Imperial Fantasies: The Chinese Communists and Peasant Rebellions

Imperial Fantasies: The Chinese
Communists and Peasant Rebellions*

DAVID OWNBY
Université de Montréal
The spectacular confrontation between the Chinese government and the Falun-
gong spiritual movement has focused attention on the very visible conflict be-
tween state and religion in China’s urban areas. Conflict and violence have also
accompanied the explosion of popular religious activities in the rural areas of
post-Mao China, where much of the conflict is subdued and largely invisible to
the outside observer. Christians are denied the permits necessary to make
“home worship” legal; popular religious temples are confiscated and occupied
by authorities hungry for physical and cultural space; proselytizers seeking to
spread the Word or the Way are run out of town on a rail. Other examples, how-
ever, are much more spectacular, and recall the mobilizing force enjoyed by cer-
tain religious groups in imperial times. Wu Yangming was arrested in 1995 for
having founded the “Anointed King Sect” in eastern Anhui, which was to “unite
the country” in its spirit (Maclean’s 1996). The “Lightening from the East” sect
preached the second coming of Christ as a woman, and prophesied the end of
the world according to a mixture of folk Buddhist and Christian soteriological
motifs (China Study Journal 1997). In the context of the group studied in this
essay, the Way of the Temple of the Heavenly Immortals, a sect leader sum-
moned village cadres to a Temple festival in 1985 and delivered—in trance—
a message to village cadres:
“Chairman Mao destroyed our Temple and put me in jail for thirty years. Now I will put
him under a stone tablet. . . . A small uprising [occurs] every thirty years; a great catas-
trophe every sixty. The time has almost come. Most . . . will die, but . . . the Master [i.e.,
a Temple deity] . . . will . . . save [the people of the] dusty world.” (Yichuan 1991)
As these examples suggest, much of the conflict provoked by the rapid increase
in popular religious activities is between religious groups and the state, al-
though conflicts between popular religious organizations are apparently com-
mon as well. A sophisticated scholarly analysis examines the discourse em-
ployed by Communist authorities to justify their intervention, which, of course,
often sparks the conflict. Stephan Feuchtwang illustrates that despite the ex-
* In addition to the editors and the anonymous readers of Comparative Studies in Society and His-
tory, I would like to thank Timothy Cheek, Kenneth Dean, and Michael Szonyi for their valuable
comments on previous drafts of this essay.
0010-4175/01/65–91 $9.50 © 2001 Society for Comparative Study of Society and History
65
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66 david ownby
panded protection accorded to the “five great religions” by the 1982 constitu-
tion, popular religion remains a separate, leftover category, often equated with
“feudal superstition” (Feuchtwang 1989:67; see also Feuchtwang 1992). Wang
Ming-Ming shows how the “scholarly” analysis of Chinese folklorists and an-
thropologists helps to consolidate the political thrust of Communist pro-
nouncements on religious policy (Feuchtwang and Wang 1991). Ann Anagnost
argues that the label “feudal superstition” has become, ironically, a useful dis-
cursive tool for Communist authorities in the post-Mao era, as it enables them
to single out such “traditional” practices to be “modernized” (by their extinction),
one of the few remaining avenues of legitimation for a party which has surren-
dered many ideological claims (Anagnost 1994; see also Anagnost 1985, 1987).
It has proven more difficult to come to terms with the discourse on the oth-
er side of the equation, that is, of popular religious groups engaged in conflict
with the state. One reason for this difficulty is that while state discourse is fair-
ly unified at any given moment, popular religious discourse is not. Indeed, re-
cent research in the field of Chinese popular religion emphasizes the local, par-
ticular character of most groups, stressing their primary embeddedness in
regional cultures and structures of power rather than their secondary engage-
ment with the state (see for example Szonyi 1997 as a commentary on Watson
1985). Moreover, supravillage traditions such as the White Lotus, which we
once believed to be fairly unitary and oriented toward dissent, turn out to be
multiform and, often, peace-loving (for English-language sources, see, among
others, Naquin 1976, 1982, 1985; Overmyer 1976, 1984, 1985, 1999; ter Haar
1992). One can analyze specific expressions of the rebel-religious discourse
through examination of the record of state suppression of particular groups, but
such evidence, if highly suggestive, is also biased. At the investigative level,
military and police authorities seek to solve cases and unravel networks, not to
situate discourses (even if they apply the state discourse in the course of their
investigation). The questions they ask during investigations are often quite nar-
row, and their use of written materials generated by religious groups highlights
the “heterodox” and discounts the “orthodox” aspects of these writings. In oth-
er words, the state record distorts the broader context in which the groups and
their writings are embedded. And, as a practical consideration, even this sort of
problematic evidence is much less available to Western scholars for the twen-
tieth century than for the Qing period.
This essay seeks to contribute to the ongoing discussion of these questions
through an examination of a Henan religious tradition, the Way of the Temple
of the Heavenly Immortals (hereafter, Temple, for short). This tradition spans
the modern and contemporary periods, having been founded in the 1840s and
surviving to the present day. Moreover, despite its roots in charismatic healing,
the Temple has engaged in numerous violent rebellions against the Nationalist
(Kuomintang, KMT) government and the Communists (CCP), both before and
after the 1949 revolution. In addition, the Temple possesses its own written tra-
the chinese communists and peasant rebellions 67
dition, and a Chinese colleague and I were given a copy of these texts, most of
which were recopied from Republican-period documents, on the occasion of a
field trip to Temple sites in the Henan countryside in 1994 (the most important
of these are translated in Scriptures 1996). Finally, by sheer good fortune, I also
have records of the suppression of Temple activities by Communist authorities
in the late 1940s and early 1950s, including interrogations and depositions of
Temple leaders.1
Thus this case is one of the rare instances where we possess both textual ma-
terial generated by the group in question and the written record of the authori-
ties’ prosecution of the case. Careful juxtaposition of these two representations
allows us both to check the authorities’representation of the Temple against that
found in Temple texts, and to interrogate the Temple self-representation against
the authorities’ condemnation of their activities. I will attempt to demonstrate
that while the Communist representation of the Temple is not a wholesale dis-
tortion of Temple beliefs and practices as seen through Temple texts, it is clear-
ly a very partial representation, one which simply dismisses entire realms of
Temple “discourse” in favor of a caricature of the peasant political imagination
as grounded in imperial restoration. From the opposite angle, an examination
of Temple self-representation as revealed in Temple texts suggests a different
cultural construction of the “political,” one based both on “orthodox” morality
and charismatic, paranormal power (possessed by Temple leaders), both of
which are linked to an imminent apocalypse, which will rearrange power in
ways that are not altogether clear. The emperor appears, if infrequently, in Tem-
ple texts; he is taken for granted as a symbol of power but is not central to Tem-
ple yearnings. Indeed, the greatest error committed in the Communist interpre-
tation is the imputation to Temple beliefs of a teleological quality requiring the
return of the emperor. Temple texts are anything but seamless, and describe re-
ligious orientations flexible enough to persist in the face of any elite political
vision built on cultural categories not shared by Temple members. The texts are
by no means innocent, but their political expression may take on forms other
than those identified by the critique of Communist authorities.
overview of temple history 2

