ordinary villagers, community elites, and cadres serving at different levels of the state. Dr. Tenzin’s insider-outsider position as a Gyarong native, as well as his U.S. PhD degree, give him a combination of insider access and outsider distance that enables him to describe these disputes in a way that contributes much to our knowledge of the politics of ethnicity and tourism not only in Tibet but in China more generally.

Why should we care about the Eastern Queendom, since it may or may not have ever existed? There are three good reasons. First, we need a more realistic and complex knowledge of Tibet. In an era when monks are selfimmolating, governments are being repressive, and journalists are feasting on the more sensational aspects of that country’s tragic recent history, more complex and subtle things are going on. Tibet is not uniform, and its relations with China are not fully adversarial, though of course almost all Tibetans long to see the authorities pursue more benevolent and less paranoid policies. This book helps to discredit any simplistic or romantic notions of Tibet. Second, we need to know more about ethnic tourism and local politics in China. As hundreds of millions of Chinese visit exotic places and peoples annually (and at least hundreds of thousands come to Danba), tourism not only affects local communities but also affects the way China is put together and the way people conceive of its being put together. Third and perhaps most importantly, we need more ethnographies of Tibetan communities. There are very few, and only a minority of these are based on intensive, long-term research by scholars like Dr. Tenzin who know the

Foreword / communities from the inside out and also have the academic tools to analyze their local politics and culture in sophisticated ways.

Read In the Land of the Eastern Queendom for its analytical insights and its descriptive richness, to be sure, but also read it for a great story, about modernization, development, tourism, politics, and intrigue amidst both spectacular natural scenery and complicated ethnic relations. We are proud to introduce the Eastern Queendom in this, volume 15 of Studies on Ethnic Groups in China.

STEVAN HARRELL

March 2013 xi

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is about a small number of villagers at the far eastern edge of the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau who are struggling to find a proper niche in the sociopolitical constitution of their native county, among the Gyarongwa and Tibetans, and in China. It is expected to build dialogue with two categories of queries from critical reviewers and potential readers: the scope of investigation and the issue of ethnicity. To be more specific, can this case study speak to a much broader range of issues regarding sociopolitical changes and state-society relations in Tibet and China beyond this seemingly trivial incident in a tiny, out-of-the-way place? Does ethnicity or Tibetanness matter in this case and also in this work?

This book displays the convergence of my general concerns and academic interests: Chinese nationalism and ethnic representations, civil association and social change, Chinese reform and collective action, tourism and modernity, the Tibetan riots of 2008 and their repercussions, border/ frontier and marginality, gender politics, ethnic (Tibetan) policy, grassroots (subaltern) agency, and so on. Simultaneously, it aims to bring to light the intricate and complex terrain in which the queendom dispute is situated. I also want to show that this case is both microscopic and panoramic, meaning that it deals with a local Tibetan society’s transition as much as it xiii

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/ Preface and Acknowledgments addresses the transformation of Tibetan and Chinese societies in general. Likewise, it is as much about a borderland society as it is about the societies in the Chinese and Tibetan heartlands. Moreover, I expect some critiques of its “inadequate” attention to the locals’ ethnicity, namely, the locals seem not to be ethnic or Tibetan enough. As a matter of fact, this is what I am striving for. Many of the works on ethnic groups in China tend to highlight their ethnic performativity—for instance, Tibetans do what Tibetans are supposed to do—but I want to show that ethnicity is just one of the multiple identities of the locals and doesn’t matter to them all the time, even though it does play a role in the queendom dispute and their political agendas.The natives have the same problems as millions of other villagers or peasants throughout China, as they are all subject to Party-state policy and reform and to modernity and globalization with Chinese characteristics. However, Thope I have succeeded in balancing the difference and sameness, particularity and universality, regarding the locals’ responses to social transformation vis-a-vis those of other Tibetan communities, the Han, and other minority villagers.

