Asian Anthropology

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Chinese popular religion and Hong Kong identity

Joseph Bosco

To cite this article: Joseph Bosco (2015) Chinese popular religion and Hong Kong identity, Asian
Anthropology, 14:1, 8-20, DOI: 10.1080/1683478X.2015.1025591

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Published online: 27 May 2015.

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Asian Anthropology, 2015
Vol. 14, No. 1, 8–20, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/1683478X.2015.1025591

Chinese popular religion and Hong Kong identity

Joseph Bosco*

Department of Anthropology, The Chinese University of Hong Kong

Hong Kong Chinese follow traditional Daoist or folk religion, along with Buddhist
practices and ancestor worship. But most urban areas do not have neighborhood
temples, and modern postindustrial life does not fit well with traditional religion. It is
difficult to identify religion in Hong Kong because many people do not recognize their
practices as religious. Many traditional practices and rituals, from neighborhood
processions to “superstitions” like “beating the petty person” and fengshui, have been
presented as heritage representing Hong Kong culture. Religion is thus overlooked in
Hong Kong, and at the same time, diversity and tolerance are the characteristics that
most mark the Hong Kong religious landscape.
Keywords: religion; Buddhism; Chinese popular religion; Hong Kong; heritage

Introduction
Chinese religion in Hong Kong is quite diverse and amorphous. The “great traditions” of
Daoism and Buddhism are combined with ancestor worship and other popular ancient
traditions (including geomancy [ fengshui ] and shamanism) into a range of practices often
referred to by scholars as “popular” or “folk” religion. As Liu Tiksang (2003, 373) has
noted, among Hong Kong residents there is no agreed-upon name for these religious
activities, and many residents will claim not to have any religion, even though they make
offerings at temples. The word “religion” (in Cantonese jùnggaau 宗教) is reserved for the
organized religions like Christianity and Buddhism that have sacred texts, a priesthood and
an organization. But as Liu (2003, 373) notes, “To ordinary people, there is no clear
boundary between Buddhism and local religious practices.”
C.K. Yang (1961) made a useful distinction between institutional and diffuse religion.
Institutional religion “has a system of theology, rituals, and organization of its own,
independent of other secular social institutions,” while diffused religion has “its theology,
rituals, and organization intimately merged with the concepts and structure of secular
institutions and other aspects of the social order” (ibid., 20). Yang notes China had
institutional religions in the major universal religions such as Buddhism and Taoism and in
sectarian societies, and were visible because of their independent organization. “Diffused
religion, on the other hand, may be less apparent as a separate factor, but it may be very
important as an undergirding force for secular institutions and the general social order as a
whole” (Yang 1961, 295).
Many scholars of religion emphasize the importance of religion in modern societies
even when it may seem marginal. Liu Tik-sang (2003), for example, concludes his survey
of religion in Hong Kong by arguing that popular religion organizes and structures local
society: “Religious practices constitute the foundations of local social organization; they

*Email: josephbosco@cuhk.edu.hk

q 2015 The Department of Anthropology, The Chinese University of Hong Kong

 Asian Anthropology 9

are the means with which local society is organized, local people are mobilized, communal
activities are co-ordinated and people are prepared for their various stages in life” (Liu
2003, 392).
In fact, however, religious practices only structure society in rural parts of Hong Kong.
These are villages that typically have their own lineage halls or temples that act as
ceremonial and symbolic centers of the community (Faure 1986). Residents in urban areas
rarely live in neighborhoods that have a local temple. In addition, the frequent mobility of
Hong Kong residents means most have little or no tie to their neighborhood, or to their
neighbors.
As I will show below, this distinction between a structured rural religious environment
and a more amorphous pluralistic urban environment is important because it explains the
very tolerant and fluid religious environment in Hong Kong. It is precisely because
religion does not structure society that residents are not threatened by, or offended by,
alternative religious practices. Popular religion has shifted from being based primarily on
space and on residential community bonds to groups based on communities of believers, as
has been noted in Taiwan (see M. Lin 1989), or even more commonly to individual
practices that are private and not publicly visible.