The origins of the Temple may be traced to Gong county, Western Henan, and
the visions of a Yellow River boatman named Liu Tingfang. Liu proclaimed in
1844 that he had been possessed by the spirit of Jiang Ziya, the hero-general
sent down from heaven to assist the founder of the Zhou dynasty in his battles
against the corrupt Shang rulers, as depicted in the popular Ming novel Enfe-
offment of the Gods. At present, no documentation allows us to explore Liu’s
vision further; indeed, we do not even know what became of Liu himself. Most
sources claim that he was put to death by the Qing in 1849 for activities relat-
ed to his vision. However, these sources claim that Liu was burned to death
(which was not a Qing punishment), and Liu is not mentioned in the published
68 david ownby
archival materials that I have examined. Oral sources note that Liu went on to
become an official. Temple texts themselves suggest that Liu did not succeed
in spreading his ideas, despite the importance of his vision (see Scriptures
1996:15–8).
The Temple only began to take form as a viable organized religion under
Zhang Mingyuan, the son of one of Liu Tingfang’s few original disciples, who
led the Temple between 1875 and 1908. Zhang recruited sixty-four “backbone”
disciples, and, as recruitment continued, established generation names so as to
more clearly identify master-disciple relations, a familiar practice in Chinese
popular religion. Although the Temple split into “Old” and “New” branches fol-
lowing Zhang Mingyuan’s death in 1908, the split was not an obstacle to Tem-
ple expansion, which reached its height during the Republican period.3 Under
New Temple leader Zhu Jin’gang, the Temple, much like the Red Spears, came
to offer the prospect of communal organization and perhaps physical protec-
tion, as well as spiritual solace, to Henan villagers besieged by the insidious
combination of warlordism and “state involution” (see Duara 1988: ch. 3).
Membership expanded rapidly, to the point that there were some twenty “gen-
erations” (i.e., links in the chain of transmission) of New Temple members
within only a few years of its establishment. This membership was spread
throughout much of central and southern Henan, extending even into northern
Hubei, although the core of the movement remained in the Luoyang region of
Henan. By the late 1940s, according to some estimates, the combined mem-
bership of both Old and New Temples approached forty-five thousand. Long
before this point, however, Zhu and his assistants had already established a
more complex organizational structure to complement the basic identification
of members by generation. Temple “congregations,” known as “counters” [gui]
or “schools” [xue—a designation shared with the Red Spears], were staffed by
mediums adept at calling down spirits and effecting exorcistic cures. Initiation
of new members required that they be “baptized” by the expulsion of cold wa-
ter from the mouth of a Temple medium. New members were expected to pay
entry fees, and to bring ritual items and incense money to worship the Master
at his home on New Year’s and on festival days.
Temple religion is a variation on the familiar complex of North Chinese sec-
tarian traditions. Its core appeal was a claim to possess the power to heal the
sick, particularly those suffering from xiebing—illness believed to have been
caused by immoral behavior which called forth the intervention of evil spirits.
Temple leaders, worshipped as gods even before their deaths, possessed this
power themselves; other Temple cadres called down spirits who enabled them
to accomplish their cures. Religious activities reached a peak during Temple
festivals, held on the occasion of the birthdays of important Temple figures, but
were not confined to festival days.
The Temple’s base in charismatic exorcism was complemented by the cre-
ation of a body of scripture. Zhang Mingyuan himself is credited with creating
some of the basic written doctrines and regulations of the faith (“The Basis of
the Way of Men,” “The Basis of the Way of Women,” “The Twenty-Eight Pro-
hibitions”—scriptures which continue to circulate among Temple members at
the end of the twentieth century [see Scriptures 1996]). Early in his career as
New Temple leader, Zhu Jin’gang recruited Zhang Baotong, who was literate,
and contributed greatly to the enlargement of the written paraphernalia associ-
ated with the Temple, although the authorship of individual documents in our
possession remains completely unknown. These documents, more of which
continued to be written at least through the Republican period, celebrate village
morality, the paranormal powers of Temple leaders, and offer the Temple as a
vehicle for the salvation of all believers in the face of a coming apocalypse.
Temple scriptures, written in the general style of baojuan (see Overmyer 1999
for a description), share with other North China religious traditions a basic cos-
mology as well as a certain vocabulary, while remaining nonetheless recogniz-
ably distinct (compare, for example, with groups studied in Li 1948 and Shao
1997). For example, while the Eternal Venerable Mother, one of the most wide-
spread of Northern deities, does appear in Temple scriptures, she is not an ob-
ject of special devotion and her role is not central. Nor do Temple scriptures,
which are quite rustic, overtly attempt to mimic the texts of elite traditions, as
do the scriptures of, for example, the Yiguandao (Li 1948:32–130 includes
many examples of Yiguandao texts. In English, see Bosco 1994; Jordan and
Overmyer 1986).
From 1927 forward, the Temple came to be frequently involved in provin-
cial and even national politics, and this aspect of Temple history dominates the
secondary sources at our disposal. In late 1927, in the first confrontation be-
tween the Temple and the state since Liu Tingfang’s alleged execution in 1849,
the New Temple began to organize as the Great Han Self-Governing Nation-
Establishing Army to rise up against newly established “Christian warlord”
Feng Yuxiang. Sources depict this initial uprising as a conservative reaction
against Feng’s modernizing reforms (Liu 1986; Wang Shuntang 1986). A
decade later, in 1938, the New Temple, under Zhu Quanfu (Zhu Jin’gang’s son;
Zhu père had killed himself via an opium overdose in 1936) remobilized the
Great Han Self-Governing Nation-Establishing Army to attack Nationalist au-
thorities once again. Sources are silent as to the motivations of Temple leaders.
Both rebellions ended in complete failure.
In the summer of 1940, the Henan KMT, to this point an implacable enemy
of the Temple (and the object of Temple rebellions), sought out the Temple as
an ally. Fearing that Temple organization and resources might fall into the hands
of either the Japanese or the Communists, the KMT authorized a series of ini-
tiatives to attempt to bind the Temple to its cause. The first was a Temple
“church,” whose mission was to spread anticommunist propaganda. Some
months later, the KMT replaced the church with an “Emergency National Sal-
vation Society,” in which all society members were also members of Temple
70 david ownby
congregations. In the spring of 1941, Zhu Quanfu even entered the KMT, and
the Henan branch of the Nationalist Party issued proclamations praising his pa-
triotism. In the fall of 1943, a Nationalist military figure joined the Temple in
Zhu Quanfu’s home base of Baisha, where Zhu had returned following the
eclipse of the Emergency National Salvation Society, with the goal of using the
Temple organization. Zhu subsequently helped the Nationalists to organize a
“special agent company” to assess Communist organizational strength in the
central Henan region.
In the spring of 1944, the Japanese army crossed the Yellow River to the
south, extending their control to what had been KMT-controlled Henan. See-
ing an opportunity, Zhu Quanfu now offered his organization to the Japanese,
who permitted him to establish the “Temple of the Heavenly Immortals Anti-
Communist National Salvation Humanity and Righteousness Society” in the
Dengfeng county seat. The mission of the Society was to penetrate villages and
carry out propaganda to convince people to submit to the Japanese and avoid
the Communists. Some Society sub-branches also had military functions, at-
tacking CCP base areas on four occasions between the autumn of 1944 and the
spring of 1945, and carrying out search and arrest operations of suspected Com-
munists or Communist sympathizers.
In the wake of the Japanese surrender, the Nationalists attempted to reacti-
vate their former alliance with Zhu Quanfu and the New Temple. The KMT
promised to name Zhu commander of whatever force he could muster, and Zhu
set about establishing a “Rearguard Company for the Extermination of the
Communists,” the effectiveness of which was lost due to subsequent Commu-
nist military advances. Early in 1948, KMT military forces once again at-
tempted to capitalize on Zhu Quanfu’s mobilizational power to launch a com-
bined attack against the Communist forces, but the People’s Liberation Army
(PLA) was too strong and the collaboration failed to materialize. The PLA’s at-
tack on Luoyang early in the second lunar month of 1948 sparked yet another
Temple uprising. Although the KMT military was apparently again responsible
for the initial planning of the uprising, Temple leaders soon oriented it toward
their own ends, which at this point were both anti-KMT and anti-CCP. By the
fall of 1948, New Temple leaders had set up the Way of the Temple of the Heav-
enly Immortals Poor People’s National Salvation Self-Governing Army, which
once again was no match for the PLA. Zhu Quanfu felt obliged to turn himself
in to the Communist authorities early in 1949. He was released after reeduca-
tion, but continued to attempt to organize rebellions, which culminated in his
arrest and execution in the early summer of 1950, on the occasion of a mass
criticism session.
The execution of Zhu Quanfu seems to have brought at least a temporary end
to the rebellious activities of the New Temple. At the same time, the Old Tem-
ple, seemingly politically quiescent during most of the Republican period, rose
up in a flurry of armed uprisings in the period immediately before and after the
establishment of the People’s Republic. Indeed, it is these uprisings, and the

