Perry, Elizabeth. “Rebels Meet Revolutionaries: The Communist Movement in Huai-pei” pp. 208-247 in Rebels and Revolutionaries in North China, 1845-1945 (1980)

In chapter six’s opening paragraph, Elizabeth Perry poses a series of questions concerning the relationship between battle-hardened peasants and the Chinese communist movement in the early twentieth century. She introduces her work by asking how these groups would relate: would they join forces or stand at odds with one another? Would peasants, who were so accustomed to fighting for their local interests, support or impede the efforts of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to reform the country on a national level? It appears, as she introduces us to a multitude of peasant organizations, that Perry believes it depends on the interests of each group. Reactions will vary by organization because there are too many complexities of circumstance.

For instance, the CCP was most interested in gaining the help of the Red Spears society, which had millions of armed supporters and could thus have a heavy impact on the revolution. Although the CCP disliked the religious practices and other aspects of the Red Spears, they were willing to ignore those for the sake of the greater communist good. However, the Red Spears were totally loyal to their rich landlords of Honan (who sought to maintain their power and wealth), which sat at odds with the communist call for peasants to overthrow corrupt landlords. Potential for an alliance disintegrated over this issue, and even led to violence between the two groups.

So the communist party focused instead on the Bare Eggs society. Unlike the Red Spears, the Bare Eggs were what Perry calls a “predatory” organization, one made up of poor, unemployed members who suffer under that status quo. The Red Spears and others were “defensive” organizations, opposing redistribution of wealth. Therefore, Perry concludes, the CCP had much greater success with predatory groups. Indeed, the Bare Eggs sent hundreds of troops to join the Red Army.

Other barriers to CCP efforts included the Divine Strike Corps, which became a communist enemy because of suggested land reforms. The two sides also differed on their attitudes toward bandits. The communists wanted any allies they could get to battle the invading Japanese (though overall the bandits mostly posed a barrier to CCP success in the region), but the Divine Strike Corps opposed all bandits and aimed to punish and destroy them. Communist efforts at reorganizing bandits therefore displeased both the Divine Strike Corps and the bandits themselves.

The CCP did have some success when they realized that defensive (or “protector”) groups were more receptive to communist ideas. Groups like the Big Swords joined their side. However, Perry concludes by saying old forms of peasant violence were the greatest obstacle to communist success. They were able to have limited success with protective groups and great success with predatory ones. Essentially it was the preexisting interests of each group that determined if they would help the CCP, whether those be political, social or economic reasons, or something as simple as security.

I find it interesting that such a complex web of alliances, so to speak, developed. With warlords, landlords, communists, nationalists, bandits, the Japanese, protective societies, predatory societies and individuals all fighting and scrambling for support, if one allies with another group he is sure to inadvertently make a few new enemies.

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Dutt, Vidya Prakash. “The First Week of Revolution” p. 383-416 in China in Revolution: The First Phase, 1900-1913 (1968)

In chapter 9 of China in Revolution, Vidya Prakash Dutt describes the events of the Wuchang Uprising, which kick-started the Revolution of 1911. The author’s thesis is that the New Army was instrumental in the success of the rebellion; without army membership the effort would have certainly failed. Dutt’s purpose is to illuminate the steps taken that led to the army playing a major role in the conflict, and to reveal how that fact makes this rebellion distinct and remarkably successful. The chapter introduces rebels leaders, from the initial organizer Huang Hsing to the reluctant leader Li Yuan-hung, and chronicles the formation of groups that organized the movement, such as the Literary Institute. It also mentions multiple failed rebellions that preceded the one in Wuchang.

The author then describes the beginning and the end of the violence in Wuchang, when the republican forces wrestle control away from Qing soldiers. The differences Dutt found between this conflict and previous ones from China’s history are startling. Secret societies did not play a large role, power in Wuhan was given to an assembly made up of constitutionalists without republican leanings, and the army began crushing the Manchu city by city, until even the capital fell. It fascinating to note that low ranking soldiers, not their commanders, instigated the revolution. Dutt’s sources, according to the footnotes, include multiple autobiographies of participants and other documents provided by the victors, but also many biographies and secondary works written in the 1940s by various scholars. Based on the evidence provided and the excellent, straightforward writing, the author makes a convincing case.

I find it ironic that the Manchu almost bring about their own destruction. They send many students, such as Wu Lu-chen, to Japan for military education, where the students are exposed to radical, revolutionary ideas. The desire to survive in a modernizing, industrializing world will eventually come back to haunt the Qing leaders. I find that to be quite humorous.

I was struck by the fact that the rebels aimed to turn over power to those who were not even revolutionaries. To me, that is unheard of and somewhat counterintuitive. I understand that they needed a well-known leader, someone who could turn public opinion in favor of the rebels, but still. Li Yuan-hung was so hesitant and uncooperative; I am surprised the army continued pushing him into the leadership role for as long as they did. His conversion from a puppet to the actual leader of the Hupeh Military Government is equally fascinating, and something I would like to study further. Dutt does not go into much detail on how he changes his mind and begins working for the republican cause. To me this seems like a missing piece of the puzzle in Dutt’s narrative.