Overlooked religion
Religion is also amorphous in Hong Kong because there are different definitions of
religion, i.e., different ideas about what should be included as religious. The system of
gods, ghosts, and ancestors described by A. Wolf (1974) with contrasting rituals and
offerings for each type of spirit was never quite as structured or as coherent as described,
and that there were variations across China. But with industrialization, the popular religion
that traditionally structured local society is no longer very relevant in most people’s lives.
Many practices have been simplified or abandoned. The anti-traditionalism of the May 4th
Movement and of modernizing intellectuals of the 20th century have led many to view
popular religion as mere “superstition” (màih seun 迷信). I will show below that this has
led to a significant shift in how many traditional religious practices are viewed; practices
that were once intensely local are now viewed as representing not the hosting
neighborhood but the uniqueness of Hong Kong culture more generally. Religion is thus
shifting from rituals relating to individuals’ and communities’ relationships with the
supernatural to symbols of a Hong Kong identity. When these rituals become matters of
heritage and identity, their religious dimensions become overlooked.
Several recent books on Chinese religion have sought to emphasize the central place
that religion plays in Chinese society. John Lagerwey (2010, 1) argues that “China is a
religious state and Chinese society is a religious society.” Wickeri (2011, 3) claims that
“the growth of religion is evident not only on the mainland, but in Taiwan, Hong Kong,
and Macau and in overseas Chinese communities as well.” I believe these statements are
exaggerations with regards to Hong Kong, if one thinks of religion in any concrete terms
such as belief or membership in groups. Polls often show that Hong Kong is not
particularly religious. The Gallop organization has asked people worldwide whether
religion is an important part of their lives and found Hong Kong to have one of the lowest
percentages to say yes, only 22 percent. By comparison, the median worldwide is 82
percent, and for Americans it is 65 percent (Crabtree and Pelham 2009). A 2012 Gallup
poll found that in Hong Kong, 38 percent identify as religious persons, 51 percent as not
religious, and 9 percent as convinced atheists. For comparison, the global average figures
are 59 percent religious, 23 percent not religious, and 13 percent atheist, for France 37
10 J. Bosco

percent religious, 34 percent not religious, and 29 percent atheists, and China 14 percent
religious, 30 percent not religious, and 47 percent atheists (atheism being the officially
promoted position).
Anthropologists are rightly skeptical of such polls for several reasons. Translation of
the questions is difficult, so the cross-cultural comparisons may in fact be flawed.
In addition, the very concept of “belief” is problematic (see Needham 1972); the term is
used for ideas that the researcher “knows” are wrong or illogical (e.g., “beliefs in ghosts,”
because we know ghosts do not exist). In addition, James Watson has argued that while
salvationist religions like Christianity and Islam have emphasized belief or orthodoxy
(e.g., purity of thought, and first having belief from which behavior is to flow), Chinese
religion has emphasized orthopraxy, i.e., the primacy of ritual—following the correct
rituals leads to correct thoughts and beliefs (Watson 1993).
Many in Hong Kong who follow popular religion do not view their practices as
“religion” but use the word “superstition.” For example, Ng (2009, 211) found that many
informants who consulted a shaman called themselves “superstitious” and agreed that
visiting a shaman was superstitious. Thus, there is a segment of Hong Kong’s population
that, influenced by PRC rhetoric and May 4th Modernist discourse, has stripped the
derogatory connotations from “superstition” and has internalized the term to continue
following popular religion (Goossaert 2005). This shows that though many Hong Kong
residents claim not to have any religion, they do not mean that they are irreligious or
secular in an anthropological sense.1
Thus, another reason for the overlooked nature of religion in Hong Kong is that
observers use different notions of religion. The definition of religion is fraught with
problems; I will not add to the debates and issues here. It is well understood that the
definition of religion, including taken for granted definitions, affect how we view Chinese
religion.2 It is still common to define religion, at least operationally, as “beliefs and
behavior concerning culturally postulated supernatural beings and entities” (Laidlaw and
Whitehouse 2007, 8). Many anthropologists have instead defined religion more broadly as
a cosmology. In part this follows from Needham’s (1972) critique of the concept of belief.
It also follows Geertz’ (1973, 90) famous definition of religion, which makes no mention
of beings or the supernatural but says it is “a system of symbols” that creates powerful
emotions by “formulating conceptions of a general order of existence.” Geertz also says
that this system appears realistic, which therefore means that it is not material but
culturally created.
Talal Asad (1983, 238) has argued that to the extent that religion is a historical product,
it cannot be given a universal definition. He notes how Christianity provides an unspoken
model for most writers’ definitions of religion. This is also true in China where
government definitions of religion claim that a religion must have a priesthood, sacred
texts, and an organization, a definition that excludes Chinese popular religion (or “folk”
religion) and that would exclude most of the religions studied by anthropologists. It is
important to recognize that many claims about the importance of religion, or the growth of
religion, rest on differing and changing definitions of religion.
Despite the surveys that suggest low levels of religiosity in Hong Kong, one can find
religious ideas or schema that permeate society. This religious cultural context undermines
any simple argument that Hong Kong is a secular society. Every New Year, tens of
thousands of residents go to the Wong Tai Sin Temple, the Che Kung Temple, or the Lam
Tsuen Wishing Tree to seek “good fortune.” But they represent a minority of the
population, and though their actions are reported in the media and are culturally
significant, it is misleading to point to this as a sign of Hong Kong’s high religiosity.
 Asian Anthropology 11

Religion in Hong Kong has become a personal matter, and is not predominant in social life
nor is it noticeably growing in importance overall, though it is changing and evolving.

