The Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864) was a devastating conflict in China between a growing Christian sect under Hong Xiuquan (1815-1864) and the Qing Dynasty government (1644-1911) that resulted in the deaths of over ten million people. Opinions differ as to whether this was a religious or political war, and while elements of both are generally agreed to be involved, an understanding of the overwhelming significance of religion’s role seems nonexistent. While the political forces within Hong’s “God Worshippers” did want to solve the internal turmoil in China, and certainly influenced events, the Taiping Rebellion was a religious war. It was more the influence of the West, not the problems at home, that sparked the violence. While many revolutions had occurred before this with no Christian influence, examining the viewpoint of the God Worshippers and the viewpoint of Qing militia leader Zeng Guofan (1811-1872) will make it exceedingly clear that without the influence of Western religion, the Taiping Rebellion never would have occurred.

From the point of view of Hong Xiuquan, religion was at the heart of everything he did. The origins of his faith and his individual actions immediately after his conversion explain his later choices and those of his followers during the rebellion. According to Chinese scholar R. Keith Schoppa, Hong had a vision he was vanquishing demons throughout the universe, under orders from men whom Hong later determined to be God and Jesus Christ. Hong believed that Christ was his older brother and Hong was thus “God’s Chinese son” (71). Hong studied “Good Works to Exhort the Age,” in which Christian author Liang Fa emphasized that his own conversion stemmed partly from the need to be pardoned of sin and partly from a desire to do good deeds to combat evil and eradicate it from his life (Cheng, Lestz 135). Reading Liang’s writings after the life-changing vision brought Hong to Christianity. It is essential to note that, as Schoppa puts it, “In his comprehension of the vision, Hong did not immediately see any political import” (71). All Hong was concerned about at this point was faith, not the Manchu (Qing) overlords. He was so impassioned he would “antagonize his community by destroying statues of gods in the local temple” (Schoppa 71). What Hong would have done with his life had he not become a Christian is impossible to say. He had repeatedly failed China’s all-important civil service examination; perhaps he would have taken up farming like his father (Schoppa 71).

Instead, he formed the God Worshipping Society. According to Schoppa, certain groups that joined declared the demons in Hong’s vision were the Manchu, and had to be vanquished (72). It was outside influences that politicized Hong’s beliefs. Yet even through the politicization one will see that at the heart of the matter is religion. The very society Hong wished to create was based on Christian ideals. Equality of men and women led to both sexes receiving equal land in Hong’s 1853 land system, the faith’s sense of community led to familial units with shared treasuries, and church was required on the Sabbath day and for wedding ceremonies (Schoppa 73). Christianity brought about the outlawing of much urban vice as well, such as drinking and adultery. One might argue that behind all these Christian ideological policies were long-held Confucian beliefs. According to the 1838 work “Qian Yong on Popular Religion,” eradicating gambling, prostitution, drugs, etc. was just as important to the elites and literati (those who have passed the civil service examination) as it was to Hong (Cheng, Lestz 129-131).

While there were indeed heavy Confucian influences on Hong’s teachings (evidenced by their Confucian adaptations to the Ten Commandments and the proceeding hymns found in Cheng and Lestz’s “The Crisis Within”), Schoppa makes it clear that “the Taiping Revolution was a potent threat to the traditional Chinese Confucian system” because it provided people with a personal God rather than simply the force of nature, Heaven (75). The social policies that emerged from Hong’s Christian ideals, like familial units and laws governing morality led Schoppa to declare, “It is little wonder that some Chinese…might have begun to feel their cultural identity and that of China threatened by the Heavenly Kingdom” (76). The point is, Hong never would have become a leader of the God Worshippers had Western Christianity not entered his life, and even after his growing group decided to overthrow the Manchu, the system of life they were fighting for and hoping to establish was founded on Christian beliefs. Just as Hong smashed down idols in his hometown after his conversion, so everywhere the God Worshippers advanced they destroyed Confucian relics, temples, and altars (Cheng, Lestz 148). The passion of Hong became the passion of all.