This book has been inspired by three major streams of influence: my own status as a Gyarong/Tibetan native, Victor Turner’s idea of liminality, and James Scott’s works on subordinate groups’ resistance strategies, especially those occurring in borderlands like Zomia. Tsanlha Ngawang—a reincarnate lama and distinguished scholar on Gyarong—has been hoping that we could work together to dispel doubts about Gyarong’s “authentic” Tibetan status. This was the plan for my PhD program in the United States, but it turns out that I have been fully “brainwashed” by sophisticated anthropological theories of ethnicity and identity; that is, instead of authenticating Gyarong’s Tibetanness, I have been fascinated with the issue of how and why Gyarong’s Tibetan identity becomes problematic. Turner’s insights, added to Arnold van Gennep’s writing on rites of passage, kindled my initial interest in the concept of liminality—a state of being “between and betwixt”— and this eventually fueled my visualization of borders as liminal spaces that are ruled by ambivalence, uncertainty, outsideness, namelessness, instability, resistance, temporariness, convertibility, and innovativeness. I have also benefited from Scott’s approach to subordinate and borderland (e.g., Zomia) populations by spotlighting their agency in making the best out of disadvantages.

These inspirations, however, are inseparable from the training I received

Preface and Acknowledgments / at the Anthropology Department of Boston University, which played an essential role in fostering my intellectual perspicacity and critical perspectives. Fredrik Barth has been the greatest influence on my life and career. He is the only person I have met so far in my life who can be described as both truly charismatic and decently humble. He showed me with his manners, dignity, and wisdom that a great scholar must be a great person in the first place. This book reflects my contemplation on his conceptualization of ethnic and cultural categories as unbounded entities interfacing with each other, as well as his advocacy of the significance of individual concerns, interests, positionality, and creativity in cultural analysis. Charles Lindholm enlightened my path with his scholarly sophistication and interdisciplinary approach, which helped shape the major themes in this book, for example, modernity, tourism, authenticity, and identity. Kimberly Arkin never tired of telling me that I could do better, and this book has been accomplished with her stimulation and urging. My encounter with Robert Weller, my chief adviser, was one of the greatest things that has ever happened in my life. I am inclined to count it a miracle, since he managed to turn such a naive and misplaced initiate into a “complicated” anthropologist. Therefore, this book is my most special gift for this exceptional mentor. What I acquired from people with whom I worked in the field, who welcomed me with warmth and frankness, was no less than the contributions of the above-mentioned erudite scholars. Among them, I am most indebted to Uncle Tenzin. It was he who ushered me into the convoluted landscape of the queendom dispute and introduced me to his family, Moluo Tourism Association members, and other key informants in Suopo. All of them are either anonymous or pseudonymous in the book, but I hope they can feel my wholehearted appreciation for sharing their thoughts and concerns with me. At the same time, I am sorry if I have let them down by being unable to prove that the Eastern Queendom is theirs as they have hoped it would be. A better book has been made possible with important feedback from the following scholars: Stevan Harrell, Emily Yeh, Lorri Hagman, Leonardo Schiocchet, Janet Gyatso, Merry White, John G. Blair, and Jerusha McCormack, to name just a few. So many others have also helped me in one way or another in the course of gathering ideas and completing this book, and I would love to extend my sincere thanks to Robert Hefner, Parker Shipton, Frank Korom, Jenny White, Charlene Makley, Gray Tuttle, Nicolas Sihlé, Navid Fozi-Abivard, Mentor Mustafa, Andrew Armstrong, Shelby Carpenter,

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This book would not have been possible without the general support of the Cora Du Bois Charitable Trust, which granted me a dissertation writing fellowship, and the Fundamental Research Funds for the Central Universities from Lanzhou University (Project Title: The Reconfiguration of Grassroots Politics in Tibetan Regions in the Transitional Era with granting No: 12LZUJBWZDo08).

Finally, Iam grateful to the Agrarian Studies Program of Yale University for hosting me as a postdoctoral associate in 2013-14. This gives me the opportunity to make the best use of the university’s dynamic and creative academic environment. Here I am able to continue my investigation of theoretical debates on borders/frontiers and marginality, collective resistance and political change, and grassroots associations and state-society relations as well as to amplify and extend my analytical model of convergence zone and strategic (or voluntary) marginality into the Himalayan region and Southeast Asia. Readers of this book will also see my further reflections on the issues discussed here and those that will be broadened and freshly explored in the near future. Thus I would like to thank all of you in advance for your continuing interest.