Decline in organized religion

As a number of scholars have noted (e.g., Liu 2003, 376), religion in Hong Kong has not
preserved “traditional” forms but has been shaped by many forces during the colonial
period and continues to evolve today. Rural practices have changed because of lack of
labor, due to widespread emigration abroad and to urban migration, as well as the shift of
employment from agriculture to the industrial and service sectors. In addition, colonial
policies also constrained popular religion. Although Hong Kong is generally viewed as
having preserved religious freedom during the colonial era, this is only true when
compared with the harsh repression faced by temples on the mainland. Popular religion
has not been entirely free in Hong Kong since a system of registration was introduced in
1928. A new law in that year created the Chinese Temples Committee, suddenly asserting
government control over Chinese temples (see Lang and Ragvald 1993; Bosco 2015).
The major ceremonies such as the jiao rites of purification (held annually or every
seven, 10 or even 60 years), while still held in many rural villages, do not include most
Hong Kong residents. Many annual temple festivals celebrating a temple deity’s birthday
involve very few people. In 2013, the Tam Kung procession in Happy Valley only
involved about 80 residents (and returnees), a small fraction of the neighborhood’s 11,000
Chinese population. A few hundred came for the food distribution in the evening, and
organizers admit that very few attend the opera that is staged in a community center
nearby. A Tam Kung procession in the neighborhood of Shau Kei Wan, on the other hand,
began receiving local District Council financial support in 2010 and now attracts hundreds
of participants and thousands of spectators, but this is a new phenomenon related to
heritage creation (discussed below). Overall, few urban neighborhoods have a temple, and
even fewer have any temple festival.3
The decline in organized neighborhood festivals stems primarily from the modernist
ideology of China’s 20th-century elites. Confucian ideology was not so much “anti-
religious” as much as it was disdainful of religion. Confucians were advised to avoid
dealing with spirits, but at the same time participated in civic ceremonies (e.g., in the City
God Temple) that they knew would be interpreted by the masses as a religious ritual
(Cohen 1991). Thus, popular religion and elite Confucian ideology could coexist. It was
only with the push to modernize China, and especially with the May 4th ideology, that
anti-religious ideas became predominant among Chinese elites. In Hong Kong, Christians
were also a force ignoring popular religion, and since many schools were run by Protestant
and Roman Catholic churches, albeit with government funds, popular religion was either
ignored or portrayed as backward and “superstitious.”

Individual diffuse religion

Popular religion in Hong Kong has survived primarily as a cosmology that orients people
to the world. It is what C.K. Yang (1961) called “diffuse religion” because it has no
institutions or organization. This diffuse quality allows many Chinese to claim that they
have no religion even when they participate in rituals that outsiders, especially
anthropologists, would easily identify as “religious.” It is not uncommon to have
respondents leaving a temple claim that no, they do not have any religion, they were just at
the temple burning incense or “observing traditions.”
12 J. Bosco

