China’s Horseback Heroine: Death Reveals Dark Side of Propaganda

Chinese authorities face mounting questions after a young herder who was heavily promoted in state propaganda fell to her death in unexplained circumstances. The incident has ignited renewed criticism of Beijing’s efforts to elevate model citizens for political purposes.

Munzul, a 19-year-old ethnic Mongolian woman from Inner Mongolia, became known nationwide as “Eagle Girl” after state media extensively featured her as an exemplar of China’s ethnic minority policies. Videos showing her riding horseback across grasslands with a golden eagle perched on her arm captivated millions of viewers and earned her celebrity status.

State outlets portrayed her as embodying President Xi Jinping’s vision for ethnic unity, presenting her story as evidence of harmonious relations between Mongolian minorities and Han Chinese. Her public image stood in stark contrast to the government’s controversial policies in the region, which have included restrictions on Mongolian language education.

Last week, Munzul died after reportedly falling from a 21-story building in Ordos City. Local police issued a brief statement claiming the death was a suicide, but provided few details. The sparse official explanation has fueled widespread skepticism on Chinese social media platforms.

“They build these young people up, use them for propaganda, then abandon them,” wrote one user on Weibo before the comment was deleted by censors. Another questioned: “If she was so happy and successful, why would she take her own life? What aren’t they telling us?”

The incident has exposed the human cost of China’s propaganda machine, which regularly identifies and promotes individuals whose lives appear to validate government policies. These “model citizens” often find themselves under intense pressure to maintain perfect public personas while navigating newfound fame.

Munzul’s rise to prominence came during a period of particular tension in Inner Mongolia. In 2020, the government implemented educational reforms reducing Mongolian-language instruction in schools, sparking rare public protests. Her carefully curated image as a successful and content minority youth served as a counternarrative to reports of ethnic discontent.

“The state creates these characters and expects real people to live up to impossible standards,” said Dr. Mei Zhang, an expert on Chinese media at the University of California. “They become symbols rather than individuals, which creates immense psychological pressure.”

Former propaganda subjects have occasionally spoken about the challenges they faced. In 2018, a farmer who had been celebrated as a model agricultural worker revealed in an unauthorized interview that officials had coached him on what to say and threatened repercussions if he deviated from the script.

The Communist Party has employed model citizen narratives since its earliest days, with perhaps the most famous being Lei Feng, a soldier whose supposed diary of selfless acts became mandatory reading for generations of Chinese schoolchildren. Modern propaganda has evolved to leverage social media, with figures like Munzul presented in visually striking ways designed to resonate with younger audiences.

In response to questions about Munzul’s death, Foreign Ministry spokesperson Wang Wenbin said only that “relevant departments are handling the matter according to law” and declined to provide additional information.

Meanwhile, posts about Munzul on Chinese social platforms have been heavily censored, with search results limited primarily to state-approved news stories about her earlier achievements rather than discussions of her death.

Human rights organizations have expressed concern about the broader situation in Inner Mongolia. “This tragic case highlights the gap between propaganda narratives and reality for ethnic minorities in China,” said Alison Reynolds of the International Tibet Network. “Behind these curated images are real people facing real pressures.”

The incident raises uncomfortable questions for Chinese authorities about the ethics of transforming ordinary citizens into propaganda symbols, particularly when those individuals are young or from minority communities that already face significant social and political pressures.

As censors continue working to control the narrative around Munzul’s death, her story has become a poignant reminder of the human beings behind political messaging, and the often unseen consequences when real lives become entangled with state propaganda.