AUTONOMOUS REGION

MAP 1. Gyarong (Rgyal rong), which spans portions of Kham, Amdo, and Sichuan. Adapted from Kolas and Thowsen 2005

MAP 2. Danba County, major sites

T m Relics of the Eastern ` £ Queens Palace

ae Ps Suopo Segment,

To Zhonglu

MAP 3. Suopo, sites of interest

In the Land of the Eastern Queendom

Introduction

In May 2005, an article in a local newspaper, “The Capital of the Eastern Queendom Comes to Light,” rocked Danba County, Ganzi Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, in Sichuan, China. The author, Uncle Pema—a cadre from Suopo Township in Danba—claimed that the capital of this legendary matriarchal kingdom was located precisely in Suopo. Key officials at both the prefectural and county levels were shocked and wasted no time in ordering an investigation into this matter. The reason for their uneasiness was that Danba County had already bestowed the title “Ancient Capital of the Eastern Queendom” (Dongnii Gudu) on Suopo’s neighboring rival township, Zhonglu. So the article was seen as a direct challenge to county authorities. This incident marked a milestone in the efforts of Suopo elites and villagers to reclaim the queendom label. The Suopowa, or people from Suopo (wa means “people” in Tibetan), accused county officials of favoritism and partisanship. In pressing their claims, the Suopowa were seeking to take advantage of the media and initiate collective actions such as demonstrations and pleas to higher authority as well as make use of the legal space of their newly founded quasi-civil association, the Moluo Tourism Association (Moluo Lityou Xiehui). However, the Suopowa’s queendom discourse is full of puzzles and paradoxes that are key to our understanding of the nuances, complexity, and multidimensionality of the queendom dispute. It illuminates local Tibetans’ concerns and interests, as their society is deeply entangled in unprecedented social transformation and engages more intensively with different levels of the state in response to China’s all-inclusive political rearrangements and the ensuing consequences, exemplified by the unfolding intricacy of state-and-society interactions and the proliferation of collective actions throughout China.

The Suopowa’s claim to a lineage connection with the matriarchal queens seems to contradict the pronouncement of their Tibetanness and their desire to identify with the Khampa—a Tibetan subgroup celebrated for its masculine culture. If the Suopowa take pride in their Tibetan identity, why do they label themselves as descendants of non-Tibetan queens? If the Suopowa advertise local males as authentic Khampa men, who are known for being well built, fiercely courageous, and socially unconstrained, why do they sell an apparently feminized image of themselves by declaring that women are more capable and politically sophisticated than men in Suopo? Then, if Suopo women are superior to men, why do they seem not to have played a more active role in the queendom struggle and other collective actions?

The Suopowa’s political stance toward the state and the Chinese Communist Party is also full of puzzles: Why do most Suopowa speak highly of central state policy and the Party while Tibetans as a group are further marginalized in China’s social and political structure as a result of the 2008 Tibetan riots? Why do they fiercely attack the local state for all the wrongs it has done to them while proclaiming their faith in the absolute justice and purity of the central state?

The queendom dispute occurs as Danba has become a nationally acclaimed tourist destination in China and as Danba people are increasingly aware of sexualized representations of local women in the tourist market. This period has also seen exacerbated conflicts within and among villages and townships as well as burgeoning antagonism and resistance against the local state—the county and township. These disputes, however, have little to do with the Tibetan desire for independence. The queendom dispute is not merely an accident or a product of broader Tibetan ethnic politics; instead, it stems from the marginalized status of local people in both Tibetan and Chinese societies and also their experience of modernizing economic and social change in a distinctive local setting. Therefore, the Suopowa’s local political pursuit must also be located within a macroscopic picture of transformations in Chinese society. Thus, the Suopowa’s queendom struggle is simultaneously unique because it is embedded in particular ethnic, cultural, social, and political contexts and not unique because it is a reflection of the profound repercussions and implications of China’s reforms and social change, as showcased in intensified contention between state and society and the boom in various kinds of intermediate associations all over China.

The Suopowa’s perception of marginality, both real and imagined, informs their negotiations of multiple identities and their modernist pursuit of a better life, culturally, economically, and politically. Their marginalized status among both the Han and Tibetans as well as their assumed political peripherality in Danba County are conducive to their reconfigurations of ethnic, political, regional, and other identities. The Suopowa utilize their marginality either as a means of subverting their peripheral position or for the sake of anticipated political goals. In this way, the attribution of marginality sets the stage for their constant negotiations and orchestration of their multiple identities—on the one hand, they have to conform to the framework prescribed by the state and pursue their political aspirations in accordance with that framework, but on the other hand, they are left with much room for playing with and maneuvering within this framework.

