From the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, a revelatory portrait of religion in China today--its history, the spiritual traditions of its Eastern and Western faiths, and the ways in which it is influencing China's future.
The Souls of China tells the story of one of the world's great spiritual revivals. Following a century of violent anti-religious campaigns, China is now filled with new temples, churches, and mosques--as well as cults, sects, and politicians trying to harness religion for their own ends. Driving this explosion of faith is uncertainty--over what it means to be Chinese and how to live an ethical life in a country that discarded traditional morality a century ago and is searching for new guideposts.
Ian Johnson first visited China in 1984; in the 1990s he helped run a charity to rebuild Daoist temples, and in 2001 he won a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of the suppression of the Falun Gong spiritual movement. While researching this book, he lived for extended periods with underground church members, rural Daoists, and Buddhist pilgrims. Along the way, he learned esoteric meditation techniques, visited a nonagenarian Confucian sage, and befriended government propagandists as they fashioned a remarkable embrace of traditional values. He has distilled these experiences into a cycle of festivals, births, deaths, detentions, and struggle--a great awakening of faith that is shaping the soul of the world's newest superpower.
Ian Johnson is a Pulitzer-Prize winning writer focusing on society, religion, and history. He works out of Beijing, where he also teaches and advises academic journals.
Johnson has spent over half of the past thirty years in the Greater China region, first as a student in Beijing from 1984 to 1985, and then in Taipei from 1986 to 1988. He later worked as a newspaper correspondent in China, from 1994 to 1996 with Baltimore's The Sun, and from 1997 to 2001 with The Wall Street Journal, where he covered macro economics, China's WTO accession and social issues.
In 2009, Johnson returned to China, where he writes features and essays for The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, The New Yorker, National Geographic, and other publications. He teaches undergraduates at The Beijing Center for Chinese Studies, where he also runs a fellowship program. In addition, he formally advises a variety of academic journals and think tanks on China, such as the Journal of Asian Studies, the Berlin-based think tank Merics, and New York University's Center for Religion and Media.
“The Souls of China” is filled with intriguing characters. But the most important one is the author himself. Ian Johnson is a seeker who takes the reader on a journey to witness China’s reviving spiritual traditions. Through Ian’s travels, we meet Pastor Wang who leads a house church in an office building in the western city of Chengdu; Old Mr. Li, a "yinyang man," and his son who practice ancient Daoist funerary rites and fortune-telling; the Ni family who have revived a pilgrimage association at the Miaofenshang temple outside of Beijing; a Confucian scholar; a qigong master; a mother who lost her son on June 4th; and many more. With cinematic style, Ian has accomplished the goal of every journalist: he is at once the fly on the wall and the confidante of his subjects. The reader can sense that they trust him, and he respects them. His style is immersive. I actually found myself trying to mimic his qigong advice on breathing while walking. The religious landscape of China, with the weight of political system bearing down on it, is not always easy to understand. And I read with a sense of dread that at any moment the hammer of the state was going to crash down on some of the characters. But I came away feeling that with the narrator as my guide, I was witnessing a remarkable moment in China’s history. As the author wrote: “Chinese society was like a sailboat unmoored, its centerboard broken, its sails full, flying wildly across the water—exhilarating to watch from the shore but terrifying to ride.”
The Chinese Cultural Revolution was the culmination of a century-long project to wipe out China's ancient cultural heritage and replace it with a radical modern social engineering project. I was interested to read this book to see whether there might be a future for China's traditions now that the extremism of that period has worn off. The author spends several years trying to get a feel for Chinese Buddhism, Daoism and Christianity and seeing how these traditions are practiced among ordinary Chinese today. He also spends some time in Daoist practice himself and gives some insight into how this affected him, alongside his reporting on others.
Slowly but surely all these traditions are returning to China, as its people search for some sort of spiritual and moral guidance in modernity. This resurgence of religion in China after Mao is interesting since it seems to suggest an inherent human desire for spirituality. Decades of aggressive state atheism succeeded in deracinating people from their religious traditions. But as soon as the pressure relented, those same roots began to reassert themselves and religious practice began anew in earnest. While the radicals succeeded in destroying temples and killing priests, they were not able to extirpate the written word which - unlike the West which tends to revere physical structures and institutions - is the true bearer of ancient Chinese culture and religion.
Part of this religious resurgence reflects the universal desire for existential solace, but part of it also reflected a desire on the part of ordinary Chinese for moral values to help govern their lives amid an extremely materialistic and authoritarian modern society. People crave values and meaning, they do not want to be and cannot be purely homo economicus, regardless of what Mao Zedong, Vladimir Lenin or some modern capitalists may argue.
