This year’s Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMFF) faced an unprecedented controversy when it screened the “Xizang Panorama,” a curated set of Chinese films presenting a sanitized, state-approved vision of Tibet. Funded and curated under Chinese institutional influence, the segment sparked fierce backlash from Tibetan diaspora groups, Nepali cultural workers, and activists, bringing KIMFF into a high-stakes balancing act between diplomatic pressure and public outcry. “Xizang” is the Chinese state’s name for Tibet, one that it has been more actively promoting in the past two years, and one that KIMFF had never used before. The festival’s programming and terminology reflect ongoing negotiations around funding, influence, and narrative framing. KIMFF’s decision to use the word ‘Xizang’ and screen Chinese state propaganda about Tibet in a city with close historical ties to Tibet and that has long hosted a Tibetan refugee population was a jarring about-turn in the context of shifting geopolitical centres of gravity.
This piece unpacks the unfolding drama of this year’s festival, from the content and messaging of the films themselves to the fraught partnerships that enable their inclusion, to the broader context of Nepal’s shifting cultural landscape under Chinese influence. It also tells a story of public backlash holding the festival accountable for platforming propaganda and of the deep-rooted funding challenges facing cultural institutions like KIMFF, which make them vulnerable to external influence. Ultimately, this controversy lays bare the tensions between artistic freedom, geopolitical contestation, and the survival of independent cultural institutions in Nepal today.
Amplifying backlash against the propaganda on the Festival Stage
On 27 May, two days before the Xizang Panorama was set to be shown at KIMFF, a coalition of 145 Tibet-related organizations released a joint statement urging for the panorama’s cancellation, calling it “weaponised storytelling by China to further oppress Tibetans and erase their history.”
Dhondup Wangchen and Golog Jigme, critically acclaimed Tibetan filmmakers and activists who were jailed and tortured for making a film in 2008 Tibet about Chinese occupation, penned an open letter to KIMFF on 29 May, 2025. They wrote:
“The films being shown in this program are not harmless stories. They are propaganda. They tell the world that Tibet is free and happy under Chinese rule, while in reality, our people are under constant surveillance, our language is being eradicated, and our children are being separated from their families and sent to colonial boarding schools. […] This isn’t just about politics. It’s about whether a film festival will be used to spread lies and remake history. […] Tibetans have had their voices stolen again and again.”
During the first screening on 29 May, notable moments included KIMFF director Ramyata Limbu introducing the films as coming from the “highlands of China” and a Nepali translator briefly, and tellingly, slipping up and saying “Tibet.” At the screening on 29 May, the audience was largely passive, with the exception of one person who questioned Limbu about how propaganda films like The Life of Buda were allowed to be shown at the festival. Limbu looked startled, passed the question to the Chinese curator, and the conversation was quickly shut down.
Interestingly, when interviewed after the first screening, the filmmakers behind the Xizang Panorama expressed positive views about their experience at KIMFF and their visit to Nepal in general. In an interview with Rising Nepal, filmmaker Lu Yiyan remarked, “[KIMFF] has been providing platforms to all types of filmmakers and producers.” While the festival has indeed showcased a diverse range of films beyond the Xizang Panorama this year, it is evident that KIMFF has not included independent Tibetan voices, whether filmmakers, producers, or artists, whose work might challenge the narratives presented in the Xizang Panorama. The absence of Tibetan filmmakers and dissenting narratives speaks volumes about who is allowed to speak and who is rendered invisible.
On the same day as the screening at KIMFF, 29 May, another showing of the Xizang Panorama had taken place at the Central Library of Tribhuvan University, Nepal’s largest and most prestigious academic institution. The parallel event, hosted within a public university setting, suggests a wider effort to normalize and legitimize the narratives put forth by the Xizang Panorama, extending its reach beyond the festival to spaces of intellectual and cultural authority.
Backlash was growing among members of the Tibetan diaspora as well as artists, writers, and cultural workers within and beyond Nepal, with individuals raising concerns on social media about the political implications of the program. A petition calling for a public acknowledgment, an apology to the Tibetan community, and a commitment to transparent curatorial practices was circulated, ultimately garnering around 105 signatures from individuals across artistic, academic, and cultural spheres. According to sources near KIMFF, some filmmakers presenting their work at KIMFF, as well as other festival donors, also reportedly voiced their discontent with the festival’s decision to host the Xizang Panorama. Within days, the pressure began to show.