Two other factors make Chinese in Hong Kong claim they have no religion. One is the
anti-traditionalism and even iconoclasm of the post May 4th Movement intellectuals,
which led to the denigration of traditional religions. Indeed, this intellectual movement
included the creation of the very concepts and terms “religion” and “supernatural” which
did not exist in pre-19th century Chinese (Goossaert 2005). Second, and perhaps only as an
extension of the first, the atheism of the Chinese Communist Party also put cultural as well
as direct political pressure on all religious activity. Although the CCP has not directly
ruled Hong Kong, migration from the mainland and other cultural influences have had
some influence in Hong Kong.
Despite these factors which make religion even more diffuse and almost invisible,
even to Hong Kong Chinese, there are many important ways that religion remains
important and relevant in contemporary urban Hong Kong.
One area we can see religion as relevant is in dealing with luck. The character ming
means both life and fate and is widely used among Chinese to explain good and bad luck
(see Harrell 1987). It includes a notion of destiny, something that a higher force has
allowed to happen, instead of something earned through individual action. Ideas about
luck lead most Hong Kong residents to pick “lucky dates” for weddings (such dates being
determined by the Eight Characters of the bride and groom according to the almanac).
In Hong Kong as in other parts of China, discussions of luck, fate and destiny are not
merely discussions of probability and random events, but presume a cosmic pattern
affected by many factors, including the flow of qi, perhaps past incarnations, as well as
ghosts, ancestors and gods. Many Chinese thus also believe that luck can change, and that
steps can be taken to induce that change. Many Hong Kong residents who do not regularly
go to temples or participate in periodic rituals go to several places in Hong Kong where it
is thought one can change one’s luck. One famous site is the Che Gong temple in Shatin in
the New Territories. It has a large wheel that one can spin to change one’s luck, and small
pinwheels are available for sale. Luck is also believed to change easily in the short term,
while destiny is something that can be known only over the long term. This allows people
to test their luck, always hoping that it will change even if they are suffering. This gives
people hope, and prevents ideas of destiny from being accepted fatalistically (Harrell
1987, 100).
Another area where we can see the continuing relevance of diffuse Chinese religion is
in the beliefs in ghosts. I have conducted research on ghost stories of The Chinese
University of Hong Kong (Bosco 2007). What strikes me when I teach about these stories
is that a significant minority of Chinese University students finds the stories truly
frightening, even horrifying. Some students are even afraid to read or hear the stories.
I explain this as reflecting the fact that ghosts are more culturally real in Chinese culture
than in American culture or in Christian theology. Though ghosts exist in American
popular culture, in mainstream Christian theology the souls of the dead do not wander the
earth (but they do sometimes in literature, as in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol). Chinese
souls, however, need to be led to the underworld through proper burial ceremonies (see
Cohen 1988), and failure to conduct the ceremonies, especially for “bad deaths” (violent
deaths and suicides) can easily result in vengeful ghosts who trouble the living. James
Watson (1998) noted that beggars on the street are given wide berth; they are living
analogs of ghosts. It is notable that youths absorb this view of ghosts without any formal
teachings, texts or examples. It is truly diffuse, and learned from parents’ and
grandparents’ statements, from popular culture, perhaps from funerals, but the students
themselves are unable to say where and how they learned about ghosts.
 Asian Anthropology 13

In all Chinese societies, it was primarily the community level rituals that were
disrupted and this created, for many, the impression that there was no religion. After the
Cultural Revolution on the Mainland, domestic worship was the first aspect of religion to
reappear, as it did not require any social coordination or public display. Family altars were
re-built in the safety of the home. In Hong Kong, family altars have remained very
common. Traditionally, a family altar would have spirit tablets to deceased ancestors, and
perhaps a statue of a deity. Some luxurious apartments have a space near the apartment
entrance that seems to be designed for such an altar. Even in families that are not fervently
religious, it is common to have a portrait of a deceased parent or spouse in a position where
an altar would go, and for flowers or fruit to be placed as symbolic offerings.
Fengshui has always had a competitive aspect, because it was zero-sum; qi that flows
to one person cannot also flow to benefit another. Anthropologists have seen fengshui as in
part a language of competition, as when brothers negotiate over the placement of a
deceased parent’s grave. Fengshui also has a collective element, as when families decide
on a grave location so as to benefit all the descendants, or when a village claims
government compensation for damages to its fengshui from the construction of a road
(J. and R. Watson 2008). With urban Hong Kong residents no longer able, in most cases, to
bury their dead (cremation is the rule; see Y. Chan, 2000), fengshui in burials has become
irrelevant. H. Chan (2011) has shown that fengshui has changed from a focus on the
orientation of graves and homes to changes in the positioning of furniture and accessories
inside apartments, in other words, adjusting those things that one has control over in urban
Hong Kong.
Most Hong Kong Chinese would not think of traditional Chinese medicine as part of
religion, but it can be seen as such, since diagnosis depends on a non-scientific (in the
modern experimental sense) cosmology. Traditional medicines that have proved to have
specific medical effects become part of scientific medicine, while herbs and medicines that
have no scientifically proven effect remain part of the traditional materia medica. As the
Hong Kong Tourism Board notes, “Traditional Chinese Medicine is an integral part of
Chinese life and the way Chinese people perceive health and treat illness. In Hong Kong,
more than a fifth of all medical consultations are made with practitioners of Chinese
medicine” (Hong Kong Tourism Board 2014b). In addition, it is common for foods to be
avoided due to their presumed effect on various medical conditions. Persons with a broken
bone or a sprained ankle should not eat sour food (like vinegar, which would discourage
the growth of bone), or spicy food like chili (which is too stimulating). Someone with a
cold should avoid poultry, especially chicken. In addition, foods can be divided into “hot”
and “cold,” culturally specific concepts that are unrelated to temperature and distinct from
similar concepts in other cultures (Weller 1983). Cold fruits and vegetables such as
watermelon and watercress should be avoided to prevent asthma since they break down the
qi in the body.
While some of the above examples of religion in matters of luck, ghosts, family altars,
and fengshui, are not recognized as religious by Hong Kong residents, there are other
overlooked religious activities that all would agree are religious. There are a variety of
spirit writing groups and private temples and halls that are not publically registered
because such religious activities contravene the Chinese Temples Committee Ordinance
ban on private temples. Ng Shuk Kwan (2009) describes an example of a local cult that
helps worshippers solve various personal problems. A woman she calls Auntie Fa runs a
small altar in her apartment in North Point in which she sees clients. Auntie Fa is the hall’s
shaman; she enters into trance and is possessed by a god, General Lok, who speaks to
clients advising them on marriage, investments, family problems, etc. Auntie Fa has a
14 J. Bosco

