Jilong Town Becomes a No-Go Zone: Nepalese Rescue Team Challenges the CCP!

Jilong Town Becomes a No-Go Zone: Nepalese Rescue Team Challenges the CCP! (Video)

[People News] Greetings to our viewers, and welcome to "Forbidden News Analysis." I am Sun Ning.

On the morning of August 26, a sudden ice collapse and mudslide struck the China-Nepal border from the Nepalese side.

Within just a few minutes, a massive torrent filled with mud and boulders surged down, completely flattening the Jilong Port on the Tibetan border.

According to the latest disaster reports, the casualties in both China and Nepal are alarmingly high:

As of the morning of August 31, the Chinese authorities reported that the disaster has claimed 16 lives and left 546 people missing, including 261 foreign nationals from 23 different countries.

On the Nepalese side, the situation is even more dire.

Currently, official statistics from Nepal indicate that the death toll has reached 788, with over 2,500 individuals still unaccounted for.

In the face of such a catastrophic disaster, both China and Nepal have one urgent priority—every second counts in rescuing those who are still alive.

However, when the camera focuses on this valley consumed by the mudslide, we observe two starkly contrasting rescue operations.

On one side, there is a frantic effort to deploy helicopters, search and rescue teams, and equipment; on the other side, there is a swift clampdown on public discourse, sealing off the disaster area, and strictly preventing civilian rescue teams from entering.

The same disaster, the same valley.

Why is there such a significant disparity in the rescue efforts between China and Nepal?

Jilong Town Becomes a No-Go Zone

On August 29, three days after the disaster, the Public Security Bureau of Shigatse City, Tibet, issued an emergency notice announcing that all social vehicles intending to travel towards Jilong Town would be subject to remote diversion control, effectively prohibiting any vehicles from entering the direction of Jilong Town.

Simultaneously, the National Immigration Administration of the Communist Party of China had released another announcement on August 27, stating that starting from 00:00 on August 28, 2026, the issuance of electronic border management area passes for Shigatse City, Tibet, would be completely suspended!

So, what exactly is an electronic border management area pass? This is a digital pass created by the immigration management department of the Communist Party of China for Chinese citizens traveling to border regions like Tibet and Xinjiang. Ironically, a Chinese citizen moving within their own country, who wishes to visit relatives at the border, is required to apply for a 'visa'!

While the Communist Party typically uses this system to restrict ordinary citizens, now, as hundreds remain trapped under rubble and their families desperately seek to reach the front lines to find their loved ones, they simply cut off the pass issuance channel with a few clicks in the system's backend!

As one netizen furiously commented under a video: 'Once again, they use natural disasters as an excuse for blanket control, stripping away the freedom of movement of ordinary people without hesitation. Even obtaining a pass is burdened with layers of restrictions; they truly treat the border as their own prison.' Another netizen sharply pointed out: 'This is the Chinese characteristic: if it’s not visible, it didn’t happen.'

The absurdity of 'Chinese-style rescue.'

After the town of Jilong was effectively sealed off, creating a 'forbidden zone' inaccessible to vehicles and media, the stage was fully set. What followed was a grand performance that exemplified the distinctive characteristics of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), often referred to as the 'main melody drama'.

A rather comical rescue video from the disaster site has been circulating online, showcasing what is meant by 'Chinese-style rescue'.

Amidst the muddy and chaotic debris of the landslide, the most striking features were not the large excavators or life detection equipment, but the fluttering, vibrant red flags and party banners. The so-called rescue workers, clad in brand new uniforms, gathered in small groups around a few large stones. They were not sweating or covered in mud; instead, they gently 'turned over' bags left in the rubble or leisurely 'touched the stones' with their hands.

Surrounding them were photographers equipped with 'long guns and short cannons', capturing every 'heroic and solemn' expression of the officials. As netizens sarcastically noted, the entire rescue operation resembled a performance: 'flags waving, party banners fluttering, touching stones, turning over bags, eight camera angles, no blind spots...'

This is not about saving lives; it resembles filming a movie at Hengdian World Studios! During the critical post-disaster rescue period, when hundreds of lives were at stake, the CCP rescue personnel seemed more concerned with the tidiness of their uniforms and the visibility of the flags in the frame, rather than listening for faint sounds beneath the mud and debris. This kind of formalism, which treats disaster as a spectacle and turns funerals into celebrations, is the greatest insult to the deceased compatriots buried beneath the rubble.

What further reveals the hypocrisy of this system is a video shared online by another netizen who happened to capture it. On a road near the disaster zone, a netizen filmed the 'leadership convoy' heading for an inspection. To everyone's shock, the convoy consisted of over a dozen off-road vehicles, all of which were Toyota Land Cruisers.

This uniform fleet of imported rugged off-road vehicles formed a long line, gleaming in the sunlight. The comment section erupted with reactions from Chinese netizens, with some sarcastically asking, 'Didn’t they claim that domestic cars are far ahead? Why is it that at critical moments, the leaders don’t dare to ride in one?' Others pointed out astutely, 'The leaders are most aware of vehicle safety and reliability, especially in life-threatening areas like the plateau; following their choice of vehicle is definitely the right decision.'

This group of bureaucratic leaders, who constantly advocate for a 'boycott of Japanese goods' and indoctrinate the lower classes with extreme nationalism, when faced with the need to conduct inspections in Tibetan areas and ensure their own safety, are more honest than anyone else, insisting on riding in the Japanese-made Toyota Land Cruiser.

In stark contrast, we see Nepal's rescue efforts.

After witnessing the 'eight designated spots' arranged for privilege in China, let’s take a look at Nepal, just a river away, and see how this economically underdeveloped small country values life.