Another screening of the Xizang Panorama was set to take place alongside a dinner reception at the Taragaon Museum in Boudha, Kathmandu with a lengthy list of guests of both KIMFF and the Pan-Himalayan Communications Research Center (PHCRC). However, due to the public outcry, Taragaon museum cancelled its participation in this event with KIMFF, despite tremendous pressure from the Chinese embassy and the PHCRC. Boudha is a neighbourhood with a strong Tibetan presence and based off a conversation with Roshan Mishra, the director of Taragaon Museum, it is clear that they ultimately felt the insensitivity of the planned event. The withdrawal of Taragaon Museum from the event, as planned originally in an MOU with KIMFF, was triggered by the widespread backlash against KIMFF for their first screening of the event. KIMFF’s organizers as well as the Taragaon Museum are said to have received outraged and angry phone calls from the Chinese embassy. Sources close to KIMFF say that both the festival and the organizers as individuals were threatened with blacklisting, presumably suggesting the termination of collaboration and support. Furthermore, the embassy was said to have been upset at KIMFF’s inability to deliver on the contract with PHCRC. What this contract entails is as yet unclear.
This scene exposes a conflict-ridden festival rife with fractures not only between festival organizers, the public, and local cultural institutions, but also between KIMFF and its funders. While the Pan-Himalayan Communications Research Center promoted the screening as a flagship success on their Facebook page, KIMFF found itself navigating controversy and diplomatic pressure — an example of how cultural platforms can become sites of geopolitical contestation. Notably, the ‘About Us’ page of the KIMFF website, which previously listed the festival’s director and other key team members, also appears to have been removed.
Intersecting agendas: Cultural diplomacy and strategic influence
The Xizang Panorama took place in the context of the 70th anniversary of Nepal–China diplomatic relations. It follows a growing pattern of cultural diplomacy efforts, including the “China Film Day” on January 9th, 2025—a similar initiative hosted by the Chinese Embassy, China Film Administration, China Film Archive, and the Nepal Film & Cultural Academy at the Chhaya Center. Quoted in the Kathmandu Post, KP Pathak, chairperson of the Nepal Film & Cultural Academy, remarked: “Events like these are instrumental in fostering mutual respect and understanding between nations. They pave the way for co-productions, joint ventures, and shared narratives that can resonate with global audiences. I’m confident this is just the beginning of a new chapter in Nepal–China cinematic relations.”
These initiatives are supported by emerging institutional partnerships that underpin cultural cooperation at a deeper level. Alongside the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, the 2025 edition of KIMFF was primarily sponsored by the Pan-Himalayan Communications Research Center (PHCRC). Interestingly, this entity identifies itself as a “communications research center” and is a collaboration of departments focused on communications rather than film or the arts; it seems to indicate a political agenda rather than an artistic one. Established jointly by the School of Public Affairs and Administration and the Center for Digitalized Culture and Media at the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China in Sichuan and Kathmandu University’s School of Arts Department of Languages and Mass Communication, PHCRC describes itself as a “Belt and Road Initiative for academic exchange and media cooperation among countries in the region.” For Nepali filmmakers and media students, partnerships like these offer valuable resources, training, and international exposure. Yet while framed as cultural exchange, they often serve as vehicles for circulating curated narratives, particularly on politically sensitive topics like Tibet.
The influence of the PHCRC was not limited to the curation of the Xizang Panorama. It is of serious concern that Dr. Xun Zhan, deputy director of the PHCRC and curator of the panorama, was on the jury. The very individual responsible for curating a film series widely understood as a vehicle of cultural erasure and Chinese state propaganda was also positioned to exercise evaluative authority over other films. The inclusion of Dr. Zhan on the jury creates an environment in which independent Tibetan films or any discourse critical of Beijing is implicitly, if not explicitly, sanctioned.
Festivals like KIMFF undeniably face complex funding pressures, but that does not remove the need for reflection and accountability. As Nepal’s political, economic, and cultural ties with China deepen, the institutional entanglements revealed by this partnership raise pressing questions about the autonomy of cultural platforms. Conditionality in funding is not new, nor is it unique to China—Western donors and governments have long influenced cultural and political discourse across the Global South. What is changing, however, is the geopolitical center of gravity. In a constrained funding landscape for cultural institutions like KIMFF, partnerships with Chinese entities may seem pragmatic. A recent Kantipur article noted the lack of domestic funding support from entities like the Film Development Board, the Ministry of Communications, and the Kathmandu Metropolitan City, creating a vacuum increasingly filled by foreign donors. When a cultural institution such as KIMFF is willing to make such a stark political decision in exchange for funding, it raises the question of whether this shift is not a departure but rather a continuation of a behaviour of appeasing donors. While PHCRC presents itself as a multilateral Belt and Road initiative, the narratives advanced in the Xizang Panorama reflect the strategic messaging of the Chinese state.