While there is some Chinese history mixed in the text, the majority of it is Johnson's firsthand accounts of popular religious practice in the present-day. In general this reporting is good and sometimes it can even be quite moving. One of the best segments was about "Master Nan" (Nan Huai-Chin), who was sort of a living time-capsule of Chinese culture before Communism and became a highly sought out teacher by China's modern elites before his death in 2012. There is also a great account of a traditional funeral procession in a run-down part of urban Beijing, at which Johnson was present. Xi Jinping has been a great friend and patron to the traditional Chinese religions since coming to power (though not so much to Christianity), seeing them as a possible glue to help hold together a society sowing rapid development and reaping widespread social alienation. The stereotype of China as an arch-materialist society may not last the first half of the 21st century.
The book would have been served well by being 100 pages shorter, but it clearly reflected a lot of hard work and local knowledge. It is unfortunate he was not able to cover the beliefs of minority groups in China like the Uighyurs and Tibetans, but China is a big place and its hard to cover all the ground.
THE SOULS OF CHINA takes readers into a land that's vastly different than the western world: full of old customs, history and beliefs, yet deeply affected by a modern Communist movement that's attempted to wipe them all out and replace them with an atheistic materialism.
Today, China is going through a religious revival, journalist Ian Johnson writes, and THE SOULS OF CHINA is a story of individuals making sense of these dramatic changes and searching for meaning. Johnson uses his long experience as a reporter in China to blend the national context with human interest storytelling.
In one of the most poignant moments of the book, he describes attending a funeral in a rural area, and meeting the dead man's son, who's excited to meet a foreigner and sits down to drink with him. He peppers Johnson with questions. Where is Canada? Is it a big country or a small one? What about the United States? How many harvests to you get a year? Corn or millet? Sorghum? But as the grain alcohol flows, the questions take on a more profound tone. "Why are we here?" the man asks. "Foreigner, tell me." He repeats the question insistently.
Naturally, Johnson can't answer the man's question - it's one humans have wrestled with for millennia. Yet the moment illustrates one of the most important lessons in THE SOULS OF CHINA. Despite the many differences between China and the western world, the Chinese soul is not very different from any other human soul. It's this insight that gives this book its universal power.
Reads like the work of a pulitzer-winning journalist; this is not praise. There's a kind of middle-brow literariness to the book (the structure is rigid but cute; anecdote is multiplied to the near exclusion of analysis or explanation; everything is shown, and not told; it's as earnest as anything I've ever read). In short, it reminds me of a mid-century American novel, except one that is actually worth reading, because you will glean some information, at least. Johnson doesn't exactly do his authority any favors by claiming that, e.g., Calvinist = Reformed = Puritan; I honestly have no idea how much to trust his claims about 'religions' in China given that he's so willing to simplify the religions that are so much easier to understand for an American.
This review was originally published on mycountryandmypeople.org
Years ago I classified foreigners coming to China into three categories: mystics who look for spiritual answers in an alien cultural realm; nerds who didn’t have enough studying technical chemistry back home looking for yet another intellectual kick in Chinese characters; and gold rushing adventurers who followed the current of global economics. Its hard to draw a line, but I would say that with the preparations of the Beijing Olympics, the first international event which put the Chinese civilization-state into the lime light, and definitely with the more or less coinciding GFC, the ratio between these three groups did tip, in particular because the number of foreigners in China grew exponentially and most of them arrived on its shores on the aforementioned current of mammon. If you belong to the first group, then The Souls of China is your decisive read to understand eventually what you have been looking for, but most likely have never found on your own. If you belong to the second group of nerdish geeks, then Ian Johnson translates for you the enigmatic riddles of Buddhism, Daoism and sinified Christianity. If you are one of the many, who have a rather pragmatic motivation to understand the Middle Kingdom, you will learn how the Xi administration transforms traditional religions into the atheist Party’s new power base. And that’s probably where these three strands of interest merge: at the intersection of faith and power in an – to the Western mind - alien civilization.
