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~This
Issue's Index~
Cultivating
Qi and Body Politic
By
Nancy N Chen
"2-year-old
boy is castrated
Believing in the Falungong Doomsday prophecy, Tang
Zhihua, a Sichuan farmer, went out of his mind and
castrated his 2-year-old son. The boy's cries alerted
his neighbors and Tang later attempted suicide. According
to his father, Tang began to practice Falungong four
years ago when he met his wife and continued practicing
even when she ran away from home two months ago. Father
and son are both receiving treatment in a hospital."
Beijing
Youth Daily, September 3, 1999, p3a
The arresting story in the
article above is one of many dramatic narratives released
by the Chinese state media in the wake of the July 1999
crackdown on Falungong organizers and practitioners.
In different circumstances, such sensationalist news
would be seen in Western tabloids. However, the release
of such stories was not intended to increase circulation,
but to disclose serious evidence of the social turmoil
attributed to the practice of Falungong.
On April
26, 1999, Falungong made headlines in the international
press when an estimated 10,000 members of the Falun
Dafa organization staged a silent protest outside Zhongnanhai,
the official state residency compound of the People's
Republic of China (PRC). Founded by Li Hongzhi and based
on an amalgamation of Buddhist meditation, Taoist cultivation,
and qigong exercises, the organization claimed to have
millions of followers worldwide and maintained a visible
presence in most major cities. The timing of the event,
on a Sunday in spring and just before the anniveraries
of major events in 20th-century China (the May 4th Movement
of 1919, the Tiananmen Protests of 1989, and especially
the founding of People's Republic of China of 1949),
reached a foreign press primed for stories. The spatial
dimensions of the gathering also made clear the intentions
of the group and the significance of its public act.
The location and size of the gathering in front of the
official residence of state leaders took many, including
the military guards, by surprise. Eyewitness and media
accounts indicated that the thousands of mostly middle-age
protesters lined up silently in orderly rows, with designated
appointees prepared to speak with onlookers or reporters.
Without the usual signs, banners, and slogan chants,
even public security officers were hesitant to move
against the crowd, which easily outnumbered them. Li
Hongzhi, who now resides in the United States, claimed
to have had nothing to do with the protest in Beijing.
However, that day his organization and the protesters
demanded a meeting with Premier Zhu Rongji and a retraction
of an article published in the Tianjin Youth Science
and Technology Journal that warned about the dangers
of cults.
A similar
protest on a far smaller scale had taken place in July
1998, when several dozen Falun Dafa followers protested
in front of the Beijing Television Station after the
airing of a TV program warning the public the dangers
of inappropriate qigong practice, especially Falungong.
But this spring's protest, with thousands more demonstrators
before a key site, and during a sensitive time for socialist
leaders before the foreign press, generated far more
visibility than perhaps the organizers had envisioned.
Since the
1990s, ethnographers have categorized groups of qigong
practioners' in urban parks as psychiatric units of
qigong deviation; the government's crackdown brought
an eerie sense of déjà vu. At the beginning
of the decade, the Chinese state carried out a concerted,
widely-publicized crackdown on qigong masters charged
with spreading mixin (superstition) and pseudoscience
with "false" qigong practices. The rapidly
rising popular masters, many of whom practiced lucratively
and without license, were viewed as unruly and threatening
to Falungong practitioners and their family members.
Immense efforts were directed towards the secularization
and medicalization of qigong such that only recognized
masters with state licenses could continue to practice
and to heal. In the eyes of the state, any challenge
to the state's order and stability required mobilization
of the state apparatus. The qigong and Falungong movements
appeared to be especially threatening because their
followers included state workers such cadres, scientists,
and military leaders in addition to ordinary citizens.
Though spokespersons for the Falungong organization
claimed to be practicing not qigong but the Spinning
Wheel of Law (referred to as Falun) in meditation exercises,
the emphasis on qi cultivation as a basis for healing
and the social phenomena of the practices were the same.
Qi
Cultivation and Social Movements
The emergence of Falungong
and its eventual crackdown have resonated with the state
suppression of sectarian organizations in China's past.
Most Western media were quick to compare Falun followers
to past resistance movements such as the White Lotus
rebels, Yellow Turbans, and the Boxers. Key common elements
such as the presence of a charismatic leader, effervescent
transmission of knowledge via devotees, and mental and
physical exercises based on qi were noted in all of
those groups.