On the other side of the coin, it was also the opinion of the Manchu government that this was a religious war. As the God Worshippers grew in number, Schoppa writes, “The Qing government recognized the threat as serious: A Christian cult had militarized and was now forming an army” (72). Right away, the Manchu identified this as a religious rebellion. “It was the Taiping ideology and its political, social, and economic systems making up the Taiping Revolution that posed the most serious threat to the regime” (Schoppa 73). This new threat prompted the Qing to order administrator Zeng Guofan to create militia units and destroy the Taipings. “The Crisis Within” contains his “Proclamation Against the Bandits of Guangdong and Guangxi” from 1854. Aside from calling attention to the barbarism of the rebels, Zeng writes with disgust about Christianity and its “bogus” ruler and chief ministers. He mocks their sense of brotherhood, the teachings of Christ, and the New Testament (Cheng, Lestz 147). Zeng declares, “This is not just a crisis for our [Qing] dynasty, but the most extraordinary crisis of all time for the Confucian teachings, which is why our Confucius and Mencius are weeping bitterly in the nether world” (Cheng, Lestz, 148). Then, in regards to the destruction of Confucian temples and statues, Zeng proclaims that the ghosts and spirits have been insulted and want revenge, and it is imperative that the Qing government enacts it (Cheng, Lestz 148). This rhetoric is not concerning politics and government, Manchu or anti-Manchu. Zeng makes it obvious what he aims to destroy and why. He views the rebellion as an affront to Confucianism. The Christians, he believes, must be struck down.

With the leader’s life defined by Christianity, with a rebellious sect’s social structure based on Christianity, with the continued destruction of Confucian works in the name of Christianity, and with the government’s aim to crush the rebellion in the name of Confucius and Mencius, can anyone rationally argue that the Taiping Rebellion was not a religious war? A consensus should now be reached! The rebellion’s brutality and devastation is a tragedy when one considers the similar teachings of both sides of the conflict, the Confucian call for peaceful mediation of conflicts and the Christian commandment not to kill. The Taiping hymn that accompanies the Christian sixth commandment says, “The whole world is one family, and all men are brethren / How can they be permitted to kill and destroy one another? / The outward form and the inward principle are both conferred by Heaven / Allow everyone, then, to enjoy the ease and comfort which he desires” (Cheng, Lestz 142).

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References

Cheng, Pei-kai, Michael Lestz, and Jonathan D. Spence, eds. The Search for Modern China, (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 128-149.

Schoppa, R. Keith. Revolution and its Past (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2011), 71-76.

If your homeland were conquered by a foreign power, which would you expect: your occupier to force its foreign tongue upon you or to adopt your language and operate its new government under it? Language is a powerful cultural identifier. For the Manchu people that conquered Ming Dynasty China and established the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) in the seventeenth century, language was the most important factor in establishing the legitimacy of their rule. Careful analysis of Evelyn Rawski’s “Reenvisioning the Qing” reveals the Manchu sought to preserve and spread their own language and embrace the language identity of the Han Chinese, with intriguing historic consequences. Whether or not this possibly counterproductive policy helped or hurt the Manchu maintain their empire is ready for examination.

The Manchu had a history of interesting language interaction before seizing China. According to Rawski, “Mongol allies were vital to the Manchu conquest. Since these alliances were usually cemented by marriage exchanges, early Qing emperors claimed Mongol as well as Manchu ancestry. Mongolian and Manchu were the primary languages during the crucial conquest decades before 1644” (834). Even before they took Beijing, the Manchu were accustomed to adopting other tongues and sharing their own. Rawski calls attention to “the ability of the Manchus to bind warriors from a variety of cultural backgrounds to their cause” (834). Language was key to their success. Perhaps the ease of which the Manchu allowed a mutual exchange of language served as a precedent for their seemingly contradictory policies in China.

When the Qing Dynasty began, the Manchu immediately set to work dispelling the view that they were foreigners and establishing themselves as acceptable rulers. “The adoption of Ming state rituals was a crucial way for Manchu rulers to assert their legitimacy by linking themselves to the former legitimate imperial state” (Schoppa, 32). Religious, political, and household rituals were included. Rawski claims “the determination of the rulers to present themselves to their Chinese subjects as Confucian monarchs is evident in their acquisition of Chinese” (834). Among adoption of other Confucian rituals, the Manchu made a point to learn the Chinese language. As the empire expanded, so the embracing of local language increased. The Qianlong emperor of the eighteenth century spoke Manchu, Chinese, Mongolian, Uighur, and Tibetan, and declared these to be the official state languages (Rawski, 835). Rawski notes, “The emperor commissioned translations, dictionary compilations, and other projects to promote each language” (835). It is evident that the Manchu leaders wished to make the tongues of Han China a part of their own identity.