documents generated by their suppression, which inform part of the analysis
below. In the spring and summer of 1948, a combined force of fifteen hundred
Old Temple troops under Ren Dianchao, the most important Old Temple leader
of this period, organized an attack on Communist government installations,
burning down government offices, and burning and beating to death some thir-
teen people, including a district leader. A similar uprising occurred in the late
spring of 1949, in which eleven more were killed. Ren tried once again, in the
summer of 1949, assembling a force of six hundred who were to hide their
weapons in carts until they penetrated Luoyang city and launch their attack on
receiving the signal from Old Temple leadership. Once again, the Communist
authorities learned of the plan before the entire force could enter the city. An-
other planned attack on Luoyang, to make good on the missed opportunity just
described, was also defused by the Communists shortly after the first attempt-
ed rising. Yet another attempt, in the fall of 1950, was foiled by poor organiza-
tion. Ren Dianchao was finally arrested in the spring of 1951, and executed
some two years later. His execution was part of a major campaign to suppress
secret societies and popular religions [huidaomen] in 1953; the Temple was a
major target of this campaign in the central Henan area. Despite the apparent
success of this campaign, the relationship between the Temple and Communist
authorities has remained troubled. In the period between 1953 and 1990, the
Temple attempted twelve organized rebellions, about which we have only the
scantiest of details.4
We have little information concerning the more strictly religious activities of
the Temple during this period of heightened political and military activity. We
do not know to what extent Temple members throughout the Temple networks
were expected to participate in the uprisings or political activities just de-
scribed, nor how ordinary Temple members may have regarded the multiple po-
litical and military engagements undertaken by their leaders. We do know that
the Republican period was one of expansion in Temple membership, as well as
the one in which the greatest number of Temple texts were composed (few of
which directly discuss the events in question). This suggests, if nothing else,
that Temple political and military activities did not unduly hinder the normal
activities of the Temple as a popular religion.
the communist representation of temple religion

and temple rebellion
It was of course these political and military activities which invited the inter-
vention of the state and produced the written materials necessary to a textual
analysis of the Communist representation of the Temple. The base on which
I will reconstruct this representation consists of some twenty documents,
amounting to more than sixty manuscript pages from various organs of the
Henan Public Security Bureau and the Henan Judiciary (including county-
72 david ownby
level units).5 These documents include reports by local Public Security Bureau
(PSB) investigators; depositions by those alleged to have instigated the rebel-
lions; records of judgment and sentence; and commentaries on the judgments.
Included, too, are a number of scriptures, transcribed as part of the process of
deposing Temple leaders. PSB officials made almost no use of these scriptural
materials in their commentaries, preferring instead to base their judgments
on the depositions themselves. I include these texts below in my “scripture-
driven” representation of Temple religion and rebellion. All of these documents
are related to the series of rebellions by the Old Temple, under the leadership
of Ren Dianchao, between the eve of the Communist revolution and the sup-
pression of huidaomen in 1953.
To someone trained in Qing history, these documents look very familiar. In-
deed, the attitudes of Communist officials appear largely continuous with those
of their Qing predecessors. Of course, there is at least one huge difference be-
tween the analysis carried out by imperial mandarins on the one hand and Com-
munist officials on the other: the larger construct of class/ideology, which
serves both as a starting point and a systematic frame of inquiry for the docu-
ments in question. In summary statements defining the nature of the rebellion,
for example, court officials and officers of the Public Security Bureaus provide
a Marxist gloss to their interpretation of the rebellion, before moving toward a
more focused discussion of Temple religion proper. In addition, the first entry
in each arrested Temple member’s dossier, for example, is a thumbnail bio-
graphical sketch in which his class status, as defined according to land reform
categories, figures prominently. Several leading members of the Temple were
identified as “landlords” or “rich peasants,” although too many poor peasants
participated in Temple rebellions for Communist documents to describe the
whole episode as a product of class exploitation. Similarly, the idea that reli-
gion served as a front to “cheat the masses” appears frequently throughout the
documents, even in the mouths of Temple members, particularly in their “sup-
plementary confessions,” when they are asked to reflect on their activities.
Alongside these Marxist categories are found other, more narrowly political
considerations. The role of Kuomintang “remnants” and “spies” is frequently
alluded to as an important element behind Temple revolts, and many Temple
leaders’ past histories included membership in the KMT itself or cooperation
with various figures identified with the KMT (Shao 1997 illustrates that such
activities were extremely widespread). Similarly, the Temple’s patriotism is
called into question by frequent reference to one of the Temple’s “slogans,”
which the Communists understood as expressing Temple “respect” for Ameri-
can “strength.” Indeed, the documents cite one Temple member as asking:
“When will the Americans finally arrive [in Henan]?” As the rebellion and its
suppression coincided with the beginning of the Korean War, it is not difficult
to grasp the force of such accusations in the context of the consolidation of
Communist rule.
Still, the documents do not overstress the class analysis of the Temple rebel-
lions, nor do they seem to exaggerate in linking the Temple either with the KMT
or with the Americans. Indeed, it is striking how little the documents make use
of such information, which in the moral and political context of the period
would have been particularly damning. Nor is there mention in these documents
of Temple collaboration with Japan during the War of Resistance, although this
might be explained by the ignorance of the officials involved in the prosecution
of the case, or by the fact that while the New Temple collaborated with Japan,
Ren Dianchao was the leader of the Old Temple. In any case, if the documents
are relatively unsophisticated as class analysis, they nonetheless provide a good
deal of descriptive material which is useful in helping to understand how local
PSB officials in the early 1950s understood the mechanisms of the rebellion and
the motivations of those who joined.
These motivations are variously described. Temple leaders are characterized
as criminals, which explains their implication in rebellions as well. Almost in-
variably, leaders are depicted as having a long history of malfeasance, predat-
ing, sometimes by decades, their involvement in the rebellions in question. Ren
Dianchao is described as a “bureaucratic-landlord element” who later served
in bandit-warlord armies, where he “made great wealth by robbing, burning,
killing, and injuring the people.” In between military engagements, “he sold
drugs and weapons and ammunition to cheat and rob the people. There was no
bad thing that he did not do.” To official commentators, it was only natural that
Ren wind up as the head of the Old Temple, who “amassed [followers] to rise
up and kill and injure revolutionary warriors when the PLA crossed the Yellow
River [to the south] in 1947.”
In the eyes of the Communist authorities, membership in the Temple fit in
easily with this criminal profile: “spiritual abilities” such as facility in calling
down spirits or exorcising demons provided an easy means to fleece the mass-
es of their money, an activity which the perpetrators continued in more orga-
nized—and profitable—fashion as Temple leaders, who were in a position to
set entry fees and demand contributions. Indeed, again reminiscent of their
Qing predecessors, Communist authorities were very interested in the exact
amounts of money “extorted” from Temple followers by various Temple lead-
ers.
Motivations of the few Temple leaders who had no criminal past are ex-
plained by their having been “cheated,” for which they receive lesser sentences.
The same explanation covers ordinary Temple believers, who were occasion-
ally “reeducated” and released, but in most cases simply told to renounce their
religious affiliation. Indeed, official representation simplistically divides par-
ticipants in rebellions into evil leaders and innocent followers, who are duped
by the leaders’ apparent possession of charismatic or magical abilities. If such
a characterization unhelpfully oversimplifies the complex of factors governing
individual decisions, it nonetheless has the virtue of motivating Communist of-
74 david ownby
ficials to focus on the language and practices employed by leaders to “hood-

wink” their followers. From these symbolic materials, we can reconstruct the
Communist understanding of the Temple religio-rebellious discourse, even if the
officials involved in prosecuting the case were primarily concerned with locating
incriminating material enabling them to construct a credible case, and not with
the intellectual question of the relationship between religion and politics.
A composite portrait of the Temple rebellion, drawn on the basis of the ele-
ments which captured the Communist authorities’ attention, is of an apocalyp-
tic movement, based on religious beliefs (or “feudal superstition”), with an em-
peror as the savior. Old Temple leader Ren Dianchao’s confession contains, in
concentrated and fairly coherent form, the basic elements that are repeated in a
more scattered fashion throughout the rest of the documents, and thus can serve
as a good introduction.
I [once] discovered a small snake, and used it as a pretext to spread the rumor that it was
the “ancestor of the nine dragons.” I put it in a green pan and held three days of opera,
and [at the same time had] a medium circulate the message that the snake was the an-
cestor of the nine dragons returned to earth, and that before long, the Temple would pro-
duce a genuine dragon. . . . In 1947 and 1948, I held several meetings . . . in which I car-
ried out counterrevolutionary propaganda [Ren has obviously been asked by his accusers
to reflect on his behavior], telling people: “Go home and hasten to recruit your relatives
and friends. The great disaster may strike at any time. . . . An emperor will emerge from
our Temple. . . . When that occurs, those who can must protect the court, and even those
who cannot will enjoy flourishing wealth and nobility.”
Of the numerous apocalyptic references repeated throughout the confessions,

