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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~
 
  Last modified Summer 2002 by Samuel Lipoff