On the other side of the coin, they also aimed to preserve and teach Manchu. Rawski writes, “Northeastern peoples like the Daur, who had no written language of their own, learned Manchu” (836). The Manchu encouraged use of native languages throughout China, but here one sees the Manchu also sought to spread their own. The Daur, Ewenk and Oroqen eventually spoke and wrote Manchu script (Rawski, 836). The Manchu also sought to teach their language to allied leaders residing in the capitol: “Living in Peking, surrounded by the splendors of Han Chinese culture, they developed in the eighteenth century a definition of Manchu identity that stressed…fluency in the Manchu language” (Rawski, 838). Furthermore, the Manchu had many works translated into their tongue, and kept their government records and history in Manchu.

To the casual observer, it would seem that employing both strategies—preserving Manchu and embracing Chinese languages—would prove counterproductive. One might think that the Manchu should have required the use of their tongue in an effort to solidify their rule, or perhaps one would expect the Manchu to give up their language altogether to fully “sinicize,” to blend into Chinese culture. After all, its writing system was indeed in its infancy, having just been created by Nurgaci and his son Hongtaiji (Rawski, 840). One could make the case that sinicization would have been more complete had they let their native tongue die out. However, the Manchu maintaining their language and encouraging native languages established a balance of power that was the key to preserving their rule. It allowed them to demonstrate the legitimacy of their rule and hold a multiethnic together.

While the Manchu did not only spread their language, rituals and traditions (such as mounted archery) do not create a balance of power. Language is key. What better way to show the Han people that life can resume as normal after a hostile takeover than to allow the people the right to continue, and even spread, their own language? Other empires of history have not shown the same wisdom. Additionally, holding on to Manchu within government circles and using it to fill in the gaps of literacy (as noted before, with the tribes on the outer regions), carefully allows the invaders to preserve their identity. It distinguishes them, yes, but not in a way harmful to their rule, not in a way that marks them as aliens. They do so in a way that blends their tongue and thus their culture seamlessly into the multiethnic realm that is China. Whether one accepts that sinicization allowed the Qing Dynasty last so long, or that it was by building cultural links with multiple ethnic groups as Rawski believes (831), the balance of power the Manchu created through language was instrumental.

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References

Evelyn S. Rawski, “Reenvisioning the Qing: The Significance of the Qing Period in Chinese History,” The Journal of Asian Studies 55, no. 4 (November 1996): 829-850.

R. Keith Schoppa, Revolution and its Past (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2011), 32.

Chan, Anita, Richard Madsen and Jonathon Unger, pp. 1-40, 74-168, 186-212 in Chen Village: Revolution to Globalization (1984)

The three authors of this text provide a captivating narrative of a small community called Chen Village under the government of the Chinese Communist Party, which enacts various reform efforts upon China with often harrowing effects. From the Great Leap Forward to the campaigns to the Cultural Revolution, Chen Village suffers and struggles to survive under Mao’s and then Deng Xiaoping’s policies. The authors’ argument (or one of them) is that Chinese village leaders, such as Quingfa of Chen Village, often found themselves in a cruel irony: they came to power seen as opponents of class and were removed from power seen as supporters of class. So it is with Chen Quingfa. Commune leaders were looking for a man of words, a man of action, and a man of wisdom. Party leaders also wanted to select someone with a “clean” class background; Quingfa was extremely destitute and had been his whole life. He was illiterate with humble beginnings. He was their man, and was thus appointed secretary.

Quingfa would later come under fire, transformed into an image of a hated landlord. His relations to former removed landlords would incite criticism. He would be accused of giving the best land to himself and his kin, and eating finer foods than were available to the common man. He was disgraced under the accusation that he received foreign capitalist gifts and thus supported capitalism. Overall, having a better life or having a leadership role was often seen as being of higher class. This impossible situation Quingfa found himself in meant in addition to the turbulent nature of China’s economy and the CCP’s campaigns and policies, leadership roles such as his would be severely unstable and in a state of flux. This only hurt China and slowed its recovery.

The authors use concrete evidence. As many Chinese who lived in this time period are still alive today, there is a plethora of direct quotes from interviewees. Written documents from the time period are also used as primary sources. This book is convincing and effective in showing the reader what Chen Village went through during those trying days.

One thing that struck me was how the sense of identity according to kinship refused to budge even in the face of communist reforms and its new ideology. Quingfa was most helpful to his relatives and neighbors, even going so far as to rig the land distribution lottery to ensure they got better land. He grouped his closest friends into the same work team. Even amongst all the talk of communes, equality and classlessness, older ingrained beliefs and traditions remained. It seems to me that Quingfa did create a higher class for himself, his family and his friends. The ancient sense of identity undermined communism, ensuring that the creation of a classless society would ultimately fail.

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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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