only a few echo Ren Dianchao’s confession in linking the apocalypse directly
to the emperor. In general, the references to the apocalypse stand alone, some
depicting the coming disaster, others calculating the precise moment of the end
of the world, yet others characterizing the violence which was to accompany
the end. Consistent with what we know of Chinese (and other) apocalyptic tra-
ditions, these references are couched in esoteric, seemingly coded, language,
and are thus rather disjointed and difficult to understand. This perhaps explains
the authorities’ relative lack of interest in the apocalyptic themes. As mentioned
above, the file of Ren Dianchao’s confession includes a number of scriptures.
Although the scriptures are full of apocalyptic references, the authorities make
no mention of these materials in their summaries or analyses of the rebellion.
It was the image of the emperor as “messiah,” rather than the subtleties of
the Temple’s apocalyptic vision, which seems to have caught the eye of the
Communist authorities. The following quote, drawn from one of Temple lead-
ing element Mu Jingyin’s depositions, may well capture the general official un-
derstanding of the roots of rural religious rebellion:
The People’s Liberation Army forbade us to burn incense, and we felt hatred for this rea-
son. This is why we were always wanting to rise up, hoping that a true-dragon son of
heaven would emerge, and exterminate the PLA. So we in our Temple wanted to come
out to protect the emperor, in order the receive high official posts, to the glory of our an-
cestors and lineage.
Here, the apocalypse appears to be dismissed as an explanatory factor in fa-

vor of brute military force: the army outlawed the most basic of religious acts—
the burning of incense—and Temple members thus wanted to get rid of the
army. Incapable of accomplishing this by themselves, they imagined the arrival
of an emperor, who in addition to exterminating the PLA, would also reward
Temple loyalty with bureaucratic positions. The rebel slogan cited most fre-
quently by the authorities evokes a similar image of mysterious military pow-
er: “The Dragon Gate Mountain [to the south of Luoyang, where, according to
some confessions, the emperor was to emerge] is xian [immortal, a source of
divine power] all the year long. There are tens of thousands of troops amassed
there.” Other quotes emphasized by PSB officials play on the common “drag-
on” element in “Dragon Gate Mountain” and “true-dragon son of heaven”:
“Master Liu [Tingfang, the Temple founder] . . . returned to the world [by pos-
sessing a Temple medium], and communicated the message that: ‘My teacher
here in Baicaowa is a real god; I am a genuine dragon. In the future, the court
will appear to the northeast of here.’” This clearly seems to suggest that the em-
peror is to appear from within the Temple itself, in the person of Liu Tingfang,
returned to earth.
The emperor was to be protected through magical means. Temple leaders in-
structed their followers to “make generals from the clear water, and soldiers
from the yellow earth. Protect the lord as he mounts the foundations.” Indeed,
an important mechanism in the mobilization of Temple forces was what the
Communists called “feudal superstition,” a rich and varied set of magical and
folk practices which apparently suffused the Temple movement. We find, in the
investigative materials generated by the Communist prosecution, references to
talismans, generally made from yellow fabric, on which ideograms were in-
scribed. Inscriptions included: the eight trigrams, “justice,” “Temple,” or the
diagram of the Great Ultimate. If worn in battle, such talismans were believed
to confer invulnerability, particularly if they had been worn for one hundred
days before the battle took place. The talismans were frequently accompanied
by yellow leg wrappings and belts. Believers also went into battle with a
“duster” [fuchen] which spread “Buddha dust.” They sang the “duster song,”
which was to render them nearly invisible—as well as invulnerable—to their
enemies. Other materials included yellow flags to be used for purposes of iden-
tification, date wood seals, and a variety of written materials—books contain-
ing songs and chants, sayings of the gods, or planchette writings.
In summary, Temple religion, in the interpretation of the Temple rebellion
put forward by PSB officials, offered a much more compelling explanation than
did either class or political factors—or at least they devoted more time to these
aspects than to class analysis. To rephrase this interpretation, the general igno-
rance of the rural population, which took the form in this case of susceptibility
to the practices and beliefs associated with “feudal superstition,” provided fer-
tile ground for the machinations of evil men. These evil men mobilized Tem-
ple believers to rise up by suggesting that the instability of the late 1940s and
76 david ownby
early 1950s presaged the coming of the apocalypse, when the emperor would
intervene to save Temple believers. It bears repeating that the “argument” as
such is not made in the documents, which limit themselves to finding and pre-
senting incriminating evidence. The authorities attempt no explanation of the
power of the imperial symbol, be it nostalgic or purely “religious.” They make
no attempt to link the idea of the emperor to other aspects of Temple religion
(in which they have little interest). To them it appears natural that the thoughts
of a “backward” and “feudal” group like the Temple would turn toward impe-
rial restoration. And one must admit that such a view does not immediately con-
tradict more scholarly studies of Chinese popular religion, especially those
which emphasize the parallel between the political and religious realms.
temple religion as represented by temple scriptures

It is by now commonplace to note that the interpretation advanced by Chinese
authorities of popular religion and popular movements is biased. It has often
proven difficult, however, to get past this bias, especially in particular cases.
Luckily, in the case of the Temple, we have documents from within the move-
ment against which to test the state’s representation. To prefigure the conclu-
sion at which we will arrive, we will not argue that the state completely dis-
torted Temple religion. Most, if not all of the elements—slogans, formulae,
symbols—which figure prominently in the Communists’ representation of
Temple religion are indeed found in the scriptures, as well. The point is, how-
ever, that the position and import of these symbols in Temple scriptures are not
the same as that which we find in the Communist authorities’ interpretation. En-
tire realms of discourse are simply ignored, or swept under the rug.
My analysis of Temple religion is based on three discrete bodies of evidence:
a small number of documents from the Republican period, recopied in 1937,
and confiscated by the Public Security Bureau of the Communist regime around
the time of liberation; a small number of scriptures reproduced by Temple lead-
ers (essentially Ren Dianchao) arrested just after the 1949 revolution, as part of
their depositions; and a larger number of Republican-period documents which
have been recopied—with some additions—and circulated in the 1990s. The
overwhelming majority of the documents currently in our possession date from
the Republican period, which is unsurprising. The majority of these texts, in
turn, come from two overlapping collections recopied in the 1990s. Given the
relationship between the Temple and Communist authorities, research into the
history of the texts is virtually impossible. My very strong impression is that
in form and content, the 1990s scriptures are continuous with those of the pre-
revolutionary period. If there are more seemingly innocuous documents in the
1990s packages—that is, texts which appear to have no relationship to rebel-
lion or the apocalypse—this is surely explained by the fact that all of the texts
in our possessions with the exception of the 1990s collections come to us
through the agency of the police, who tend quite naturally to search out and em-
phasize “problematic” texts, while discarding those which appear less incrim-
inating.
Temple religion, as represented by these scriptures, does not lend itself to
easy summary. First, like many Chinese popular religions, the Temple was and
is radically syncretic, drawing symbols and practices from a number of tradi-
tions. It is clear that no central Temple religious authority succeeded in harmo-
nizing the written transmission of Temple beliefs and doctrines—if indeed such
was ever attempted. Consequently, even if we can identify a common base of
deities, prescriptions, and preoccupations which appear in most Temple texts,
explanations of the inner logic of Temple faith vary considerably, and Temple
documents’ representation of the relationship between the Temple and other re-
ligious traditions is particularly confusing. Another difficulty in attempting to
summarize Temple religion is our total ignorance of the relationship between
the scriptures currently in our possession and the larger corpus of Temple texts
created since the late nineteenth century. Nor can we know what texts might
have been excluded in the 1990s when believers recopied Republican period
texts, although since numerous apocalyptic, imperial, and otherwise “reac-
tionary” elements were indeed recopied, it seems fair to conclude that produc-
ing a politically correct version of the faith was not the primary goal of this re-
issue.
These difficulties aside, one can nonetheless construct an image of Temple
religion from Temple scriptures, bearing in mind that it is a representation like
that accomplished by Communist authorities, if perhaps a somewhat more sym-
pathetic one. This reconstruction will focus on three aspects of Temple religion
which recur repeatedly in Temple texts: a call for the restoration of traditional
family and village morality; a celebration of the paranormal powers of Temple
masters and gods; and a warning of the apocalypse to come, which also served
as an urgent invitation to enter or consolidate ties with the Temple, as a vehicle
capable of surviving the apocalypse.
traditional popular morality