Indeed, there
are many elements or preconditions common to the various
charismatic sects or millenarian organizations which
have spread and gained popularity. Deeper analysis will
show, however, that the conclusion that these groups
are essentially different variations of the same set
of movements based on qi is too simplistic. Rather,
several interventions in the late twentieth century
illuminate the distinctions of the Falun group from
previous sectarian organizations.
In his analysis
of millenarian movements such as the ghost dance, a
revival of Native American unity in the mid 19th century,
Anthony F.C. Wallace noted that charismatic leaders
are often at the core of such social movements. The
initial conversion or origin of a leader's transformation
will often be mythologized and used as a catalyst for
the group's progression from a small band of believers
to a regional or even national organization with hierarchies
of status and power. While the presence, or even the
mere projection of a leader, has been viewed as the
most crucial element of sectarian politics, the social
conditions leading to the emergence and appeal of a
particular leader can offer more insight into the nature
of such groups. As historians of China such as Susan
Naquin, Joseph Esherick, and Paul Cohen have shown,
examining the local conditions that lead to the rise
and fall of particular groups illuminate further how
certain personages and their messages traveled within
networks of belief and obligation. The larger social
body and communal setting of sectarian groups offer
compelling, sometimes even coercive, situations when
an individual can lose himself or herself in the larger
entity. Similar social experiences of crowd mentality
can be seen in evangelical faith healing, rock concerts,
and qigong performances. In all of these groups, past
and present, the often-eclectic transformation from
local group to larger regional alliances is initially
based on transformational experiences that facilitate
the conversion process necessary for individuals to
align themselves with the larger organization. Techniques
such as deep breathing, guided imagery, sleight of hand
performances, and group healing sessions all further
convince individuals to join. It is important to emphasize
how compelling cultivation exercises of qi can be for
both individual and group practices. Ordinary practitioners
in the contemporary period not only claim to feel healed
and energetic after qigong, but also feel empowered
to take charge of their daily lives in distinctly new
ways.
What further
distinguishes millenarian movements from other spiritual
organizations with charismatic leaders was the persistent
belief that the existing world order is troubled, corrupt,
and doomed to end, and that only through avid participation
in a social movement with political action, or maybe
even acts of violence and outright warfare, can one
be saved from eventual destruction. For several centuries,
China has seen the emergence of numerous millenarian
movements that have threatened the legitimacy of existing
rule and social stability. "Millenarian" is
actually a persistent misnomer that implies occurrences
only at the end of each millennium. Instead, such movements
occur whenever there is a shift in worldview, catalyzed
by persuasive leaders and their helpers who convert
others to their cause. The continued existence of millenarian
groups reflects persistent feelings of exclusion and
disengagement with the existing social and political
order, and the inclination to forge ties of solidarity
and hierarchies that are almost familial.
When millenarian
movements develop into political entities and amass
great resources, often in the forms of human labor,
money, and social capital, it is not unusual that challenges
to existing political rule eventually lead to struggles
for representation and eventual survival. Sect leaders
denounce the corruption of regimes while espousing their
own hierarchical utopia as an alternative. It is not
hard to see the similarities in the relationship between
sect organizations and responses of the Chinese body
politic in various periods. The Chinese government in
imperial and contemporary periods has inevitably responded
with full crackdowns-usually death for the leaders and
re-education for the followers. What follows is an analysis
of some of the key differences that sectarian movements
present in the late twentieth century.
Most of the
pre- and early-20th century rebellions have been rural-based,
with peasants as the primary participants. The Boxers
and White Lotus rebels, among others, were overwhelmingly
young and male, with few female participants. In contrast,
the majority of qigong practitioners, including Falun
Gong, tend to be urban-based with more or less equal
distribution among male and female practitioners at
the entry level. Most qigong and Falungong devotees
in China are notably older, consisting of retired workers,
intellectuals, and cadres- far from being outsiders,
these are people fully entrenched in the socialist system.
As the modes of transmission in contemporary moments
have shifted from the vernacular and visual to include
more textual sources such as autobiographical novels,
how-to manuals, and the Internet, potential members
have shifted to include more literate, educated, and
elite audiences that also include cadres and scientists
who, as individuals, also have experienced the chaos
of living in the 1990s. Finally, the more cosmopolitan
travel of masters, via circuits of greater China and
diaspora communities, means that the political arena
of containment at home has been entirely transformed.
Using foreign press coverage as an intervention in the
Chinese mainland has meant that the state also needs
to respond at a broader and more unified level.
