Welcome to a special Flight of the Khyung! This month we take you to what may have been the greatest capital of the Zhang Zhung kingdom. We will examine hard chronological evidence and its implications for understanding the cultural makeup of Upper Tibet centuries before its annexation by King Songtsen Gampo in the 7th century CE.
A major center of civilization in Upper Tibet, circa the 3rd century CE
On the UTRAE II, I visited Gurgyam (Gur-gyam) again, a Bon monastery in southwestern Tibet. I have been a regular visitor since 1986. In that year, the late Tenzin Wangdrak Rinpoche led me around the site and shared his plans for rebuilding the monastery and retreat center. His efforts proved an admirable success. Gurgyam is located in the upper Sutlej River valley, at the foot of a colorful earthen formation pockmarked with caves. In the environs of this scenic religious center are a number of archaeological sites of great importance. Among these is Khardong (Mkhar-gdong), a large ruined citadel situated atop a mesa standing little more than a kilometer away from Gurgyam.
In the 1930s, Gurgyam was identified as the ancient capital of the Zhang Zhung kingdom by the famous Bon lama Khyungtrul Jikme Namkha Dorje. Known as Khyunglung Ngulkhar (Khyung-lung dngul-mkhar) in Tibetan literary sources, this capital and other Zhang Zhung sites are closely associated with early religious practitioners called bon-po. That such a large and strategically important citadel was established at Khardong seems to support its identification with Khyunglung Ngulkhar. However, there is not yet sufficient evidence to pronounce Khardong the capital of Zhang Zhung. That said, the textual and archaeological evidence is compelling, making Khardong the best candidate we have for Khyunglung Ngulkhar. As for the name ‘Zhang Zhung’, it can be traced back to 8th to 10th century CE texts written in Old Tibetan. From these and later sources we cannot be sure that the culture, language and polity of prehistoric western Tibet were actually called Zhang Zhung. Be that as it may, for more than a millennium, parts or most all of Upper Tibet has been assigned this toponym in Tibetan literature.
Ascertaining the political character of Zhang Zhung from Old Tibetan and Bon sources has been undertaken by various Tibetologists. These literary accounts often speak of a powerful territory ruled by various kings, a set of eighteen of which are supposed to have possessed horned headdresses. Motivated often by sectarian and ideological calculations, many of these textual sources are very difficult to assess historically. We are left with a body of dramatic legends and myths, that undoubtedly contain bits of history, but to pick and choose between them is a tall order. It is only through the archaeological record that we have any hope of accurately appraising what has been written.
For those not familiar with my work on Khardong and its possible connections to Khyunglung Ngulkhar, see:
1) Flight of the Khyung (May, 2011). http://www.tibetarchaeology.com/may-201l/
2) Antiquities of Upper Tibet (Delhi: Adroit Publishers), 2002.
3) “gShen-rab Myi-bo” in Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines, no. 19 (http://www.himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/ret/pdf/ret_19_03.pdf), 2010.
4) “Territorial Characteristics of the Pre-Buddhist Zhang-zhung Paleocultural Entity” in Emerging Bon (ed. H. Blezer), pp. 51–113. (Halle: International Institute for Tibetan and Buddhist Studies), forthcoming.
Also see the following articles by two other archaeologists who have surveyed the site:
5) Li Yongxian’s “Archaeological Survey of ‘Khyung Lung Silver Castle’ in Western Tibet” in Emerging Bon (ed. H. Blezer), pp. 35–52. (Halle), forthcoming.
6) Mark Aldenderfer and Holly Moyes’ “In the Valley of the Eagle: Zhangzhung, Kyunglung and the Pre-Buddhist sites of Far Western Tibet” (http://www.penn.museum/documents/publications/expedition/PDFs/47-2/In%20the%20Valley.pdf).
In 2006, in the plain below the Gurgyam monastery, an opulent burial was unearthed by resident monks. These good friars have gone through extraordinary measures to recover and conserve the human and material remains from this burial. I first reviewed this exceptional tomb find in the October 2010 issue of Flight of the Khyung. There is much research that needs to be conducted if we are to better understand the physical and cultural components of the burial. A battery of archaeometric tests and analyses is required, ranging from the forensic to the radiological and dendrochronological. This current newsletter is merely another introductory report on the Gurgyam tomb, which is written to give some direction and context to future studies.