Temple scriptures are suffused with family and village moral concerns that af-
firm the values of hierarchy and submission, for which the common folk are
praised in the documents of elite Confucianism, as well as in many texts drawn
from the Daoist and Chinese Buddhist traditions. The titles alone of many of
the documents are revealing in this regard: “The Origins of Man” (a gloss on
the Three Character Classic), “Repent and Exhaust Filiality,” “The Filial Son,”
and “Master Zhu Seeks a Teacher Because His Mother Is Ill.” In the codified
rules of the Temple Faith (“The Twenty-Eight Prohibitions,” “The Eighteen Do
Nots,” etc.) such sentiments figure prominently. The first of the “Ten Prescrip-
tions of the Way of Women” stipulates that: “Before marrying, be filial to your
parents; begin such practice early, to repay the debt owed to your parents”
(Scriptures 1996:41). The fourth through the seventh of the “Eighteen Do Nots”
78 david ownby
read: “Do not forget the debt of gratitude owed to parents”; “Do not forget the
emotional ties to siblings”; “Do not obey the words of your wife”; and “Do not
spoil your children” (Scriptures 1996:40). These interdictions are preceded by:
“Do not conceal things from the gods of heaven and earth”; “Do not disobey
the imperial laws of the dynasty”; and “Do not fail to pay the taxes owed to of-
ficials,” suggesting that the larger set of hierarchical relationships in which fam-
ily ties supposedly inhered as preached by elite Confucian texts continues to
resonate in Temple doctrine as well. Indeed, one of the packages of Temple doc-
uments that we were given contained a handwritten copy of passages from Zhu
Xi’s Family Rituals, the twelfth-century ritual compendium, characterized in the
introduction to its authoritative English-language translation as a “militantly
Confucian book [which] . . . facilitated the standardization of Chinese ritual be-
havior and thereby helped shape some key conceptions about cosmic and so-
cial order” (Ebrey 1991: xv, xxix).
Nor are references to such virtues merely pro forma. Although Temple gods
are celebrated primarily for their paranormal powers, such powers are nonethe-
less constructed on a moral basis, which naturally includes embodiment of the
popular ethical values under discussion. Zhu Jin’gang’s original motivation in
seeking out Zhang Mingyuan, for example, was the filial desire to cure his
mother’s illness. His teachings are laden with references to the Twenty-Four
Tales of Filial Virtue and with calls to practice filiality, brotherly respect, and
submission to hierarchy. On her deathbed, the counsels of Master Zhu’s wife to
her children reflect typical Confucian ambitions, and do not even hint that she
and her husband, as objects of considerable religious devotion, inhabited sep-
arate spheres of moral discourse or practice.
The tone of many of these documents bespeaks a yearning for a perhaps
mythic past when these family values were more genuinely and universally em-
braced. Pursuit of riches or individual gain is often deplored, as indeed is any
behavior which smacks of selfishness in any form. While it is tempting to iden-
tify such appeals with what one assumes to be the rapidly deteriorating social
order in Republican-period Henan, one should note at the same time that con-
demnation of the sorry state of contemporary morality is a rhetorical strategy
shared by many religious groups, from the New England Puritans to Melane-
sian Cargo Cults to the Branch Davidians. Occasionally, Temple documents do
make direct references to contemporary political events or cultural trends, as
for example when one passage identifies democracy as the reason for the gen-
eral decline in moral standards: “The clarity of vision one achieves in study of
the Three Character Classic cannot be improved upon . . . [but] these days, now
that the ‘people are the masters,’ . . . who practices humaneness and ritual pro-
priety?” (Scriptures 1996:22). In general, however, Temple documents are nei-
ther concrete nor specific in their rejection of present practices.
Other themes stressed in the scriptures might be revealing of the socioeco-
nomic character of the Temple and Temple members, and perhaps of the men-
talities of these groups. Much is made, for example, of the virtues of poverty.
Liu Tingfang, the Temple founder, was “known for being able to cleave to right-
eousness despite poverty” (Scriptures 1996:15). Zhang Mingyuan “was poor
all his life” (Scriptures 1996:30). Wealth, along with liquor, sex, and anger, are
vices to be particularly avoided. Temple disciples are frequently warned against
the sin of greed: “Money . . . like blood . . . must circulate, as it is the origin of
the cultivation of our [collective] lives. If you force it to stay in one place [by
accumulating too much], this is an injury to heaven, and an injury the material
world, and will necessarily lead to problems” (Scriptures 1996:70–1). The
same sentiments appear repeatedly in the rules for Temple life: “Those who
seek after money and bribes shall be prohibited from entering my faith” (Scrip-
tures 1996:39). “You must not envy the rich” (Scriptures 1996:43).
Accompanying this condemnation of the pursuit of excessive wealth is an-
other set of attitudes which we might characterize as an embrace of simplicity
or unpretentiousness. Among those to be prohibited from entering the Temple
are “those who fawn upon the rich and noble,” “those who stand on ceremony,”
“those who are fond of bragging on their own abilities,” “those who sneer at the
poor,” and “those who are fond of putting on false airs” (Scriptures 1996:39).
Alongside proscriptions of “envying the rich” and “ridiculing the poor,” Tem-
ple members are also warned against demanding “[undue] gratitude of those for
whom you have done something,” and against “insisting on exaggerated levels
of politeness” (Scriptures 1996:43). Such rules may have been prompted by a
concern for sincerity and honesty among Temple members, or may even reflect
a Confucian concern that submission to hierarchy be accompanied by heartfelt
acceptance of one’s status—however lowly—therein. Indeed, the idea of “fair-
ness” is invoked in some passages to validate hierarchy. On the other hand, a
certain pride in poverty shines through on occasion, suggesting what might be
a class-based sense of solidarity, perhaps foreshadowing resistance based on a
combination of “rationality” and “morality”; as one Temple scripture notes:
“My Master [Zhang Mingyuan] was not born in a fancy temple” (Scriptures
1996:16). Nor should one overlook the appearance of “fairness” as a slogan on
Temple banners and talismans during rebellions.
paranormal abilities
If Temple leaders embodied these qualities, and Temple members were called
upon to practice these virtues, the charismatic power at the center of Temple re-
ligion was not popular morality, but rather the paranormal powers claimed by
Temple leaders. As suggested above, Temple leaders made themselves known
through their healing powers, exorcistic abilities widely claimed across the
spectrum of popular religious activity, in China and elsewhere. Zhang Ming-
yuan translated Liu Tingfang’s vision into a religion by healing the sick. Zhu
Jin’gang joined the Temple because Zhang Mingyuan cured his mother. Zhu,
in turn, healed others. When I visited the sacred sites of the Temple in the sum-
80 david ownby
mer of 1994, it was obvious that healing power was a powerful magnet draw-
ing new and old believers to Temple centers and activities. Grandmothers
bathed feverish children in Temple incense. Old ladies scraped dirt and bark
from the supposed tomb of Zhang Mingyuan, from which they would make
healing potions. Temple exorcists, spitting charmed water and laying hands on
those who came in search of aid, promised relief from a variety of ailments.
These healing powers were the worldly manifestation of otherworldly ca-
pacities. In most cases described in detail in the scriptures, the illnesses which
prompt the afflicted to call upon the Temple masters have been caused by past
crimes which have gone unpunished or in which the correct verdict has not been
rendered. Temple masters have the power to descend into hell and to confront
vindictive, troublesome spirits, thus relieving the sufferings of the person who
has sought him out. In one instance the Master succeeds in unraveling a com-
plex case involving a man who had been wrongfully killed more than forty
years earlier. The man had been a merchant and had loaned money to the vil-
lage bully. This latter, irritated by the merchant’s repeated efforts to dun him for
repayment, killed him, and with his brother chopped the body into bits and
buried it in the family courtyard under a tree. Many years later, the bully’s
grandson, in the process of digging a cellar, uncovered the bones, at which point
the wronged ghost afflicted the grandson with a debilitating illness. The Mas-
ter sought out the original bully in hell and meted out the proper punishment,
thus curing the grandson (Scriptures 1996:71).
Although power to heal illness seems to have constituted the primary attrac-
tion by which the Temple built up its membership, Temple scriptures make
broader claims for the paranormal powers of Temple masters. Temple masters,
both living and dead, are often referred to as “gods returned to the world of
men” (Scriptures 1996:37, 57, 68, 72, 75, 76), obviously recalling the sacrifice
made by the Buddhist Bodhisattvas. Temple masters are frequently depicted in
more Daoist terms as immortals (Scriptures 1996:18, 44), standing or traveling
on clouds (Scriptures 1996:18, 27, 37, 52), or refusing “earthly food.” (Scrip-
tures 1996:15). These claims are in part “genealogical”: Temple founder Liu
Tingfang was often presented as the reincarnation of Jiang Ziya, the mythic
hero of the popular Ming novel Enfeoffment of the Gods, who “originally sup-
pressed the evil spirits and elevated the beheaded generals [in the novel] to the
status of gods” (Scriptures 1996:19). The use of split characters to refer to Liu
Tingfang (the elements mao and jin make up the character liu), a device used
repeatedly throughout the scriptures to refer to most if not all Temple masters,
constitutes yet another affirmation of their mysterious divine power, as split
characters appear repeatedly in prophecies and other “heterodox” texts.
Another basis for Temple claims to paranormal powers is the possession, by
Temple masters, of an impressive intuitive knowledge of the yin or spirit world.
One of the Temple scriptures recounts a spiritual battle between Zhu Jin’gang
and a rival claimant to spiritual authority, Hu Zhizhong. Hu begins the verbal
jousting with a demonstration of his knowledge of the cosmos: “I’ll speak of