Only a person driven by serious pain and by a genuine interest in understanding the nature of suffering and transcendence, i.e. people whom we call mystics after they have managed to cope with their pain, go to such great lengths like Ian Johnson. Its inexplicable how he managed to write over a course of approximately five years next to his full time job as Berlin based correspondent for an American newspaper this emotionally and intellectually rich book. It unfolds in three narratives about a Beijing based Buddhist pilgrimage association, a Shanxi family of Taoist ritual masters and revolutionary Chengdu protestants, weaved into a structure that follows the traditional Chinese calendar, which is somewhat symbolic for the resurgence of the past, because it was more or less abolished in favor of the Gregorian calendar after the collapse of the Qing dynasty, but enjoys a century later wider and wider usage. With hours of personal interviews, days and even weeks spent on various religious retreats, and massive research into Chinese and religious history, each of these narratives would have been sufficient for a book in itself. Johnson manages though to tie the separate narratives together by adding a scholarly analysis of how the Chinese government evolved in its relationship towards religion over the last roughly 200 years and what role it played and will play in the development of a civilization-state which currently shapes the world like no other human organization and whose citizens feel a spiritual void.
Progress is not linear—churches are demolished, temples run for tourism, and debates about morality manipulated for political gain—but the overall direction is clear. Faith and values are returning to the center of a national discussion over how to organize Chinese life. […] All of this exists and is true but misses a bigger point: that hundreds of millions of Chinese are consumed with doubt about their society and turning to religion and faith for answers that they do not find in the radically secular world constructed around them. They wonder what more there is to life than materialism and what makes a good life.
Johnson explains that traditional Chinese religion was not like Semitic religions a pillar next to secular society, but was spread over every aspect of life like a fine membrane that held society together, and was organized around local communities, e.g. almost every craftsmanship or guild in every town had its own patron instead of centralized authorities in Rome or Mecca. Chinese never believed exclusively in one religion and thus had no confession which excludes other forms of faith, instead, as the saying goes, every Chinese wears a Confucian cape, a Taoist hat and Buddhist sandals. And probably most importantly does Chinese religion not provide a home for the spiritual seeker, but certain services like a Taoist funeral, a Buddhist meditation or a Confucian moral self-cultivation; all of them making up an amalgam of Chinese religion in which all Chinese believe more or less, even today, even if they tell you that they are atheists.
I am not entirely convinced by Johnson’s elaborations, in particular the way he opposes Chinese to Western faith, because the nature of religion has changed in Abrahamic traditions substantially over time. Early Christians, too, were organized in communities instead of being streamlined by a pope and a strictly hierarchical organization. The idea of confessing one’s faith on the other hand is a historical consequence of the reformist era, when Lutherans pushed exactly against this hierarchical, community suffocating aspect of the Roman church. Moreover, I believe that all religions request in their original form that a set of values permeates one’s entire life and not only periods of observance in places of worship. In particular Judaism shows that the separation between secular society and religion is hardly possible; non observant Israelis will mostly still consider themselves Jewish; and I have not only once met a Chinese who describes himself as a Jew of the East: business minded and by culture not by nationality or genetic heritage tied to an ethnicity. Religion is as such always an integral part of what makes up a society’s culture, even if it has become secular or atheist, observing one of the new humanist religions of liberalism, communism or fascism.
Johnson does observe that Chinese religion focuses on the cultivation of the mind through the body with taichi, qigong and other physical practices. An approach which was familiar to the Romans who believed that a sound mind rests in a healthy body | mens sana in corpore sano. But he does not explain that this focus on the integration of body and mind which persisted in China until modernity and was refined even into political concepts like global harmony | datong, is the result of a from the West different cultural evolution during the Axial Age, when other modern societies had gone through a profound separation of the spiritual from the everyday, but no such division ever took place in Far East Asia. China never underwent what German philosopher Karl Jaspers called the ‘Axial Age’, a separation creating a dynamic tension between the world of matter and another world of spirit.
Chinese rarely doubted the superiority of their civilization, which rested in this refined bodymind equilibirium. They were often self-critical but believed that their ways of life would prevail. China’s encounter with the West shook that self-assurance and led to the destruction of most religion, in particular of folk religion. A development which is most clearly confirmed by the demolishment of approximately one million city god temples and cultural heritage sites like the Buddhist grottos of Dunhuang. Only Taiwan and Hong Kong were saved from this madness and thus differentiate themselves exactly in this aspect from mainland China.
It seems though as if Johnson implies that Chinese politicians are better social psychologists than their Western counterparts, when he describes how the 150 year long struggle of the Chinese elite to identify religion and superstition within the hitherto holistic cultural blend in order to erase it completely, leads eventually to a resurgence of exactly the same blend, which now supported by new technology puts the party like never before firmly in its saddle. The Hu Jintao and Xi Jinping administrations have realized in the wake of the Chinese industrial revolution that what society lacked was rules, standards, ties. Chinese society was like a sailboat unmoored, its centerboard broken, its sails full, flying wildly across the water—exhilarating to watch from the shore but terrifying to ride.