As noted in the October 2010 newsletter, the AMS dating of a piece of a femur recovered from the Gurgyam inhumation has yielded a calibrated date of 220–350 CE. Analyzing the conventional and calibrated dates along with the intercept data indicates that this burial was most likely made in the second half of the 3rd century CE. Many of the grave goods from the Gurgyam burial must be from this same general period. Others may be somewhat earlier if they were in the possession of the deceased long term as special possessions or heirlooms.
Fig. 1. The discovery of this patterned silk in the Gurgyam burial created quite a sensation in the international academic community. The learned comments of experts pertaining to it are found in the October 2010 newsletter.
In 2011, I learned that the Gurgyam silk has been placed between two plates of glass and sealed with masking tape. Earlier I thought that the silk rested directly against the wood backing of a picture frame, providing some ventilation. I recommended to the monk conservators at Gurgyam that they remove the silk from its current receptacle and store it in a roomy plain brown cardboard or unpainted/untreated wooden box between pieces of handmade Tibetan paper, and placed in the same secure location. This would protect the extremely delicate textile from moisture, static charges, chemical contamination, and frictional wear. The monks were receptive to what I had to say, and said that they will seek approval from local government officials to store the artifact as specified.
Fig. 2. A close-up view of confronted waterfowl woven in the Gurgyam silk. What appears to be a pair of ducks or geese stand within wave and floral-like purfle. These motifs are beige in color while the ground is a rich indigo blue.
Fig. 3. Center: a pair of peacocks and a pair of what appear to be carnivores. Flanking these animals are other zoomorphic pairs. Small linear designs in pairs can also be seen in the image. Some experts believe that these are Chinese characters, but they observe that the ideograms appear to be non-standard or distorted in form.
In an online article by Tang Tao, he holds that the patterned Gur-gyam silk is of typical Han manufacture.* This position is also taken by certain foreign experts quoted in the October 2010 “Flight of the Khyung”. Nonetheless, there are dissenting voices in that newsletter, who view the cultural and historical background of the silk as being potentially a good deal more complicated than merely a Han dynasty import. In his article, Tong Tao thinks that silks with the same ‘inscription’ and patterns have been found in the Yingpan and Astana cemeteries of the Taklamakan basin. These sites date to the 3rd to 5th centuries CE. Tong Tao then concludes that the silk of Gurgyam dates to the 4th or 5th century CE. However, as the Gurgyam silk must per force predate the time of the burial, a date in the second half of the 4th century or 5th century CE cannot be entertained ( as discussed, a second half of the 3rd century CE attribution is most likely).
* “Silks from Han to Jin Period Found near Kyung-lung dngul-mkhar, the Capital of Ancient Xiang Xiong Kingdom in Ngari, Tibet” in Chinese Archaeology, Institute of Chinese Archaeology Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, posted on October 17, 2011. http://www.kaogu.cn/en/detail.asp?ProductID=3120)
I will offer a few observations concerning the Gurgyam silk, but hasten to add that I am no expert in ancient textiles. This is a highly specialized field of study in which I have little experience. I simply tender the following comments to stimulate further discussion and inquiry. I have examined images of the Yingpan, Astana and Niya silks, and while seeing general esthetic similarities, question how close their cultural affiliations with the Gurgyam silk actually were. Many of the individual decorative motifs of the Gurgyam piece are quite distinct in form, and perhaps more importantly they are assembled into a different overall scheme. This led Victor Mair (an eminent scholar specializing in the archaeology of Xinjiang) and I independently to consider the possibility that this precious textile was woven locally from imported silk thread (on environmental grounds it does not appear that sericulture was ever practiced in western Tibet).
We are left with the possibility that the silk textile itself or the thread from which it was produced came from Han China and entered Tibet as a trade good or diplomatic exchange (directly from the Chinese or through intermediaries). We know from experts who contributed to my 2010 newsletter on the subject, that sericulture and silk weaving reached Khotan in the 2nd century CE and Mongolia probably around the same time. From the 3rd century CE, Sassanian Iran was also weaving silks of exquisite quality. Therefore, it is also possible that the Gurgyam silk or the yarn from which it was woven was an import from a Central Asian source and not China. In any case, the Gurgyam silk exhibits less ‘Silk Road’ influences than silks that postdate it from the Taklamakan with their Byzantine and Sassanian overtones.
Fig. 4. The inner border of the Gurgyam silk reveals a very finely woven silk batten. This is a feature of the textile not reported on earlier. Perhaps this will prove an important clue for specialists in Central Asian textiles and archaeology.
We will now take a look at other Gurgyam grave goods collected by the monks, which are proudly displayed in the little museum they have built. Gurgyam must boast one of the only archaeological museums opened in a Tibetan monastery. Other artifacts from the burial are depicted in the October 2010 newsletter.