the Way and you can listen. Let’s start with Pan Gu.” Hu continued in this man-
ner, providing what Zhu Jin’gang obviously considered to be mundane trivia,
for when Zhu’s turn came, he did not hesitate to pose difficult questions: “Do
you know about the spirit world? . . . When you die some day, where will your
soul go? Who will decide if your fate is good or bad? . . . Let me ask you, Hu
Zhizhong: Do you know the answers to these questions?” (Scriptures 1996:90)
Hu subsequently joined the Temple, publicly acknowledging the superiority of
Zhu’s Way.
One assumes that it was this knowledge of the spirit world which gave Tem-
ple masters the power to read minds or indeed to know all things. When Zhu
Jin’gang sought out Zhang Mingyuan in hopes of asking Zhang to cure his
mother, Zhang, who was in a dream trance, recognized Zhu as a potential dis-
ciple, read his mind, and cured his mother at a distance, all before Zhu opened
his mouth to speak (Scriptures 1996:63–5). In another instance a wayward dis-
ciple afflicted by a “spirit illness” caused by his own wrongdoing decided to
put Master Zhu’s powers of omniscience to the test. Before submitting to the
Master’s diagnosis of his illness, the afflicted disciple asked the Master to de-
scribe the disciple’s house, which, presumably, the Master had never visited.
Although angered by this brazen test of his abilities, the Master responded that
“I can read all-under-heaven like I read my palm,” and proceeded to describe
the house and its surroundings in minute detail (Scriptures 1996:73–6). One
might conclude that even if the primary realm of the exercise of Temple para-
normal powers lay in the healing of illness, such power served other purposes
as well. Preaching to his disciples, Zhu Jin’gang once felt called upon to enu-
merate examples of his power. One of these examples is particularly revealing:
I protected the town of Jiangzihe and all the people of the town became gods. When
Chiang Kaishek and Feng Yuxiang fought at Jindian [in 1930], masses of disciples came
to implore me, saying: “Master, please use your magic.” I responded: “I will protect you.
There will be no more than ten injuries.” The canons roared and the bombs fell for weeks
on end, and only nine people lost their lives. (Scriptures 1996:53)
Such powers might be related to the Temple masters’ claims to be able to fash-
ion “generals out of the water, and . . . soldiers out of the yellow earth” (Scrip-
tures 1996:17).
apocalypse
The paranormal powers of Temple gods and masters were also invoked in the
context of the coming apocalypse, the final aspect of Temple religion to be dis-
cussed. Until we have a finer-grained study of the complex history of apoca-
lyptic thought and millenarian movements in China, it will be difficult to situ-
ate visions like those of the Temple vis-à-vis those of other similar groups. Still,
it is obvious that the Temple has drawn on both Buddhist and Daoist tradi-
tions—which of course have not for centuries existed as independent mil-
82 david ownby
lenarian currents in China—without being subsumed by either. Like the pre-

cious scrolls of the White Lotus, for example, Temple documents evoke the
turning of the kalpa (Scriptures 1996:56, 57, 62), the descent of the Maitreya
Buddha (Scriptures 1996:56, 57), and the person of the Queen Mother of the
West (Scriptures 1996:57). However, none of these elements is given pride of
place in Temple documents, and the Eternal Venerable Mother, the central de-
ity of White Lotus and associated faiths, is not once mentioned in an apoca-
lyptic context. Thus the Temple does not simply repeat, or even simply recast,
the apocalyptic message of White Lotus sects. By the same token, the end of
the world is often attributed by Temple authors to demonic invasion, as is fre-
quently the case in apocalyptic texts drawn from the Daoist tradition. Nonethe-
less, the Taoist savior, Laozi, or more likely Li Hong, does not appear at all in
Temple texts.
Still, the Temple apocalyptic vision is unique only in an academic sense;
most of the themes sounded in Temple texts are in fact quite familiar. One finds,
for example, the graphic descriptions of the imminent end of the world com-
mon to all millenarian visions: “The lord above has sent down the star of dis-
aster, and the chaos of fire is returning to the world of men. Plagues are com-
ing to the world and will be transmitted everywhere. . . . The catastrophe of
knives and soldiers is also descending, and the world will be at war” (Scriptures
1996:47–48). As already noted, the destruction is attributed in other passages
to demonic intervention; there is much talk of “evil stars” (Scriptures 1996:48,
49, 50, 53, 54, 59, 61) and of the “five devils [who] have invaded the world”
(Scriptures 1996:50), even if we do not find in Temple texts the proliferation of
demons or the specificity of reference which mark such classic Daoist apoca-
lyptic texts as the Shenzhoujing (see Mollier 1990). By contrast, there is very
little discussion of the messiah or of the paradise to come after the disaster. I
will discuss the question of the messiah in more detail below, when comparing
the Communist interpretation of the Temple movement with the interpretation
I am building based on Temple scriptures. As for the coming paradise, one of
the few mentions of this new world notes simply that “the world will once again
be at peace, and there will be plenty of money to buy the flour we need. There
will be much land; the five grains will flourish. All will have compassion for
one another” (Scriptures 1996:50).
If demons are the agents of cosmic destruction, its cause is general moral
decline. The population in general is likened in one passage to “an unbridled
horse” which refuses all instruction and follows its own will (Scriptures 1996:
54). The specific sins most often mentioned are violations of the popular Con-
fucian morality outlined above: “Because the people of this world have turned
their backs on the five [proper] relationships and have forgotten the eight con-
stants, the lord above has sent down the star of disaster” (Scriptures 1996:47–
8). Avarice (Scriptures 1996:22, 29, 48, and passim) and neglect of filial obli-
gations (Scriptures 1996:23, 60) are often cited as well. Graver sins are also
mentioned—murder, robbery, banditry, cheating (Scriptures 1996:50)—al-