Contestation
and the Politics of Pathology
The events that followed
the protest bring to mind historic responses of various
governments to rebellions in China. Specifically the
patterns of denouncement, containment, and ultimately
punishment echo similar actions taken at the beginning
of the decade as in other periods. There was a time
delay of several weeks before any official actions were
undertaken. Then on July 22, 1999, over 70 key figures
of the Falun movement in China were detained for questioning
while bans on Falun and other heterodox qigong practices
quickly followed. In the weeks afterward, a highly visible
and orchestrated crackdown intensified. A government-produced
documentary on the false practices of Falun was aired
on television several times. All books, posters, and
audiotapes were ordered to be destroyed, and neighborhood
committees, work units, and other social units were
brought to collect the materials. A leading scientist,
He Zuoxiu, spoke out vehemently against the group, denouncing
it as a cult and anti-science. Meanwhile, more Falun
practitioners showed up to protest the detainment of
their leaders, but were swiftly rounded up. International
media portrayed the tearful removal of mostly middle-aged
women and the elderly. Despite rough handling by the
police and soldiers, the demonstrators performed acts
such as cleaning up or offering water to their captors.
Such images are strikingly similar to the coverage of
student demonstrators a decade ago. It appeared that
the foreign press and Falun protestors were equally
eager to perform or demonstrate similarities between
the protests of 1989 and 1999. As the government further
tightened the reins of control, a request for the extradition
of Li Hongzi was sent to Interpol. Though ultimately
denied, a battle to present the truth to Chinese and
international audiences is being waged on the Internet.
Like the
role of faxes and international radio broadcasts during
the unrest of 1989, in 1999 the Internet proved to be
a difficult information channel for the PRC to contain.
Despite the denials by Falun leaders, the numerous websites
with names and telephone numbers of local practitioners
in cities across the U.S., Canada, Australia, and Europe
belie the extensive structure and organizational form.
Regular "experience sharing" conferences were
announced in addition to proclamations of Li Hongzhi
Day in cities such as Chicago and San Francisco. When
the PRC government announced its own ban, several Falun
websites quickly posted alleged eyewitness accounts
from practitioners. Letters of protest flooded the site.
Even Li Hongzhi posted a letter as his public response
to the Chinese government's calls to extradite him back
to China. Within a few days, all Falun-related websites
operating from Mainland China were shut down, while
various official government news sources went online
with new accounts about the false and superstitious
practices that Falun represented. Internet access for
users in China became restricted as many servers were
shut down. The two-month, anti-Falun campaign followed
a familiar path of declaring the rebellion heterodox
and establishing legitimacy with strict countermeasures.
Despite numerous retractions by Li Hongzhi, including
his claim that he is no deity, but an "ordinary
man," the line had already been crossed. When over
10,000 followers placed themselves in front of Zhongnanhai
and an Internet campaign provoked further anger, the
leadership was compelled to contain the newly politicized
members and their proselytized message of self-healing.
As a medical
anthropologist, I am fascinated with the recent use
of illness narratives, such as the opener example, as
part of state discourses on social disorder and the
necessity for containment. In his extensive contributions
to this field on the somatization of distress, Professor
Arthur Kleinman noted that patient narratives reflected
critical processes of meditation in illness or disease,
especially in the embodiment of pain. His study of neurasthenia
and depression in China highlighted the social and political
content of illness narratives. The emergence of Qigong
Deviation in the early 1990s provided a key moment or
window of opportunity for the state to regulate certain
group practices and the popularity of specific masters
that were challenging state authority. In the aftermath
of the crackdown, narratives of pathology related to
the practice of Falungong circulated widely in state
media. The repetition and mimetic excess of descriptions
were deemed necessary to relay the state concern for
the welfare of its citizens and the maintenance of social
order.
The continued
appeal of qigong and new spiritual practices reveals
how powerful and pervasive Chinese traditions of healing
and inner body cultivation can be. Ironically, cultivation
through qi exercises and meditation either by oneself
or in groups provides the very foundations for forging
notions of identity that can transcend socialist formations
of hukou (residence) or danwei (work unit), which are
fundamental units of the Chinese state. Yet, even with
unruly masters and the potential for subversive actions,
the Chinese body politic continues to promote qigong
as an efficient healing practice primarily because it
is uniquely Chinese and promotes an important element
of state identity. As one state bureaucrat remarked,
"Qigong is a treasure house of China and we need
to protect it from unsavory characters who use it to
sell themselves. All the Japanese and westerners come
here to learn about qigong because they can't find anything
comparable to heal themselves." The politics of
healing is thus also the politics of the nation.
~This
Issue's Index~
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