Fig. 5. Thick-walled, roughly modeled beaker and goblets. Note that the beaker has a pouring lip while the other vessels are stemmed. These vessels must have played a role in the burial rite. The Tibetan label behind the vessels says, ‘ceramics’ (rdza).
Fig. 6. A lathe-turned wooden object. The strap lathe and bow lathe were used widely in Eurasia in antiquity. We now know that by the 3rd or 4th century CE, Tibetans also knew the woodworking lathe, a significant discovery. The notch in the rim of the lid-like object and the circular disc and other fragment contained inside suggest that this was originally a relatively intricate piece of (ritual?) equipment.
Fig. 7. A copper-alloy vessel labeled by the monks as ‘bronze cup’ (li-skyogs). Yes, almost certainly, this object with its handle was cast as a drinking cup. The ring handle appears to have been designed with a finger rest.
Fig. 8. Thin pieces of silver (?) embossed with diagonal lines. Some of these fragments appear to have been gilt. These fragments probably formed ornamental plates or sheathing. As with the copper, iron and copper-alloy items found in the same burial, these snippets are the handiwork of a people well versed in metallurgy and metalworking.
Fig. 9. This artifact from the Gurgyam interment is labeled ‘bellows tube of copper’ (zangs kyi sbud-pa). The function of this grave good is unknown, but it is worth mentioning that the archaic funerary tradition, as recorded in Old Tibetan literature, describes the use of tubes or conduits made of various metals (including copper) in a ritual to free the dead from demonic hindrances. For more information on this funerary ritual, see my forthcoming book, Death and Beyond in Ancient Tibet (Austrian Academy of Sciences, 2012).
Fig. 10. A fragment of a human cranium. The monks assiduously collected the bones from the Gurgyam burial and have stored them well. It would be extremely valuable if these remains were to undergo osteological analyses. This is but one kind of scientific study required if we are to maximize our knowledge about the burial. Thanks to the care taken by the Gurgyam monks, further research is now feasible. Other tombs in the region have been opened without proper oversight and the contents discarded save for what may have market or esthetic value.
We now move a mile east to the citadel of Khardong. In 2010 and 2011, the monks made a series of discoveries there, all of which are housed in their museum. The keen eyesight and intimate acquaintance with the site permitted them to find things on the surface missed by other research teams.
Fig. 11. Among the finds at Khardong was this piece of timber (28 cm long by 17 cm in diameter). It was recovered from inside a masonry wall in the upper sector of the site.
As Mark Aldenderfer notes in his article (see bibliographic details above), with it’s larger and better constructed structures, the upper sector of Khardong appears to have been reserved for elite activity, such as that which revolved around the local ruling authority. Regional personnel requested that I date the piece of wood collected by the monks. A 6 cm length was removed from the raw timber. I had this sample AMS assayed by Beta Analytic, a well known radiocarbon lab in Miami, Florida. This piece of wood (poplar or willow?) provided sufficient final carbon for testing. It yielded a calibrated date of 130 CE to 260 CE. Its intercept date is 240 CE, just ten years earlier than the one for the Gurgyam burial. Looking at the chronometric data from these two samples in toto, we can be quite confident that the piece of wood (at the time of the tree’s death) is 50 to 150 years older than the buried occupant of Gurgyam. According to Li Yongxian’s lecture delivered at the International Association of Tibetan Studies conference in Bonn (2006), there were two major periods of occupation at the site: 1500–500 BCE and 100 BCE to 500 CE. It would appear, then, that the wood timber, which is almost certainly a constructional element, belongs to the middle of the latter phase of occupation at Khardong.
Before proceeding to possible implications of the chronometric findings reviewed above, let us view a few more artifacts recently discovered at Khardong. These will give us a better idea of the purview of material goods known in southwest Tibet in the 2nd to 4th century CE timeframe.
Fig. 12. A carved bi-hemispherical white igneous stone. The Gurgyam monks and I concur that this is a weight used on the end of a Tibetan beam scale. Identical stones (of various sizes) were used as weights right up to the modern period. The discovery of this Khardong example suggests that at least part of the traditional system of weights and measures in pre-modern Tibet was of pre-Buddhist antiquity. This stone, provided it dates to the time of the citadel, indicates that uniform standards had been adopted in parts of the Plateau very early on. Any such standardization of weights and measures would have facilitated trade and economic development. Wide, even interregional, trading networks may be implicated in this discovery. This scenario is supported by the discovery of cane and silk in the Gurgyam burial, commodities that in their raw forms came from outside the borders of Upper Tibet. To better understand the significance of the Khardong weight will require further research and exploration.