though it is unclear if these are causes or symptoms. In any case, the most fre-
quent depiction of the apocalypse is as a day of reckoning: “[In] the coming dis-
aster . . . lives [lost] will be repaid with lives; debts [incurred] will be repaid
with debts” (Scriptures 1996:50). It seems clear that passages such as this draw
on indigenous Chinese concepts of retribution (bao) (see Brokaw 1991) as well
as Buddhist notions of karma, even if, as Erik Zürcher rightly notes, the cyclic
and individualistic notion of karma ill lends itself to a universal day of reckon-
ing (Zürcher 1982:7). Indeed, Temple scriptures are more eloquent in their de-
scriptions of the punishments which await sinners and nonbelievers in hell than
in their elaborations of the postapocalyptic paradise.
Consistent with their explanation of the causes of the coming apocalypse,
Temple scriptures call on one and all to return to the straight and narrow.
Nonetheless, given that the kalpa is about to turn, calls to “rapidly accumulate
virtue” might be seen as somewhat irrelevant, particularly since, as noted in
some scriptures, one’s fate in the face of the coming disaster “is determined by
your previous life” (Scriptures 1996:50). Thus many Temple documents blur
the distinction between individual karmic retribution and a universal reckoning
based on general moral decline, concluding that joining the Temple is the surest
strategy for survival. The paranormal powers of Temple masters and gods are
evoked yet again as illustrations of the value of the Temple itself as a vehicle
of salvation, even if there is little indication that Temple masters can do more
than provide protection for the elite of believers against the coming disaster. In-
deed, the Temple and the apocalypse make common cause, in a sense, against
an immoral world, as in the case of most apocalyptic movements.
In summary, a balanced characterization of Temple religion, based on the
scriptures in our possession, would note its origins in charismatic exorcism, and
its consolidation in village morality. These ethical concepts were extended into
the yin world by virtue of the illnesses which Temple masters claimed to heal,
which required that they confront vengeful spirits and right wrongs which
might date back several generations, thereby serving as instruments of retribu-
tion. These same powers granted Temple masters a certain clairvoyance, if not
omniscience, as well as the ability to intervene in certain events of the yang
world in order to protect Temple members against banditry, injury in war, and
other painful events. Apocalyptic considerations appear frequently in Temple
scriptures, but are not, in my opinion, central to Temple concerns, if one is to
judge by the scriptures alone. Indeed, in many passages, the word “disaster” is
used to refer to illness or other personal hardship, rather than to catastrophes
which threaten an entire society (for one example, see Scriptures 1996:65). Of
course, there are many seemingly innocuous passages in precious scroll scrip-
tures, or in millenarian Daoist texts, but the Maitreya Buddha, the Eternal Ven-
erable Mother, the Queen Mother of the West, and Daoist deities such as Li
Hong all possess symbolic apocalyptic overtones in and of themselves, what-
84 david ownby
ever role they may play in the more innocent scriptures in question. Such seems
not to be true in the case of Temple deities, who in general are Temple masters.
Indeed, Temple deities do not speak with the messianic egotism of certain apoc-
alyptic texts—they even admit having a hard time getting their own followers
to pay attention to them! (see, for example, Scriptures 1996:54)—nor do the
texts seem to bespeak a genuine yearning for the end of the present, cruel world
and its replacement by a brighter tomorrow. The general tone of Temple docu-
ments, the secondary place of apocalyptic texts within those documents, the
lack of a “logical” connection between Temple doctrines and eschatologi-
cal concerns, and the failure of Temple leaders to present themselves as all-
powerful messiahs—all of these factors tempt me to view apocalyptic passages
or texts as either situation-specific—provoked by intervention of the state—or
as tools of recruitment.
representations juxtaposed
When we compare the Communist interpretation of Temple religion with that
which I have developed, based on Temple scriptures, we note immediately that
the emphases differ. For the Communists, the Temple represented first and fore-
most an apocalyptic movement, with the emperor as its chief symbolic figure,
and restoration of the emperor as its chief objective. Temple leaders, depicted
as unscrupulous entrepreneurs, marketed the Temple to the ignorant masses by
manipulating elements of “feudal superstition.” By contrast, in the scripture-
driven interpretation, village morality and the paranormal powers of Temple
leaders (which, taken together, roughly approximate what the Communists
have called “feudal superstition”) stand out as paramount, while apocalyptic
elements are secondary.
One way to explore this difference of interpretation further is to examine the
role of the emperor, an element virtually omitted from the scriptural interpreta-
tion of Temple religion to this point. As already noted, the emperor is a central
element in the interpretation of the Temple put forth by PSB investigators. The
majority of rebel quotes and slogans repeated across several documents—in
other words, statements which the Communist authorities found particularly
damning—contain references, sometimes veiled, to the emperor or to imperial
restoration. Moreover, Communist investigators in general seemed interested in
apocalyptic themes only insofar as they related to the emperor. This is under-
standable. The Communists had just fought a decades-long battle for control of
all-under-heaven, and might be forgiven for believing that any force of orga-
nized opposition shared similar goals (particularly when leaders of the move-
ment confessed as much!). Furthermore, Chinese Marxism might well expect a
priori that any movement based on “feudal superstition” would have as its ulti-
mate “political expression” the imperial ancien régime.
What do we find when we examine Temple scriptures on the question of the
emperor? First, although a certain, small number of slogans, symbols, and for-
mulae which the Public Security Bureau investigators extracted from Temple
leaders during their interrogation do appear—often verbatim—in Temple scrip-
tures, the imperial references which make up the heart of the PSB indictment
do not. It is hard to know what to make of this. That common elements appear
in both the depositions and the scriptures surely suggests that leaders of the re-
bellion had some familiarity with Temple scriptures or practices and were not
simply Johnny-come-lately entrepreneurs out to exploit a ready-made group.
On the other hand, the fact that the most important imperial references appear-
ing in the confessions are not drawn from the scriptures again suggests the ex-
istence of a body of mobilizational language more specific to the demands of
the situation, and less immediately related either to scripture or to recruitment
in less “apocalyptic” circumstances.
In any case, the absence of the most damning imperial references from Tem-
ple scriptures does not necessarily suggest Temple “innocence” on this score,
as there were a number of other imperial references in the scriptures, which
were not employed by Temple leaders as mobilizational devices at the time of
rebellion. Examination of these passages is inconclusive. Some seem to be
rather general statements, suggesting nostalgic yearning of a happier past and/
or future, and connecting the idea of the emperor thereto without linking the
emperor to the Temple: “Without a True Ruler, how will we live in peace?”
(Scriptures 1996:47). Other passages identify the emperor as a central element
in China’s salvation, without elaborating on who the emperor might be or where
he might come from: “Countries from around the world have come to the cen-
tral plain to cheat the gods and destroy the icons. Later on, however, the em-
peror will take back all-under-heaven, and will lead armies and horses to attack
those who have come from outside of China” (Scriptures 1996:61). Still other
passages—the most crucial for our purposes—seem to identify Temple deities
as the messiah: “The heroes and the great generals come together in Ba-Niu
[Zhu]” (Scriptures 1996:61). “The third kalpa is coming to its conclusion . . .
[and] Ba-Niu [Zhu] stands up to assume the thousand-catty burden [to my
knowledge, not an imperial symbol]” (Scriptures 1996:57). If one were look-
ing to indict the Temple, it would be easy to come to the conclusion that since
the emperor is cited as China’s salvation, and Zhu (Jin’gang or Quanfu) as the
messiah, then the one must equal the other. On the other hand, this explicit iden-
tification is not made in Temple texts. Furthermore, the passages which flirt
with such an identification are often littered with other references which de-
mand explanation:
One country will become six countries, and the way of Ba-Niu [Zhu] will arise [on the
foundations of this disintegration]. There will be also Shi-Ba-Zi [Li], whose great troops
will come to the fore, as well as Gong-Chang [Zhang], a general such as has been rarely
seen. These generals will employ the weapons of the twenty-eight constellations. It is
the [ jade?] emperor who will send these six to eight True Men to appear. Mao-Jin-Dao
[Liu] will appear. (Scriptures 1996:49)
86 david ownby
This passage should surely be classified as “heterodox,” given its obvious apoc-
alyptic, messianic, and military overtones. Is it also imperial? At first glance,
the passage would seem to prophesy the emergence of four Temple gods as
weapon-wielding saviors, but the reference to Shi-Ba-Zi Li is problematic. The
only prominent Li in Temple history of which I am aware is Li Laoxi, head of
the Old Temple, who could conceivably take his place alongside Zhu Jin’gang
(or Zhu Quanfu), Zhang Mingyuan, and Liu Tingfang. However, I have never
seen a New Temple text which acknowledges the divinity of Li Laoxi, nor an
Old Temple text which acknowledges the divinity of the Zhus. Another possi-
ble reading of the passage would emphasize the split-character references to fa-
mous surnames, without necessarily connecting such references to claims that
an imperial messiah will emerge from the ranks of Temple deities. Split char-
acters and famous surnames appear in a wide variety of contexts in China, from
secret societies, to prophecies, to fortune telling, to detective fiction. The sur-
names are often assumed to be associated with historic dynastic founders or
with apocalyptic movements: Liu of the Han dynasty, Zhu of the Ming dynasty,
Zhang of Zhang Daoling, Li making the triple identification with Laozi, his
reincarnation as Li Hong, and Li Shimin, the dynastic founder of the Tang.
Scholars working on particular rebellious or messianic movements have often
taken such references as coded calls for the restoration of a particular dynasty;
references in Triad texts to Ba-Niu [Zhu], for example, have frequently been
taken as a call to restore the Ming. However, one can find Triad texts which in-
clude split-character references to Liu (Han dynasty) and to Zhao (Song dy-
nasty)—and perhaps to others (see discussion in Ownby 1996:99ff). This, plus
the wide variety of usages of split characters may well suggest that they com-
municate “spurious mystification,” in the apt words of T. H. Barrett, rather than
specific references to any one thing in particular (Barrett 1978:341). That the
passage from Temple scripture cited above makes reference to “six to eight”
True Men—and not just the four whose names are given—might be taken as
further evidence for such an interpretation.
In other words, the split-character references may well have been intention-
ally vague, spooky symbols rather than explicit, “political” assertions of the
imperial, messianic divinity of Temple gods. Like much of the apocalyptic
rhetoric, the imperial references in Temple scriptures may have been situation-
specific or mobilizational, rather than central to everyday Temple concerns. In-
deed, when one reads through Temple scriptures, one is struck by the many in-
stances where the authors might have followed through with an imperial image,
but do not. My final impression is that the emperor was taken for granted, with
all the ambiguity implied by such a statement.
conclusion
It has proven difficult to arrive at a convincing depiction of the relationship be-
tween sectarian popular religions and rebellion in modern Chinese history. The
first wave of modern scholarship on the topic, influenced by political as well