As members of a minority ethnic group, and especially as members of the officially identified Zangzu (Tibetan ethnic group), the Suopowa are subject to China’s ethnic and Zangzu policies. Despite the state’s efforts to incorporate Zangzu as an integral part of China, their cultural and linguistic differences and, particularly, the supposedly rebellious nature of some Zangzu distinguish them from the Han and most other less different and thus “loyal” and “patriotic” minorities. Therefore, the Suopowa’s queendom struggle and political claims are informed by this broad social and political environment that has placed them on the margin. As “colorful” and “exotic” minority members, the Suopowa’s identities and self-representations are shaped and structured by the official/state and Han popular discourses. Their queendom and other political claims as well as their identity quests are embedded in their marginalized position among Zangzu. The Suopowa and the Gyarongwa (people of Gyarong) as a whole—a subgroup to which the Suopowa belong— are situated on the periphery of the Tibetan ethnic group and are often not recognized as “authentic” Tibetans in the eyes of many “mainstream” Tibetans. The Suopowa’s contested Tibetan identity has had a profound impact on their identity construction and political positioning. Simultaneously, their struggle for the queendom label also derives from their perceived or imagined political peripherality in Danba—that is, they complain that they have been neglected and taken for granted by the county government. The queendom dispute serves only as an outlet for the expression of such a status on the sociopolitical map of Danba County. Therefore, their queendom discourse is a direct response to and reflection of their ethnic and political marginalities and plays out in the framework of these marginalities.

Yet marginality should not be looked at as merely a constraint that circumscribes actors’ choices. Marginality can also be an opportunity to act as agents. Marginality connotes difference, uniqueness, and, therefore, authenticity in certain circumstances. The Suopowa appropriate their ethnic marginality in order to construct an image of their distinctiveness among all Zangzu subgroups and, thus, their irreplaceable role and “authentic” status in the Tibetan family. They also use this marginality to advertise Suopo as an exceptional and particularly appealing destination in the Chinese tourism market. Making use of their political marginality, the Suopowa hope for possible compensation or rewards from the state and also outsiders’ attention to their grievances and political claims. In so doing, they sometimes situate themselves on the margins, as they consider a state of strategic marginality to be instrumental in engendering positive changes and achieving anticipated political goals.

THE SINO-TIBETAN BORDER AS A CONVERGENCE ZONE

The Suopowa’s identity construction is inseparable from their multiple marginalities as well as the constraints and opportunities these may evoke, and this state of being has everything to do with their status as a people on the Sino-Tibetan border. Therefore, it is necessary to reexamine the concept of border to see how the redefined border illustrates the fluidity and elasticity of marginality and helps identify and unravel the convoluted intricacy of the queendom discourse.

The concept of a border or frontier embodies marginality or peripherality— a state of being distant or withdrawn from sociopolitical and cultural centers or mainstreams; thus the border often becomes a site of escape and flight from the state or similarly powerful political entities (Scott 2009).

Many scholars have pointed out that borderlands are also sites of heterogeneity and transcultural dialogue (Tsing 1993), “interstitial zones” (Gupta 1992) —creative grounds for the making and unmaking of often competing sociocultural worlds (Makley 2003, 598)—or sites for “(border) crossing” (Rosaldo 1993) and transgressing boundaries (Ewing 1998) that entail creative cultural productions and intersections of power and difference.' Therefore, borders are locations not simply where political or cultural territories end but where they meet, contest, negotiate, converge, and fuse and thus where hybrid and new cultures and identities flourish.

Danba, part of the Gyarong region, is situated on the border of the Han and Tibetan regions both geographically and culturally. Danba and Gyarong exemplify the ambiguity, mobility, vitality, creativity, restlessness, and diversity of the border. Thus, Danba and Gyarong may be seen not as peripheral to both the Han and Tibetans but as a convergence zone where the Han and Tibetan peoples and cultures connect, interact, exchange, compete, blend, and coexist. They are places where locals not only incorporate various elements from these two peoples and cultures but also carve out a new space for their survival, cultural expressions, identity construction, and political positioning. The term “convergence zone” may embrace hybridity (Bhabha 1994) and creolization (Hannerz 1992); however, this notion best describes Gyarong’s in-between status as well as its distinctiveness in relation to the Han and Tibetans.