This is precisely how the Xizang Panorama came into being. According to sources close to the film festival, KIMFF and PHCRC signed a formal agreement to promote bilateral media cooperation and boost Chinese tourism in Nepal by showcasing films from the Chinese side of the Himalayas, that is, Tibet. PHCRC curated and edited the film series in panorama format, and KIMFF provided the platform. As was clear in the after-talk of the first screening on 29 May, the PHCRC is the body responsible for this series, with KIMFF providing a platform for the films to reach a broader audience.
Six films, one narrative
The films featured in the Xizang Panorama included Snow Leopards and Friends by Zhinong Xi, Life of Buda by Jian Lu, Where the Mighty Rivers Begin by Qin Qing, Youthful Xizang by Shiping Shen, Wild Wonders in Xizang by Dazhen, and Days and Nights in Xizang by Yiyan Lu. The panorama stitched together segments from the six films into one screening, with transitions that often felt abrupt and jarring, weaving between nature documentaries and films about Chinese development aid in Tibet. The films, largely narrated in English, are clearly being produced to promote internationally China’s narrative on Tibet, that Tibet is an integral part of China and thrives under Chinese governance. We have to ask who’s telling the stories, what’s being left out, and why? According to sources close to KIMFF, the panorama was curated and edited by the PHCRC, without editorial input by KIMFF. This seems to be confirmed by Ramyata Limbu’s absolving herself of responsibility when the audience member mentioned above asked how such propaganda films ended up in the festival.
Of the six films featured in the Xizang Panorama, most took a documentary form, blending glossy imagery with a clear ideological bent. The Life of Buda, the lone feature film and perhaps most obviously propagandistic, depicts a former “emancipated serf” haunted by flashbacks to feudal Tibet: grey-toned scenes of lords stealing grain, his pregnant mother laboring in the fields, his father murdered for resisting elite cruelty. In contrast, present-day Tibet gleams in color—modern, orderly, grateful. Feudalism is undeniably an oppressive social arrangement, and many people in Tibet inevitably experienced hardship under such social structures. However, the film constructs a simplistic and highly selective narrative that serves to justify China’s violent military occupation as what the description on KIMFF’s website calls a “peaceful liberation”. This portrayal glosses over the complexities of Tibet’s reality under Chinese rule, reducing its complex history to a black-and-white savior narrative. In Day and Night in Xizang, soaring strings accompany a quick-cut montage of highways, newly planted tree saplings, and Chinese aid workers near Everest. Narrative agency lies firmly with the Chinese individuals, cast as benevolent patrons, while a passive Tibet becomes a mere backdrop for Chinese intervention, modernization, and civilization.
Youthful Xizang painted a beautiful picture of how wonderful childhood is in Tibet under China. While it may be true that there are many opportunities for today’s young Tibetans in education and extracurricular activities, there is no mention of how many Tibetans feel aggrieved by China’s governing of their youth. The controversial boarding schools, for instance, which are said to limit the transmission of Tibetan language, traditions, and culture, are not included in this frame.
The nature films—Where the Mighty Rivers Begin, Snow Leopards and Friends, and Wild Wonders in Xizang—offer sweeping shots of yaks, deer, vultures, and snowy mountains, portraying Tibet as pure landscape, devoid of people. But Tibet is, of course, not just a landscape — it’s a people, a culture, and a struggle. As with settler narratives in the 19th century in both Australia and South Africa, Tibet’s portrayal as an untouched wilderness enables a troubling erasure of its people. Even Wild Wonders, made by the only Tibetan filmmaker in the team of directors and producers behind the Xizang Panorama, focuses on environmentalism, which privileges Han Chinese characters and narratives over their Tibetan counterparts. A Chinese environmentalist stands in front of a bright classroom of Tibetan school children as she teaches them about the importance of ecological conservation. The narrator states that more local people are spending time in nature and are even bird-watching, with the implication that this is due to Chinese intervention and environmentalism. I was troubled by the lack of attention to Tibetan narratives. A sincere effort to explore Tibetan narratives around wildlife, mythology, and ecological stewardship would have offered a more meaningful engagement with the region and its people. It is documented that Tibetan environmentalists under Chinese rule face serious repercussions, especially when they criticize state projects like dam construction or illegal poaching.