Nepal's rescue workers are not adorned with any 'red flags' or 'party flags', nor are they surrounded by high-end cameras. At the entrance of a small hydropower station tunnel, which is filled with mud and poses a risk of secondary landslides at any moment, members of Nepal's search and rescue team are immersed in mud up to their chests. They use their bodies as leverage, inching their way into the narrow, dark mud hole, gripping the clothing of trapped workers tightly with their hands, and forcibly dragging them from the brink of death.

In the video, the Nepalese rescue team members are completely covered in dirt, their faces smeared with yellow mud. They do not have grand slogans; instead, they exhibit a profound reverence for life.

In this same disaster, on one side are the Nepalese rescue workers, covered in mud and risking their lives to crawl into the mud holes; on the other side are the clean and tidy Chinese officials, fiddling with stones at eight different camera positions. This stark visual and spiritual contrast would leave any conscientious person feeling utterly ashamed.

China and Nepal not only differ vastly in their attitudes towards rescue efforts, but the disparity in their actual investment of rescue resources is also astonishing.

According to reports from international media, after the mudslide disaster that affected both countries, China, as the world's second-largest economy, deployed only four helicopters for aerial search and rescue and material delivery in the Jilong disaster area. In contrast, Nepal, whose total economic output is far less than that of a single Chinese prefecture-level city and whose infrastructure is extremely underdeveloped, mobilized the entire nation after the disaster struck, immediately sending 15 helicopters to the disaster front lines to continuously search for survivors and transport the injured.

Isn't this a world-class joke? The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) often boasts about its advanced military helicopters and large transport aircraft, claiming that its emergency rescue capabilities are unmatched. Yet, when a mudslide devastated its own border port, leaving over 500 compatriots and border defense personnel trapped under the rubble, they could only deploy 4 helicopters for rescue.

Where have the other helicopters gone? Are they merely for show, painted and displayed during military parades, used to intimidate the public, but not to save the lives of their own citizens? A small nation knows to mobilize all its resources and send 15 helicopters for rescue, while a major power focuses on blocking roads and controlling public opinion. This attitude towards human life is truly disheartening.

The stark contrast in information disclosure

Beyond the differences in on-site rescue efforts, the ways in which China and Nepal handle information disclosure in the face of natural disasters reveal two entirely different governing philosophies.

Following the disaster, Nepal's information transparency was remarkable. The Ministry of Home Affairs and major media outlets in Nepal provided updates on casualty figures, lists of missing persons, and specific coordinates of affected areas every few hours. They disclosed which villages were destroyed, which hydropower stations were flooded, and which roads were impassable, making all this information available to the public. More importantly, the Nepalese government adopted an open and welcoming stance towards foreign journalists, allowing them to conduct on-site interviews in the core disaster zones. This enabled major international media to capture the devastation without obstruction, showcasing the true scale of the disaster to the world. Nepal's proactive approach quickly won sympathy from the international community, leading to a significant influx of relief supplies.

In contrast, the Chinese government took a familiar approach of 'sealing off' information and maintaining stability in public opinion. The press conference in Shigatse was conducted at a slow pace, with casualty figures presented in vague terms, while the actual conditions in the core disaster area were tightly controlled.

As for foreign journalists wishing to enter the disaster zone? They have no chance! They can't even secure permission to enter Tibet. Not only are foreign journalists barred, but domestic investigative reporters and even ordinary social media users face expulsion or detention by public security authorities under the pretext of 'violating traffic control' or 'spying on border secrets' if they attempt to approach the Gyirong area.

As many independent scholars have pointed out, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) views natural disasters not merely as calamities but primarily as political crises and tests of their ability to maintain stability. If the public is exposed to the true extent of the devastation, sees poorly constructed buildings, and witnesses delays in rescue operations, it could shake the legitimacy of the CCP's rule. Thus, their fundamental approach has always been: if they cannot resolve the disaster, they will silence those who report on it.

As a result, we witness an incredibly absurd scene: just a river apart, the news from Nepal floods the media, with disaster victims weeping on camera and rescue teams visibly sweating, all under the sunlight. In stark contrast, on the Chinese side, behind the towering national gate, there is an eerie silence, punctuated only by a few beautifully staged 'press release photos' featuring red flags, and a multitude of social media accounts that are swiftly deactivated, along with missing person notices that vanish in an instant.

The CCP system is irreparably broken.

From the total lockdown of Jilong Town to the absurdity of 'eight camera positions' staged at the scene; from the grim comparison of four helicopters against fifteen, to the stringent control over information disclosure, the landslide at Jilong port has acted like a sharp scalpel, slicing away the most fundamental and decayed aspects of the CCP system and revealing them to all.

During the entire rescue operation, from top to bottom, no one was willing to genuinely take action, bend down, or risk their lives to save others from the mud pit. The leaders were more concerned about how to make the shiny Toyota Land Cruiser look more imposing on camera; the publicity department focused on whether the eight camera angles could capture the red flag and the party flag waving more prominently; and the internet management department worried about whether they could completely erase the scandal involving the family members' self-explosion within seconds.

Everyone was merely performing, waiting for the intensity of this disaster to fade, so they could hold a grand 'summary and commendation conference' in a large auditorium in Beijing or Lhasa. Then, the leaders on stage would continue to issue directives, while the actors in the audience would line up to receive their 'first-class merit' and 'second-class merit', happily counting the substantial bonuses distributed from above.

This is the chilling and despairing truth behind the Jilong mudslide.

That concludes today’s content. If you enjoyed our program, please like, subscribe, and turn on the notification bell. If you have any thoughts on the post-disaster rescue at the Jilong port, feel free to leave a comment in the comment section. We’ll see you in the next episode!

(‘Forbidden News Decoded’)
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