Johnson interestingly describes for China what Ken Wilber described for the US: aperspectival madness, i.e. the government broadcasting continuous and repeated non-truth with the single objective of staying in power and completely detached from the values lived in society. He confirms my observation that the G2 governments converge in how they run their nations. “You have a society where the educational materials are all about loving the party, so of course it leads to a spiritual crisis. After a while the students learn that Lei Feng is a fake. This is destructive; it destroys everything you’ve been taught. You feel that nothing is real. How can they teach virtues? It’s impossible. You find out that the things you’re supposed to admire the most are fake. So it seems nothing is real. Faith is a foundation, but the government has no foundation: they will say anything or do anything. The only way the party can succeed is by cheating you. That becomes their biggest success—by how much they can cheat you. That’s whom you’re ruled by.”
Despite the title, The Souls of China is a deeply political book and the subtitle could well be Thank you, Mr. Xi: we don't need another regional set of regressive values in an era of globalization. Societies do need not only laws but also values and it is evident that the modern world is in a general crisis, because the values which are propagated are not lived by those who are in power; the resulting distrust seeps through society and permeates all areas and members. But even if the Xi administration manages to align its value propaganda with its deeds, it will lead to what Samuel Huntington described in 1996 as a clash of civilizations. The stakes for the West are high, because it is highly heterogeneous, badly organized and from a Chinese perspective its increasingly justified to speak of a bunch of barbarians. If Beijing succeeds to implant its values into the minds of its citizens then it will have created trust, i.e. the currency, which Francis Fukuyama argued in 1995 to be an essential antidote to the increasing drift of American culture into extreme forms of individualism, which, if unchecked, will have dire consequences for the nation's economic health. A prognosis which proofed to be true.
Johnson’s main merit consists in showing how China has painfully alienated itself over the last 150 years from its most intrinsic cultural asset to catch up with the Western world; and how Xi Jinping emulates the paramount leader of the cultural revolution and his dynastic predecessors in reinstating exactly this asset. Mao himself understood religion’s power, calling divine authority one of the “four thick ropes” binding traditional society together; the other three were political authority, lineage authority, and patriarchy. Thus he turned himself into the son of heaven who appears as the sun from the east; and Xi portrays himself as patron of traditional Chinese belief systems, i.e. Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism with the sole objective of tying the population at large closer to himself.
In retrospect the GFC was a much underestimated turning point, which gave Chinese the impression that they had outperformed the West economically and could now focus again on the values which made them what they are. This search for identity is most prominently featured in Johnson’s book by Master Nan, a Taiwanese born traditionalist who now teaches in the Yangtze River Delta: “In the past one hundred years, China used Western thinking, not Chinese thinking,” Master Nan said. “Communism is Western, not Chinese. Capitalism is also Western. Socialism is also Western. What is Chinese?” Indeed, what is Chinese, and why must it be based on a look backwards? Why can’t we start to define ourselves by a common future?
Xi tries to wrest the divine authority from religious communities, because he has brilliant sociologists as advisors; they have understood by studying other modern societies that the industrial revolution undermines political, lineage authority and patriarchy. Religion will be the only strong rope which will hold in the 21st century a society together and therefore has to be controlled by the government; the reinforcement of the state as a parent surrogate is therefore top nationalist priority, no matter if such policies hamper the personal growth of the population at large. Xi’s policy is contradictory to what the Swiss psychoanalyst Jung said about individuation: Peeling off cultural conditioning and developing a true self often involves physical detachment from one’s originating society.
That the Chinese government does not want its citizens to grow up is subtly reflected in the open street. Collecting photos of the new propaganda artwork has turned during the last year into a hobby, and when I take my strolls in our neighborhood I am on a daily basis consternated by the childishness of political messages, which make the contents seem even more severe. The above left picture shows the nation as the mother and the citizen as the child holding on to the mother’s back. It reads: if the nation of ancestors is wealthy and strong, then my mind is at peace. The right picture is one out of a series spotted in Shanghai’s Changning district which tries to push the value of law and order by showing child citizens looking up to their neighborhood police officer. I am not surprised that a country, where Hello Kitty turned into a mega brand, generates such propaganda, but I am amazed about the multitude of policy interpretations. It seems as if the central government assigned to every local government the task of creating political artwork around the newly defined socialist core values, because at least in Shanghai every district has its own peculiar set of posters; each one of them revealing another detail to the keen observer about the true message of this campaign: obey.