Fig. 13. Foliar iron arrowhead with long tapering tang. This implement is probably the product of a fully developed iron smelting culture.
Fig. 14. A selection of semiprecious stone and glass beads recovered from Khardong by the sharp-eyed monks. This array of ornaments is remarkable for its sheer variety. The beads shown here represent diverse techniques of manufacture applied to a broad group of materials. These beads may date to different time periods. This variety in stones and glass is yet another potent sign that ancient southwestern Tibet was part of a far-ranging web of trade and exchange, one that encompassed sundry regions. I very much welcome the comments of readers, some of whom are liable to know more about ancient beads than I do. The function of the pieces of clear quartz and the dark-colored cylindrical stone in the image are unknown.
This newsletter focuses on two sites separated by just a mile and less than 150 years. The Gurgyam burial and Khardong citadel could not have existed in isolation from one another, for the latter stronghold ruled over the plains spread out below it. Here, as at other archaic archaeological sites in Upper Tibet, residential occupation occurred in the heights while the plains were used for mortuary purposes. The burial and fortress represent the interrelated monumental assemblage of the living and the dead. The study of Khardong made by Li Yongxian indeed confirms that this site chronologically overlaps with the Gurgyam tomb.
The individual interred in the Gurgyam tomb was of high social status and/or rank. This is demonstrated by the fine quality and sheer diversity of grave goods. A person of this lofty stature must have had an intimate association with the Khardong citadel but in what capacity is not known. The Gurgyam burial may help to establish Khardong as Khyunglung Ngulkhar, but this amounts to more circumstantial evidence, not definitive proof.
The nature of artifacts found at Gurgyam and Khardong are indicative of a culture characterized by a relatively high level of sophistication. Make no mistake; the objects recovered are the vestiges of a well developed material cultural regime, one based upon complex manufacturing and trading capabilities. Nevertheless, to date, there is no epigraphic or archaeological evidence for a written language having existed in Upper Tibet during the early centuries of the first millennium CE. Moreover, claims made in Bon literature for a Zhang Zhung script remain unsubstantiated. The refinement of Tibetan civilization in material and cultural terms, 1600 and more years ago, belies Lamaist stereotypes of a benighted and barbarous land in the period before Buddhism came to dominate. Since Victorian times, this stereotype of a savage pre-Buddhist Tibet has permeated Western scholarship as well. Nothing could be further from the truth. Furthermore, Tibetan Buddhist accounts that attribute the founding of civilization to the first Central Tibetan king, Nyatri Tsenpo (gNya’-khri btsan-po), or agriculture and metallurgy to Tibet’s ninth king Pude Gungyal (Pu-lde gung-rgyal), must also be called into question.
It appears that Buddhists were very sensitive about Tibet’s past, intent as they often were on seeing it through an unfavorable lens. This is not criticism of the Bodhidharma, but rather a critique of the political apparatus surrounding it. The syndrome of disparaging those who came before is reflected in cultural successors the world over. The situation in environmentally marginal Upper Tibet was particularly delicate. In the Lamaist era, the earlier extent of civilization was never reached again. A deteriorating climate worked against any such ambition. A possible precipitous fall in the native population in the region may also have contributed to a much reduced civilizational order in historic times.
The existence of extensive arable lands upstream and downstream of Gurgyam and Khardong tells us that its ancient residents belonged to an agrarian society. Agriculture in the region has every sign of originating in antiquity, as indicated by Tibetan folklore and literature, as well as by the wholesale abandonment of farmlands in the region over what appears to have been a very long period of time (retreating agricultural production in western Tibet is yet another area of study awaiting the attention of researchers).
Gurgyam and Khardong belonged to a specific type of settlement pattern, which can be characterized as ‘citadel agriculture’. This was the same form of settlement found in virtually every valley system of western Tibet before the Buddhist era. Residences and farms were aggregated around the protective embrace of fortresses strategically placed on summits for defense. In the last 15 years, I have surveyed dozens of these fortified sites in western Tibet. Like those of other centers of citadel agriculture, the makers of the Gurgyam burial and Khardong castle were a sedentary people. The climate and environment in western Tibet could only accommodate nucleated settlements, for water and arable land were restricted resources. In contrast, in the plains of India or China, settlement tended to be more diffuse and prolific. Thus, the population densities attained in western Tibet may have been considerably less than in many low elevation regions.