as academic trends in the West, looked for and found “alternative” and “dis-
senting” traditions. Subsequent work (often by the same scholars) has empha-
sized the socially and politically conservative nature of many of the texts of the
sectarian traditions, as well as the pacific nature of the majority of sectarian
groups. Rebellions are thus seen as the products of the confrontation between
the state and the sectarian leaders; some scholars have even argued that there
was a division of labor within certain groups between “open” and “secret,” or
“civil” and “military” branches (Naquin 1976:54). Chinese authorities—both
Qing and Communist—endorse a variety of this view as well, depicting rebel-
lions as the work of “evil characters” who mislead the innocent and ignorant
masses.
The findings of the present essay suggest that the division between sectari-
an leaders and their followers can be exaggerated. Juxtaposition of our sources
reveals the existence of a language of mobilization, focusing, according to PSB
officials, on the emperor and the coming apocalypse, upon which Temple lead-
ers drew in order to attempt to garner support for armed uprisings against the
state. This mobilizational language was an elaboration on themes already pre-
sent in Temple religious texts, rather than a completely new and foreign set of
ideas, and the articulation of these themes often made use of familiar Temple
religious practices. Still, this mobilizational language, like the PSB explanation
of Temple rebellion (based of course on precisely this language), is recogniz-
ably different in tone and in emphasis from Temple religion as depicted in most
of Temple scriptures. Indeed, what we find is a series of interlocking discourses:
the state discourse (or representation), built on the mobilizational language so-
licited during interrogations and depositions, which in turn stands in some re-
lationship to the religious discourse as depicted in Temple texts, which, final-
ly, bears some as-yet-unexplored relationship to Temple beliefs and ritual
practices. These discourses are by no means unified, but neither are they unre-
lated.
For the Communists, the discourse of “feudal superstition” required imperi-
al restoration, the emperor being the ultimate expression of “feudal authority.”
In different ways, Western scholarship has also accorded the symbol of the em-
peror a central place in popular religious imagination. Arthur Wolf’s well-
known paradigm posits parallels between the earthly and heavenly bureaucra-
cies, the power of the Jade Emperor replicating that of the earthly variety, thus
suggesting the power of imperial state to implant itself at level of mentalities
(Wolf 1974). The same argument suggests as well a profound conservatism at
the center of the territorial cults which constitute the fabric of much of popular
religion, particularly in South China. Stephen Feuchtwang, in an insightful
analysis, examines the imperial metaphor in Chinese popular religion in a way
which enables him to preserve Wolf’s emphasis on the penetration of the im-
perial state into popular mentalities without preserving the ultimately limiting
88 david ownby
notion of parallel bureaucratic hierarchies (Feuchtwang 1992). The flexibility

of this metaphorical perspective allows Feuchtwang to illustrate how shared
symbols unite an imperial vision grounded in harmony and a local vision
grounded in militaristic exorcisms of omnipresent demonic forces. In an im-
portant commentary on Feuchtwang’s work, British-trained Chinese anthro-
pologist Wang Mingming analyzes Chinese popular religion as a system of au-
thority and adds a historical dimension to Feuchtwang’s study (Wang 1997,
esp. ch. 5). Wang examines the life histories of local leaders in Shiding, Tai-
wan, over the past century, emphasizing that through the 1960s these leaders
served as both temple managers and as representatives of state power ( Japa-
nese, then KMT), thus bringing together in their experience systems of author-
ity with quite different sources of legitimacy. Wang further points out that while
the political modernization of Taiwan has largely absorbed local politics into
an island-wide discourse, popular religion has by no means lost its appeal to the
local population and has instead expanded its appeal by offering new means to
cope with the challenges of “risk management” under Taiwanese capitalism.
My reading of Temple politics as reflected in Temple texts emphasizes a sim-
ilar fluidity and openness. If there is nothing in Temple scriptures which is anti-
imperial, or which might suggest that the Temple embodies conscious alterna-
tives offering a new political or social vision, neither do Temple scriptures
describe a closed system. No inexorable logic binds the emperor to the other el-
ements of the religion; the discourse will not cease to function if the imperial
signifier is removed. The roots of Temple religion—traditional moral values
and paranormal power—can flourish in many different kinds of soil (see the
vast literature on Chinese popular religion on Taiwan and in Southeast Asia)
and may well nourish a variety of political visions. Indeed, when I happened
on a Temple festival in the summer of 1994, I discovered in one of the main al-
tars, beside the central Temple deities and ritual paraphernalia, a stone sculp-
ture of Chairman Mao, set into the temple wall. As the CCP continues its re-
treat from the front lines of rural engagement, such an image might well give
the Party pause.
notes
1. The Public Security Bureau documents were included (perhaps inadvertently?)
in several hundred pages of photocopied materials, most of the wenshi ziliao variety,
given to me by officials involved in the production of local cultural materials in Henan.
2. The main source on which the following account is drawn is Yichuan 1991, which
I suspect is unavailable outside of Henan. Another valuable source is Wang Shuntang
1986. I have also drawn on Liu 1986, Sun 1986, Wang Hanchen 1986, and Shao
1997:200 – 2, 289 – 90, 386– 7, and 426 –7, as well as interviews. As the major source
for this reconstruction is unavailable to other scholars, I have chosen to keep footnotes
to a minimum.
3. Very recent research by scholars in the People’s Republic will eventually allow us
to understand the context of popular religious movements in Republican period China
in a way heretofore impossible. Shao 1997:162– 505 makes it clear that there were many
more of these groups than was previously believed, and that their impact on local soci-
ety and national politics was considerable. Duara 2001 makes a similar point in his dis-
cussion of northeast China, drawing on archival material from the Japanese puppet
regime established in Manchuria. Previously, information in English on Republican-
period popular religious movements was largely limited to Chan 1953.
4. Shao 1997:452– 505 offers much more detail than I have seen elsewhere on the na-
tionwide suppression of popular religious groups in the early 1950s, as well as consid-
erable information concerning their revival in the post-Mao period.
5. Unless otherwise noted, all references in this section are to unpublished Henan
PSB documents in my possession.
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Imperial Fantasies: The Chinese Communists and Peasant Rebellions

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Imperial Fantasies: The Chinese Communists and Peasant Rebellions

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Imperial Fantasies: The Chinese

Communists and Peasant Rebellions*

overview of temple history 2

establishment of the People’s Republic. Indeed, it is these uprisings, and the

the communist representation of temple religion

ficials to focus on the language and practices employed by leaders to “hood-

Of the numerous apocalyptic references repeated throughout the confessions,

Here, the apocalypse appears to be dismissed as an explanatory factor in fa-

temple religion as represented by temple scriptures

traditional popular morality

jousting with a demonstration of his knowledge of the cosmos: “I’ll speak of

lenarian currents in China—without being subsumed by either. Like the pre-

mentioned—murder, robbery, banditry, cheating (Scriptures 1996:50)—al-

first wave of modern scholarship on the topic, influenced by political as well

notion of parallel bureaucratic hierarchies (Feuchtwang 1992). The flexibility

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