number of regular clients who consult General Lok because of specific problems. In the
consultation, General Lok will typically give a religious or supernatural explanation for
misfortune (e.g., business is bad because the person’s horoscope clashes with the year’s
zodiac), and in addition to offering religious solutions (e.g., charms and rituals), General
Lok usually also suggests practical solutions, e.g., hiring a designer to improve a clothing
business, or at least paying more attention to current styles by reading magazines (ibid.
135 –136). Ng (ibid. 213 –223) notes that most older clients take for granted the existence
of souls, spirits and the supernatural realm, while younger clients educated in Hong Kong
are more aware of the contradiction between the shaman’s world and the rationality they
were taught in school. Most explain General Lok’s power by saying that there are two
worlds, the supernatural and the mundane physical worlds, and that science cannot explain
all even in the physical world. In addition, many claim that their experience of General
Lok’s potency has dispelled any skepticism they began with.
This world of shamanism remains hidden to most outsiders; clients find Auntie Fa
through word of mouth, and the shrine is technically illegal (and could be closed down if
any neighbor were to complain to the police of the noise or smell of incense). Many of the
clients would have told pollsters that they do not believe in religion; because the shrine is
not part of official Buddhism, many would not consider this to be part of religion.

Diversity of religion in Hong Kong

Hong Kong has no government department in charge of religious affairs, nor does popular
religion have an organization that manages religion or decides on scriptures (Liu 2003,
373 –4). The Anglican Church (Sheng Kung Hui 聖公會) and Roman Catholic Church are
the largest religious organizations and run many churches, schools, and other charities, but
Christians of all denominations represent only about 10 percent of Hong Kong’s
population. Muslims make up less than 4 percent, and half of them are Indonesian
domestic helpers. Thus, organized religion in Hong Kong is small and fragmented.
Still, there are numerous holidays that mark the annual cycle and that have what most
would recognize as religious meanings. There are at least three occasions during the year
when Hong Kong families are said to assemble for a meal, and two times for care of the
dead. Most important, as for all Chinese, is the Lunar New Year, when families try to be
together. The following days are used to visit affines (specifically the wife’s parents) and
friends (a form of visiting that has a specific name in Chinese, baai nı̀hn 拜年). Many
practices surround the new year, from the issuing of bonuses and settling of debts before
the new year, to the concentration of weddings before the new year. The Mid-Autumn
Festival (15th of the 8th lunar month) and the winter solstice (known in Cantonese as dùng
ji 冬至) are also traditionally a time for Cantonese family reunions, centering around a
common meal. On both days, offices close early to allow everyone to go home to prepare
the meals. Still, commercial pressures being what they are, restaurants do a thriving
business during all these holidays, and very few close for more than the one day of New
Year’s Day. Hong Kong families also gather together on April 5th each year for Ching
Ming, and on the 9th day of the 9th lunar month (chùhng yèuhng 重陽, usually in October)
to sweep the graves and make offerings to the dead.
In addition, many television programs and movies tell religious stories and help create
for viewers a sense of verisimilitude for a common religious culture. Many Hong Kong
informants cite movies and television series as sources of information on deities. For
example, Ng (2009, 150) mentions an 18-year old student who knew the story of Guanyin,
the Goddess of Mercy (Gùn Yàm in Cantonese), from the 1997 hit drama series “Journey to
 Asian Anthropology 15

the West.” While presented (and intended) as entertainment, such shows also help inform
Hong Kong people of religious concepts and mythology.