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Debary, Theodore and Lutrano, Richard. “Moderate Reform and the Self-strengthening Movement” p. 233-249 in Sources of Chinese Tradition: From 1600 through the 20th Century (2000)

In chapter 30 of Debary and Lutrano’s work, the authors offer several excerpts from primary sources to introduce the debate over whether China should embrace Western learning and modernization. Arguments for the self-strengthening movement come from officials who witnessed the Taiping Rebellion first-hand or leaders of provisional armies that brought the revolution down, such as Zeng Guofan and Li Hongzhang. These men saw the weakness of the Qing state during that rebellion, other revolts, and throughout two Opium wars; it was logical they would feel the need for reforms to bring China back to glory. Opposition arose from orthodox Confucians in the Qing court like Grand Secretary Woren, who argued that learning Western ideas of mathematics and astronomy would corrupt the Chinese people and would fail to strengthen the state. Though the courts knew as well as the generals how badly European powers could outgun them, they were more hesitant to modernize because Western education might replace traditional studies.

However, it seems to me that Woren, in his “Principle Versus Practicality” opposition to the self-strengthening movement, omitted that Westernizing threatens the power of men of the courts like him more than it might threaten traditional Confucian learning. Woren’s arguments come across as muddled, incoherent, and unconvincing. He begins by claiming mathematics itself is a noble subject, but turns around and says two sentences later that if Westerners teach it to the Chinese, the damage will be great. Is not math the same no matter who teaches it? He claims that there is no way mathematics can strengthen a nation during a period of weakness.

He then immediately and inexplicably jumps to Christianity and declares that his people are ignorant if they believe in Christ. His argument is weak and disjointed, which stands in stark contrast to the logic and reasonable tone of Feng Guifen, who suggests making Confucianism the foundation and building upon it using the example of foreign powers. Does Woren honestly believe that mathematics cannot benefit China? Does he bring up Christianity just to use a hated group to prompt sympathy from his audience? He is trying to link Christians with the self-strengtheners, make them one enemy, when they are not. Perhaps the subtext of Woren’s speech is that Woren sees Western teachings a threat to his power, as leader of the Confucian court. Perhaps, like a sorcerer might do, a Westerner could just as easily disrupt the government’s mandate to rule. Woren claims that nontraditional teachings will prompt the Chinese to ally with foreigners, barbarians. Woren might fear that what begins in education, a slow seeping-in of the West’s influence, might just spread upwards and infect administration and government. So he stands against reform. Those with power will usually try to maintain the status quo.

What struck me as especially odd about Woren’s opposition is when he claims that Christianity has fooled half the people. If I recall correctly, Christianity did not see conversion in such numbers in China. Is Woren simply exaggerating for effect, or is he misinformed?

Overall, an intriguing read. I have a bit of background knowledge on the industrialization of Britain, the rest of Europe, Russia, and the United States. I was aware that China began to fall behind in the nineteenth century, and I had been very curious as to why. This battle over whether or not modernization meant turning against Confucian teachings and traditions provides the answer.

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Kuhn, Philip. “The Roots of Sorcery Fear” p. 94-118 in Kuhn’s “Soulstealers – The Chinese Sorcery Scare of 1768”

In chapter five of his book, Philip Kuhn aims to examine the fears that existed in ancient China that preceded the panic of 1768. He describes the chapter as an exploration of Chinese sorcery in connection with the soulstealing crisis. Kuhn’s thesis is that two distinct fears existed that ensured chaos would stem from both the upper classes and lower classes of society simultaneously. The first fear, experienced by the common man, was that evil sorcerers would steal one’s soul. A natural event such as trauma could also sever the fragile bond between body and soul, but it was the terror of the supernatural that would be the spark for the great panic. The second fear, held by the imperial elites, was that sorcerers would disrupt the bond between the elites and the heavenly powers, weakening or destroying their mandate to rule. Like the popular fears, natural events could also bring about such things, but were not the primary concern.

Kuhn’s argument seeks to explain the coming crisis. These fears are the roots of the crazed witch-hunt and mass lynching in 1768. According to him, there is yet no detailed study of Chinese sorcery, so Kuhn is truly blazing his own trail in this book, rather than arguing against other scholars or building on previous research. Indeed, the reader will note no reference to other modern scholars within this text. Kuhn builds a convincing case from the ground up, detailing Chinese beliefs in the biodynamic powers of sorcerers, rituals of soul-calling, the use of charms and amulets to save one’s soul, and preexisting suspicions that builders, beggars, the clergy, and strangers in general were involved in black magic. He then dives into how these beliefs formed the two structures of fear than drove people to paranoia. He uses direct quotes from Dutch sinologue J. J. M. de Groot, Henri DorÈ, and writings of Chinese charms and counter-charms from the period. The exhaustive evidence presented powerfully supports Kuhn’s argument.

I had some knowledge of Chinese beliefs on the severability of body and soul, as it has been a basis for their religious beliefs involving honoring and worshiping ancestors for centuries. I found the stories at the beginning of the chapter most interesting; they served as an excellent hook and introduction to the topic. He also weaved those stories into his work here and there, making connections I had not considered. I was very interested in the body-soul connection to the well-known belief of yin and yang.

I was most surprised by the concept of involuntary soul-loss. That was unexpected. The idea that a sudden fright could make one’s soul break from its body was fascinating. Heavenly spirits and vengeful ghosts, along with the results of soul-loss (illness, sleeplessness, madness, death, etc.) were also aspects of this topic that captured my attention. The concept of involuntary soul-loss was not the main fear that led to the panic of 1768, but its belief was just as strong as the idea that evil men would steal one’s soul. It served to support and exacerbate the approaching chaos.

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