Caught between pressure and principle
I left the Xizang Panorama screening on 29 May feeling disturbed and disheartened. Audiences may accept the films’ messages at face value rather than engage in critical reflection. Film festivals are not neutral; they wield significant influence in the shaping of public discourse. This year’s festival boasts the theme “Fractured Voices, Reclaiming Narratives.” However, the inclusion of the Xizang Panorama, featuring films about Tibet made in the great majority by Chinese directors, is ostensibly at odds with this goal. The use of “Xizang” instead of “Tibet” tacitly endorses the Chinese state’s narrative, effectively eroding space for Tibetan self-representation.
Based on a conversation I had with the director of KIMFF on 29 May, it seemed that further collaboration with PHCRC may be in the cards. This could include special workshops for Nepali filmmakers and further collaboration between Chinese and Nepalese media. However, a later conversation with sources close to KIMFF clarified that the events around the second screening of the Xizang Panorama have seriously tarnished the relationship between the film festival and PHCRC. In particular, PHCRC understood KIMFF’s withdrawal from the second screening as a breach of their initial agreement and contract. The atmosphere had shifted from one of collaboration between these two institutions to an antagonistic one, in large part activated by public backlash towards the film festival. Due to these circumstances, fueled by public pressures, it seems unlikely that KIMFF and PHCRC will collaborate again.
Despite repeated calls for an apology to the Tibetan community and a public statement explaining their actions, KIMFF has not produced anything and has yet to respond or articulate its stance. Based on a conversation with someone close to KIMFF, it is clear that though there was an initial discussion within the film festival team around formulating a public statement, the organization was unsure of how to proceed. Caught between public backlash and pressure from the Chinese embassy and PHCRC, KIMFF has thus far opted for a policy of silence.
This story is two-fold. On one hand, it reveals how a film festival can become a site of geopolitical contestation—a platform where dominant state narratives are imposed and the voices of marginalized communities, like Tibetans, are silenced. At the same time, it reflects the broader realities of a cultural sector in Nepal marked by chronic funding precarity, where institutions like KIMFF are under increasing pressure to secure support wherever they can. As global power dynamics shift, more organizations are turning to Chinese partners who offer much-needed resources, but often with strings attached. What’s happening here goes beyond one festival. It raises deeper concerns about the importance of safeguarding the sovereignty and independence of cultural institutions, no matter who the donor is. When funding interests, from China, the West, or elsewhere, start shaping cultural narratives, the threat isn’t just censorship. It’s the slow erosion of Nepal’s already fragile, plural, and contested public sphere. KIMFF now finds itself in a bind: caught between public backlash from artists, audiences, and diaspora communities on one side, and pressure from a powerful donor/curatorial partner and the Chinese embassy on the other. The result has been an uneasy quiet. Though the festival presents itself as a space for “fractured voices” and “reclaiming narratives,” it has platformed state propaganda while erasing dissenting voices. At stake is not only Tibetan representation, but the very ability of Nepali institutions to hold space for contested histories and diverse political perspectives.
But on the other hand, this moment also reveals the potential for cultural resistance. The cancellation of the second screening at Taragaon Museum due to the public backlash, the internal tensions between PHCRC and KIMFF, and the quiet scrambling behind the scenes at KIMFF show that public outcry matters. Tibetan diaspora organizations, along with academics, artists, curators, and audiences in Nepal, many of whom spoke out online, were not passive. They were alert, critical, and willing to challenge institutional silence. That resistance must be part of the narrative too: a refusal to let Tibet be erased without contest and a refusal for KIMFF or other cultural institutions in Nepal to be tools of state narratives. Only through such efforts can cultural spaces in Nepal and beyond fulfill their promise, rather than becoming echo chambers for soft power.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and may not necessarily reflect those of the publication
Acknowledgments: Many thanks go to several people who helped me think through, edit, and publish this piece, including Himali Dixit, Katia Buffetrille, Shiriin Barakzai, Ester Bianchi, Alexander von Rospatt, and Dr. Tsewang Jeshong.