The rise of Buddhism

Another place we can see the rise of a more individualized religion is in the rise of
Buddhism in Hong Kong.4 Buddhism has always had a presence, but it has become
stronger since the Handover. Under British rule, the Queen’s Birthday was a holiday
celebrated on the second Monday in June. Buddhist organizations lobbied to have that
changed to “Buddha’s Birthday,” which is celebrated on the 8th day of the 4th lunar
month, usually in mid-May to mid-June. The Po Lin Monastery on Lantau Island has also
expanded greatly in the run-up to the Handover, with the giant bronze statue of Buddha
completed in 1993 by a Mainland armaments maker as a favor to Hong Kong.
A number of Buddhist organizations have flourished since the 1990s. Most prominent
is the Chi Lin Nunnery (志蓮淨苑) in Diamond Hill, Kowloon, which was inaugurated in
1999. The temples were built in a Tang dynasty style and with the traditional system of
interlocking wood that avoids using any metal nails. The government gave management of
an adjacent park to the nunnery, which has transformed it into a Buddhist garden. The
construction of the nunnery was a popular cause among movie stars, who organized a
series of fundraisers for the “traditional” architecture (even though Hong Kong has never
had such architecture, and it is said that much of the inspiration for the temples actually
came from Japan, where the Tang dynasty style is best preserved). Chi Lin is popular for
evening classes on Buddhism. It attracts large numbers of middle-aged Hong Kong
residents who may have gone to Christian schools, some of whom even once converted to
Christianity, but who now feel they want to search for a more Chinese spirituality.
Buddhism has long been viewed as higher in status than Daoism in China (Lagerwey 2010,
10 –11). In Hong Kong, Buddhism is considered a Chinese religion rather than Indian.
In addition, Taiwanese Buddhist organizations (in particular Foguang Shan, Ciji
Gongdehui, and Dharma Drum Mountain) have elaborated on the idea of “lay Buddhism”
first developed in the early 20th century by the monk Taixu, rebranding Buddhism so that
it is not associated with “superstition.” Their head monks have regularly visited Hong
Kong and given lectures to thousands of people, gradually raising the prestige of
Buddhism in Hong Kong. Survey research and ethnographic research has suggested that
there has been a gradual increase in people identifying as Buddhist since the 1990s (Cheng
and Wong 1997; Pong 2007).

Religion, heritage and politics

Augé (1995) has written about place as being “historical, relational, and concerned with
identity.” But under “supermodernity,” more and more of Hong Kong is a non-place.
People move to different neighborhoods because of convenience to work, access to public
transport, and considerations of cost. Most Hong Kong residents have little neighborhood
loyalty or identity.
Religion, in a sense, is about sacred space, or about individuals’ attempts to sacralize
space. Individuals seek a sacred space when they go to the Chi Lin Nunnery for
meditation, or to the major temples like Wong Tai Sin or to public sites, like the Lam
Tsuen Wishing Tree, to seek luck for themselves and their family. The idea of the sacred
neighborhood space that was once represented and protected by a local temple has
virtually disappeared in urban Hong Kong, surviving in a few places only as historical
16 J. Bosco

remnants. At the same time, a sense of all of Hong Kong as sacred space that needs to be
protected by identity politics is increasingly prominent. The attempt to preserve Hong
Kong’s distinctiveness, its culture, its rule of law and journalistic freedom, and preventing
Hong Kong from becoming “just another Chinese city,” is increasingly important in the
territory, and is expressed both in popular protests as well as through government
programs such as tourism promotion.
The Tourism Board’s website lists 15 examples of “Living Culture” under “Culture
and Heritage.” Eleven of the 15 can be said to be religious in some sense (Cheung Chau
Bun Festival, Chinese Medicine, Chinese Opera, Dragon and Lion Dance Extravaganza,
Feng Shui, The Hungry Ghost Festival, Petty Person Beating, Tai Chi, Tai Hang Fire
Dragon dance, The Dragon Boat Water Parade of Tai O, and Wishing Trees and Tin Hau
Temple at Lam Tsuen) (Hong Kong Tourism Board 2014a).5 By being on the list, these
practices are promoted by the Tourism Board. Some, like the Bun Festival, the Fire
Dragon, Dragon Boat Parade and Wishing Tree are events that spectators, including
tourists, can go to see. All are examples of religious ideas diffused in Hong Kong culture.
One additional comment needs to be made about “beating the petty person,” dá sı́u
yàhn. This custom is often the focus of international journalists seeking to identify
specifically Hong Kong practices. CNBC devoted a segment on the practice in June 2009
during their “Hong Kong Week.” The custom involves older female practitioners using a
shoe to beat a paper doll that represents the evil spirits that are claimed to be causing
problems to their clients. The practice has been likened to voodoo. This practice cannot be
generalized to all of Hong Kong, or be made to represent Hong Kong religion. There are
only a few practitioners, and very few Hong Kong residents have ever consulted them.
Many Hong Kong people have heard of the two women who perform this ritual under the
Canal Street flyover in Wanchai precisely because it is unusual and so gets reported in the
newspapers. Most people I have spoken to consider the practice a bit peculiar; it cannot be
thought of as representative of Chinese or Hong Kong religious culture. It is tolerated, like
all religious practices, because no one is offended by it or has any reason to attack or
criticize it. It is generally viewed as marginal, an unusual practice that only attracts a small
number of people.
Increasingly, customs like fengshui have multiple meanings. They are seen as useful
practices to avoid bad luck but also as slightly embarrassing leftovers of traditional
culture. They are also seen as items of heritage that define Hong Kong and make it
different both from “the West” and from mainland China, where such traditions were
destroyed by communism. They are what Herzfeld (2005, 3) has called “cultural
intimacy,” which he defines as “the recognition of those aspects of a cultural identity that
are considered a source of external embarrassment but that nevertheless provide insiders
with their assurance of common sociality.” Fengshui has often been criticized by
modernizing Chinese elites, yet it is also said that most construction and many design
projects still take its principles under consideration, and that in many cases a fengshui
master is actually consulted as part of the planning. In Herzfeld’s original formulation, the
nation-state plays a critical role in the creation of the society’s identity, and while a state
role is less obvious in Hong Kong, we do see the government’s Tourism Board advertising
fengshui as part of Hong Kong heritage (Hong Kong Tourism Board 2014a).
Herzfeld also notes that ideas about “the West” are important in shaping cultural
intimacy, and the assumption of a rational “West” that does not believe in fengshui creates
the discomfort and embarrassment of the practice. The embarrassment comes from
outsiders seeing Hong Kong’s “dirty laundry,” which is how many people view the
practice of fengshui. Hong Kong residents are both proud of fengshui as an ancient
 Asian Anthropology 17