A hybridized condition requires a space where the center and the periphery (e.g., colonizers and the colonized, or the West and the East) are no longer positioned as antitheses but exist in dialectic ongoing interactions with “intertwined histories and engagement across dichotomies” (Prakash 1994, 1486; see Bhabha 1994). As a consequence, the hybrid breaks down the symmetry and duality of self/other, inside/outside (Bhabha 1994, 165). In this way, hybridity opens up a space of ambivalence and ambiguity characterized by the blurring of the once clear-cut center-periphery boundary. Thus it creates a possibility for the once marginalized to move from the periphery toward the center. Nevertheless, the center will simultaneously remap itself as the authority and embodiment of purity and authenticity in contrast to the peripheral “bastards” who are very close to “us/white” but not quite “white,” or who simply present black skins with white masks (ibid., 88, 172; see also Fanon 2008).

The idea of creolization demonstrates a similar form of interaction between the center and the periphery. Creolized cultures are seen to be saturated with power structure and asymmetric relations because the cultures that interact are not equal to each other and at least one is always situated in a dominant position; however, the cultural processes of creolization involve much more creative center-periphery interactions (Hannerz 1992). A new (creolized) culture emerges out of multidimensional cultural encounters as unique combinations and creations.” Therefore, creolized cultures are not simple replicas of dominant cultures; instead, they are combinations of innovative and selective appropriations of dominant cultural forms and indigenous readings and applications of them in a particular local context. The agency of the marginal is underscored in the way that the periphery is believed not only to be able to talk back but also to possess the potential of rising as the center (ibid., 266).

The notions of hybridity and creolization are useful for identifying aspects of a dynamic convergence zone. Gyarong forms a hybridized or creolized society due to the considerable impacts of the Han/state and Tibetans on local cultures, politics, and identities in their intensive encounters. Gyarong’s representations and positioning vis-a-vis the Han/state and Tibetans exemplify the dialectic interplay between the center and the periphery as illustrated by these notions. A noteworthy example is the locals’ use of their ambivalent ethnic and linguistic origins and their marginal status as leverage in negotiating their identities with the centers. Nevertheless, both concepts still tend to underline the predominant role and “purity” of the center and thus the secondary value of the periphery. As a result, the relatively separate cultural forms and distinctive identities of peripheral societies are left unattended.

What distinguishes the idea of a convergence zone from these two notions is the importance it attaches to a peripheral society’s status as an active local center. As a convergence zone, Gyarong is the site where the Han and Tibetan centers coalesce, fuse, and contend and where the local society engages and intersects with the Han and Tibetan centers simultaneously. In this instance, Gyarong is not always in a peripheral position; in fact, in local discourse, Gyarong is viewed as a dynamic center. What comes out of these multiple encounters and convergences is a new, heterogeneous, and dynamic Gyarong culture and identity. This new culture and identity carry imprints from both of the centers, but in this convergence zone, one also sees the flourishing of distinctive local culture and identity. Therefore, Gyarong society is not simply the equivalent of Tibetan elements plus Han/state components. Gyarong society has its own indigenous traditions and local sociopolitical contexts; thus, Gyarong stands as a relatively independent political and cultural entity. This suggests that the Suopowa’s queendom struggle and identity construction are embedded not only in engagement and contention between state politics and Tibetan identity/ethno-nationalism but also in the local society’s distinctive historical, cultural, and political contexts and its positioning vis-a-vis the Han/state and Tibetans.

The queendom discourse is deconstructed not so much through the marginalizing of the Gyarongwa and the Suopowa as through their persistent efforts to challenge or even reverse the dominant discourse and political structure that often place them at a disadvantage. Their ingenious application of their peripheral status, noteworthy strategic marginality, is rooted in their liminal standing as a people straddling two worlds on the Sino- Tibetan border—a convergence zone where a dynamic center-periphery paradigm is constantly reconfigured and renegotiated. They are peripheral to the Han/state center and the Tibetan center but are simultaneously ushered into both; alternatively, they take the initiative and validate their unequivocal centrality, and in their local representations, Gyarong is also seen as a self-sustained vital center. In this way, three major dimensions of their identity are brought into being: worthy Chinese citizens, “authentic” Tibetans, and distinctive Gyarongwa. Each of these identities and other derivative identities come to prominence in different contexts. Although the Suopowa cannot always choose who or what they are, they have managed to secure space for manipulating these and other identities to their advantage. In constructing and negotiating their identities, they activate and invigorate an intertwined network of sociopolitical restructurings: evolving Chinese ethnic landscape and fluctuating Tibetan policy, the repositioning of the local society vis-a-vis the township, county, and other levels of the state, and an upsurge in collective action or rural unrest as well as the heterogenization of the societal sector and the state. This state of being will not only bring to light the nuanced and involuted sociopolitical landscape of the queendom discourse but also provide a glimpse into transforming Chinese, Tibetan, and Gyarong societies.