The acquisition of temporal power is not simply a matter of numbers. It extends to the manner in which societies are organized. The existence of a network of aggregated settlements and the broad range of material good produced combined with the rigors of the climate suggest that western Tibet excelled in the utilization of its human resources. Tibetan texts complement this view with their picture of a martial people. Further political and economic strength must have come from the pastoralists, who were interspersed between the citadel communities. The herders of yaks, goats, sheep, and horses added demographic bulk and economic wealth to the chain of citadels and agricultural enclaves.
According to Tong Tao (see bibliographic information above), the wooden coffin of the Gurgyam burial is identical to wooden coffins from Niya, Yingpan and Khotan from the first half of the first millennium CE. He observes that the Gurgyam coffin must result from influences derived from these Taklamakan sites. In my opinion, it far too early in the investigation to pronounce which people was in the culturally or politically dominant position. A two-way street of trade and exchange between the Tibetan Plateau and Taklamakan is probably indicated. Western Tibet was rich in raw materials (pastoral products, wild game, gold, botanicals, and salt and other minerals) as well as high quality finished products from which much power and influence may have been leveraged.
Tong Tao also notes that the U-shaped wooden comb, wooden cup and woven basketry bear strong similarities to those of Loulan and Khotan. Similarities in material goods, especially when the inventory we have to work with is so small, do not in themselves necessarily divulge the extent of cultural affinities between disparate regions. That admonition aside, there were indeed cultural links between Xinjiang and western Tibet in antiquity, as I show in various writings. The challenge now before us is to collect the data that will permit a better understanding of the nature of that interrelationship.
Let us place the Gurgyam burial and wooden timber from Khardong in a wider cultural perspective. In 220 CE, the Han dynasty collapsed ushering in a long and unsettled period in Chinese history. Even at the height of Han expansion, direct contacts with Western Tibet were limited at best, because Han armies did not penetrate that far. It is more plausible that these two powers knew of each other through cultural intermediaries and trading partners. In the 3rd century CE, the Parthian empire extended its maritime trade routes as far as Southeast Asia, and Manichaeism spread throughout much of Asia. What contacts, if any, western Tibetans had with Parthia and the religion of Mani is unclear. My extensive survey work in western Tibet has not turned up a single inscription written in a foreign language (unlike Ladakh and Indus Kohistan with their multilingual epigraphy). This lack of epigraphic evidence suggests that external cultural influences were minimal in scope or heavily modulated through indigenous structures. By the same line of reasoning, it is hard to see how the Gupta, Sassanian or Kushan empires could have had any more than tangential influence in western Tibet, in the 2nd to 4th centuries CE. Moreover, the artifacts, art and architecture of these peoples have not been documented in Upper Tibet. While trade links in particular are indicated (perhaps an odd coin or two from adjoining states will show up in western Tibet, if they have not already), massive demographic or cultural intrusions are not. All relevant evidence shows that Upper Tibet was most receptive to vectors of influence originating in north Inner Asia.
The archaeological evidence taken as a whole bespeaks an ancient Upper Tibet very much in control of its own destiny, with its own unique culture and way of life centuries before the advent of Buddhism.
The western highlands were a great hub of the distinctive Tibetan civilization with its many linguistic and geographic branches. The ethnical and cultural makeup of ancient Upper Tibet, therefore, must be understood on its own terms and not simply through the looking glass of other peoples. It is only in the last few years that the archaeological discoveries needed to appreciate the level of advancement reached in western Tibetan by the early first millennium CE have appeared. The same can be said for other quarters of the Tibetan Plateau as well: they had achieved a great deal of cultural and technological advancement in the pre-Buddhist epoch.
A final word in this newsletter on Zhang Zhung. Can what has been discovered on the ground be equated with the Zhang Zhung of Tibetan and Chinese historical texts? The answer is yes, but with some qualification. Inasmuch as Zhang Zhung is the traditional appellation for the land, cultural and people of western Tibet, it can with good reason be used as an archaeological term to describe the general character of pre-Buddhist civilization in that region. It is important to point out, however, that Zhang Zhung is not tantamount to a specific period of time or phase in Upper Tibetan Civilization. Perhaps when enough archaeological information is acquired we might begin to refer to earlier and later Zhang Zhungs, but that remains to be seen. In the same overarching way, the traditional word bon / bon-po (not to be equated with the Lamaist Bon religion) can be applied to the cultural and religious make up of pre-Buddhist Upper Tibet. However, when used in an archaeological context this term needs to be qualified chronologically, geographically and functionally. Upon saying that, welcome to the amazing world of Zhang Zhung and bon!
More on ancient western Tibet next month!