Chinese mystical practice (and effective, according to many), but at the same time
embarrassed about its non-rational and non-scientific nature. But like all cultural
intimacies, it is part of Hong Kong’s identity, and the fact that there are fengshui masters
practicing openly in Hong Kong, appearing on television, and selling their books, helps
contrast Hong Kong from the mainland, where such public practice is forbidden or at least
hidden. Thus, religious practices that were once denigrated and overlooked in Hong Kong
are now becoming heritage, sources of Hong Kong identity and even pride, at the same
time that they are recognized as a bit unusual by Hong Kong’s westernized standards. And
by being defined as heritage, they are not seen as religious.
The move to identify heritage that makes Hong Kong special and different from
the mainland also includes religious processions. The Fire Dragon procession is a
neighborhood procession in Tai Hang, on Hong Kong island. The neighborhood was once
a Hakka village,6 and the procession involves carrying a dragon made of rattan covered
with straw through the streets of the neighborhood. Sticks of incense are stuck into the
rope-like body, and the whole 67-meter-long body is held aloft on 32 poles. The fire
dragon procession began in 1880 as a healing rite to end an attack of the plague, and has
continued annually to commemorate its miraculous cure. The procession of the dragon is
intended to rid Tai Hang of uncleanliness and evil spirits, and as in many cleansing
ceremonies, the head of the dragon is thrown into the harbor at Causeway Bay at the end of
the ceremony.
In 2013, the procession was extended outside of the neighborhood into Victoria Park,
where the government had organized a carnival for the Mid-Autumn Festival that featured
a variety of cultural activities, including (according to the government’s Leisure and
Cultural Services Department poster), “Spectacular performances by Sichuan Arts
Troupe, ethnic songs and dance, acrobatics and Chinese folk craft.” Thus, a neighborhood
religious rite of purification that also symbolized ethnic community identity is becoming
transformed into a cultural heritage program that expresses traditional Hong Kong culture,
and is placed alongside other Chinese regional cultural heritage. For the core Tai Hang
members who organize the procession, the religious meaning is essential. They express
this in interviews to journalists, and in the fact that the procession begins at the Lin Fa
Temple and follows the logic of many Daoist cleansing ceremonies. But for thousands of
Hong Kong residents and tourists who come to see the procession, it represents traditional
Hong Kong cultural heritage and has no religious meaning.
As mentioned above, the British administration worked with local Chinese elites to
limit the influence of religion in Hong Kong, mostly for political reasons. The Chinese
Temples Committee prevented temples from becoming established, and made it difficult
for existing temples to expand. The Christians were allowed to run schools and provide
charity, but Christian labor activists were often banned from Hong Kong. Recently,
however, religious groups have begun mobilizing politically. Pro-government Buddhist
groups speak out against pro-democracy groups and have organized processions urging the
government to act against Falun Gong (further discussed below). A conservative Christian
group, The Society For Truth And Light (明光社) has sought to influence public policy
and popular opinion through legal action and public protests. According to the slogan on
its website (www.truth-light.org.hk) in November 2014, it seeks to “promote life ethics
and address unhealthy social trends (關注生命倫理, 正視社會歪風).” It has become well
known for its anti-gay and anti-abortion stands, and comments on many social issues.
In opposition to it is the Blessed Minority Christian Fellowship (基恩之家) (www.bmcf.
org.hk), founded in 1992 by a number of Hong Kong gay Christians. It has supported the
LGBT movement in Hong Kong, also with references to the Bible.
18 J. Bosco