Chapter 1

The Suopowa’s queendom discourse is not simply a product of tourism propaganda, nor is the uncovering of the Eastern Queendom (Dongniiguo) merely an accident. Occurring at a time of sweeping social and political changes, this discourse sheds light on the Suopowa’s negotiation of various identities and their initiatives for strategizing marginality in pursuit of their political objectives. The Suopowa’s peripheral status vis-a-vis the Han/state, and Tibetans has been critical in shaping this discourse, and their struggle exemplifies China’s ethnic policy and Tibetan politics. How did the Suopowa and the Gyarongwa become “official Tibetans,” or Zangzu, in the first place? And how does their contested Tibetan identity inform their choices and concerns through the queendom dispute? Was the queendom discovery coincidental? Under what circumstances was the queendom unearthed? And how has the queendom discourse been propagated?

MAPPING THE EASTERN QUEENDOM

Scholars point out that the title “Eastern Queendom” was used to describe two different political entities at the time of the Sui (581-618) and Tang (618-

907) dynasties: one south of Cong Ling, or the Pamir Mountains (running across western China and southeastern Central Asia), or, more precisely, in western Tibet adjacent to the Himalayas (Shi 2009a), and the other somewhere between Tibet and Sichuan.! The exact location of the second differs in Chinese historical sources: the Book of Sui (Suishu) and the History of Northern Dynasties (Beishi) suggest it was in today’s Chamdo (C: Changdu) in the east of the present-day Tibet Autonomous Region, while the Old Tang History (Jiu Tangshu) and the New Tang History (Xin Tangshu) indicate that it was in the Dajinchuan region (today’s Jinchuan and Danba Counties) in western Sichuan.” Most scholars tend to favor one over the other, and thus no consensus has been reached. According to Guo Shengbo (2002), there are two other plausible explanations that have often been overlooked: first, that there were two Eastern Queendoms located somewhere between Tibet and Sichuan and, second, that the queendom in Chamdo migrated to the Dajinchuan region in western Sichuan. Guo espouses the second claim, arguing that the migration occurred in the first half of the seventh century when the rising Tibetan empire severely threatened the Chamdo queendom’s survival or invaded its territory.

Many scholars acknowledge that the record of the Eastern Queendom in the Old Tang History is more accurate than the record in the New Tang History, which conflates the queendom in western Tibet and the one in western Sichuan. Nevertheless, some accounts of the Eastern Queendom in western Tibet in the Book of Sui are almost exactly the same as those of the Eastern Queendom in western Sichuan in the Old Tang History, such as the use of ornithomancy—divination by the use of birds—burial practices for nobles, the reign of a major and a lesser queen, succession practices, and housing styles. Some scholars argue that these two queendoms did have much in common, yet others assert that the queendom in western Tibet migrated to western Sichuan. According to Shi Shuo, it would have been nearly impossible for these two queendoms to share so many similarities considering the distance between them, diverse geographic and ecological environments, and different modes of livelihood; in addition, a move to western Sichuan would not have been practical (see Shi 2009a). Thus, Shi argues that the Old Tang History incorporates accounts of the queendom in western Tibet from the Book of Sui in its depiction of the queendom in western Sichuan. In his view, the name “Eastern Queendom” originally referred exclusively to the one in western Tibet and was also used for the one in western Sichuan at the turn of the ninth century. Therefore, the existence of one single title in documenting two different Eastern Queendoms in historical works has resulted in confusion for later historians and modernday scholars. He concluded that the records of queendom customs and political systems such as ornithomancy, burial traditions, ruling and succession practices, and housing styles were incompatible with those of the queendom in western Sichuan and thus were historical accounts of the queendom in western Tibet instead.