Johnson writes that the content for this campaign was conceived in the autumn of 2011, at the last big annual Communist Party meeting under the old administration of President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao. The communiqué issued by that meeting frankly described a society where “in a number of areas, morals are defeated, sincerity is lacking, the view of life and value system of a number of members of society is distorted.” The solution was to educate people in “Core Socialist Values.” These were mainly anodyne terms (“patriotism,” “honesty,” “thrift”), but they began to be supplemented with ideas from the old political-religious system of Han Chinese thought, such as filial piety, or xiao, and a political utopian term, datong, often translated as “great harmony.” In fact, the report called China’s traditional heritage “a common spiritual garden for the Chinese nation.”
One would think that president Xi who seems to be in particular fond of Buddhism pushes core values like compassion, but what we usually see first are airplane carriers, tanks, soldiers or symbols of traditional Chinese power like the Temple of Heaven under the characters 富强 | wealth and power; translated euphemistically into prosperity. The simple fact that this value is always leading all others reflects that it is not intended to instill true values into society at large but shows by what it is motivated: the parties will to power. Shouldn’t authentic values be defined by purpose?
Some overview billboards separate the twelve key terms into three groups of each four which reflect three different levels of society: 国家 | nation, 社会 | society, 公民 | citizen. The nation, which is the same as the government and thus the parent surrogate for the citizens should strive to be 富强 | prosperous and powerful, 民主 | democratic, 文明 | civilized, 和谐 | harmonious. Society shall follow the values of 自由 | freedom, 平等 | equality, 公正 | justice and 法治 | the rule of law. The citizen must be 爱国 | patriotic, 敬业 | dedicated, 诚信 | honest and友善 | friendly. Should values be essentially the same for all members of society, no matter whether they have the role of government or ordinary citizen?
The China Dream campaign with its implementing strategy of propagating socialist core values is backwards and inwards looking; it is deeply nationalistic and is the antithesis of what a globalized and united humankind needs to tackle the problems ahead; it is the Chinese version of a Japanese sakoku policy. Instead of reviving the Nüwa myth, telling the Chinese that they were made out of Yellow River clay and teaching them to be patriotic, it would make more sense to talk about The Journey of Man, i.e. why humans are one big famiy having its origin in Africa. Prosperity, democracy, civility and harmony, even if fake, are under president Xi’s policy only values for Chinese subjects and foster the renaissance of the Hua Yi dichotomy: a superior Chinese culture opposed to babarians.
Johnson makes though a slightly optimistic resume of his writing and emphasizes the opportunity for broader transformation. Religion provides a morality and frames of reference for universal aspirations—like justice, fairness, and decency—that are higher than any government’s agenda. Out of this is coming a China that is more than the hyper-mercantilist, fragile superpower that we know. It is a country engaging in a global conversation that affects all of us: how to restore solidarity and values to societies that have made economics the basis of most decisions. Perhaps because Chinese traditions were so savagely attacked over the past decades, and then replaced with such a naked form of capitalism, China might actually be at the forefront of this worldwide search for values. Reading his account of how protestant churches in Chengdu translate the Bible from classic Greek into Chinese and how they meet like early Christian communities; how Buddhist associations focus in the last extent on exhorting people to do good; and how Taoists favor deeds over ruminations; I feel that there is hope and I once again would like to ask philosopher Ken Wilber if he wouldn’t agree that the leading edge of evolution has shifted to China; considering that competition has definitely shifted to the field of values. Wertbewerb instead of Wettbewerb.
Specific stories of Han Chinese (Daoist, Buddhist, and Christian house-church practices), not Tibetans or Uighurs.
Covers funeral ceremonies, meditation, volunteering, Xi Jinping’s experiments with Buddhism/use of “traditional values.”
Even when a practice is explicitly traditional (e.g. temple pilgrimage or male pastor training), it *adopts*, benefiting from government upgrades or working within limitations. Tradition isn’t able to be static: we collectively shape how religious practices interact with the 21st century, including Chinese and US political environments.
Question: in these cases of religious Han Chinese, are there opportunities to build on a common ground of values to counter violent propaganda about Tibetans and Uighurs?
Book ending: “Out of this is coming a China that is more than the hyper-mercantilist, fragile superpower that we know. It is a country engaging in a global conversation that affects all of us: how to restore solidarity and values to societies that have made economics the basis of most decisions. Perhaps because Chinese traditions were so savagely attaches over the past decades, and then replaced with such a naked form of capitalism, China might actually be at the forefront of this worldwide search for values.”