The Hong Kong Roman Catholic Church (天主教香港教區) also occasionally

comments on political matters. It has supported the movement for universal suffrage for
the election of the Chief Executive, and Cardinal Joseph Zen is an important opinion
leader in the pan-democratic camp. Other Chinese Religions groups, like the Hong Kong
Daoist Association (香港道教聯合會) and the Hong Kong Buddhist Association (香港佛
教聯合會), are pro-establishment while Protestant Christian and Catholic groups tend to
be pro-democratic.
Of minor importance in terms of numbers, but of great symbolic importance, is the
Falun Gong. This religious group is banned in the Mainland, but maintains its freedom in
Hong Kong. Its members not only practice and proselytize, they also protest against
religious repression of fellow members on the Mainland. Their ongoing ability to assemble
and protest in Hong Kong is a sign of the continuation of Hong Kong’s autonomy under
the “One Country, Two Systems” formula. At the same time, pro-establishment groups
such as the Hong Kong Youth Care Association Limited (香港青年關愛協會) have been
organized (apparently with Mainland funds) to protest against Falun Gong and to press the
government to ban the group as an evil sect. The Association is not itself religious, but
claims to be patriotic in its attacks on Falun Gong.

Conclusion
C.K. Yang (1961, 294) explained the less prominent or observable nature of Chinese
religion as due to its “diffused” character, in contrast to institutional religion such as
Christianity. Elements that we would recognize as religious were embedded in other parts
of society and culture, from family life to rites of transition, and were not independent
institutions. Furthermore, popular religious ideas came from multiple traditions, with none
dominant or, indeed, insisting on primacy or unitary truth. Conscious syncretism (not the
ordinary syncretism that makes all cultural phenomena a combination of other prior
phenomena) has been a part of Chinese religion.
In addition, colonial rule and industrialization have brought additional changes that
have undermined the agricultural and village community bases of traditional Chinese
popular religion. Mobility and individualization can be said to be taking Chinese popular
religion even more in the “diffuse” direction, in that previous community rituals have been
abandoned and religion increasingly becomes a matter of individual spirituality.
Whether or not religion is still important in Hong Kong depends on how we define
“religion.” If by religion we include all the symbolic and spiritual aspects of life, then
religion is indeed important. Contemporary religion is, however, in a “diffuse” form,
underpinning ordinary conceptions of being and of reality, not organized like Islam or
Christianity, and also not communally organized as was traditional village religion. Hong
Kong itself is increasingly coming to be seen as sacred, and is the focus of many residents
efforts, be it to protect its heritage or to protect its morals and identity. Religion in this
symbolic, cosmological sense is very much alive and growing, even if few Hong Kong
residents go to temples or consider themselves religious.

Notes
1. Note too that “superstition” is not a social scientific concept. Anthropologists have criticized the
notion of “superstition” because it cannot be separated from religion and many other beliefs (see
e.g., Feuchtwang 1989).
2. For discussions on the definition of religion, see Geertz (1973), Asad (1983), Saler (1993), and
Klass (1995). On the changing definition of religion in China, see Goossaert and Palmer 2011.
3. Another example is the Tai Kok Tsui Temple Fair in Mong Kok, which holds a festival to Hung
Sheng, a god of the sea, on the 13th of the second lunar month; see www.tkttemplefair.org.hk.
 Asian Anthropology 19

4. This section on Buddhism in Hong Kong is largely based on Pong (2007).

5. The others are Chinese Tea, Flag-raising Ceremony at Golden Bauhenia Square, Horse Racing,
and the Noon Day Gun. It could be argued that even these examples include religious
dimensions, from the medical humeral views on tea, to aspects of luck and fate surrounding
horse racing, and the nation as sacred territory and unity in the nationalist ceremonies on Golden
Bauhenia Square.
6. The Hakka are a Chinese ethnic group.

Notes on contributor
Joseph BOSCO 林舟 is Associate Professor in the Dept. of Anthropology, The Chinese University of
Hong Kong. He holds a PhD from Columbia University (1989). His research interests include
economic anthropology (development, the rise of consumerism in China, the environment and risk),
religion, and the cultural shaping of rationality.

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