It's a bit like learning about Japanese culture by watching the Last Samurai.
Like contemporary journalism, it's not that it isn't filled with tons of very interesting and informative data, but rather you know that the adjectives are already all written before the author started writing the book and writing the book was just a matter of filling in the right nouns between the adjectives.
To draw an exaggerated analogy, it'd be a bit like a Chinese author writing a book about the 'American religious zeitgeist's for Chinese audience and writes a book about Jonestown, the abortion debate, polygamy and Mormonism, and priest pedophilia, then fills it with factual, scientific data. It's informative, but you wouldn't say the audience now has a good understanding of the American religious culture.
It's not that the book isn't correct. It's not even that the author didn't have sincere and honorable intents to cover the topic fairly, but the author is a product of his environment and is deeply steeped in the American psyche that China = Tiananmen + Tibet + Falungong.
Edward Zwick may have very well admired Japanese culture and wanted to praise it, but his upbringing ultimately made him film 'how the white people should save Japan'.
Interesting to learn about banned religious organizations in China and the reason for state banning them. Didn't cover Islam nor the Muslim minority west of China. Didn't cover Nepal and the issue of Lama. Was focused on Christianity and Confucius. So book is incomplete and not holistically covering Relegion in China
An outstanding insight into the values systems, culture and beliefs of Chinese people. The books is written in the form of short stories following multiple families from different religious and cultural backgrounds. The structure of the book offers a greater inside into the way Chinese understand their belief systems which couldn't be achieved if the book was written in the form of a manual or textbook. The context of each belief system is shown through the eyes of a real person which makes it all the more interesting. All in all a great book for understanding the way Chinese people perceive religion and how and why it differs from the western approach. Besides that, the author also offers an insight into the wider historical, social and political context of religion in China, which is also really helpful.
Johnson takes his reader on a fascinating trek into the rites and rituals of the major religions that are being allowed to rebound (ever so slightly) across China - including Confucianism, Daoism, Buddhism and Protestant Christianity. Having been to China, Johnson's masterful prose vividly awakened in me the sights, smells and clamor of the country. If you have not been, see the website pictures that accompany the book.
Most intriguing is Johnson's argument that the Chinese Government has a sense of something missing in their world without religion. He believes that at least some of the leadership hold a view that important moral and cultural values are lacking but important - and the controlled resurgence of religion may play an important role in the society they desire. Johnson believes this is an important point for other societies - and ironically, the Chinese may understand that point better than other nations.
Most startling are Johnson's descriptions of the interactions between the government and the religions. As I read these bits, it was hard for me to not be overcome with tremendous gratitude for the Constitutional separation of church and state, and the ensuing religious freedom we enjoy in the U.S.
Published in 2017, Johnson ends on an optimistic note that the government will press forward in making religion a part of Chinese society again. Alas, Wang Yi, the pastor of the Early Rain Church that Johnson uses as his Christianity example throughout the book (Yi was also a guest at the White House in the 2000's), was arrested along with 100 members of his church in 2018, and has just been sentenced to 9 years in prison.
Not all I was hoping for. Basically the author documents his personal experiences and contacts with various religious groups in China. He does give a brief overview as to how religion was shut down under Mao ZeDong's rule, although it was his wife "the Dragon Lady" or Lady Mao who was really the henchman with her "Gang of Four".
After her death, well, to back up: after Mao's death, her power began to diminish until she was imprisoned in the early 1980's and finally committed suicide, after her release.
He recounts various groups: Christian, Buddhists, Ancestor worship and Muslim as well as others.
As a Christian, I was hoping more for information on how Christianity is thriving in China, but the author actually belongs to Buddhism, I think, so he had a different focus.
I would like something a little more informative, but by all means, give this book a shot.
I enjoyed this book for the empathy, humor, reflection, history lessons, and for illustrating that the things we have in common as humans are more important than our differences.
The good: - empathy for all descibed characters with their quirks - funny at times - history lesson as context to the current views and policies
The not-so-good: - It seems odd that Budhism was more or less missing from a book about the spiritual lives of people in a country with about 200 million Buddhists. - The more or less positive description of the growth of Evangelical protestantism scares the shit out of me, considering the recent developments in the US.
What a compelling account of the rise of religion in China since Mao’s dictatorship. I was specially fascinated by the interest in Reformed Theology among the Protestants.
As much as Mao and the Communist Party tried, they could not completely erase China’s long history of religious beliefs, both “western” religions and traditional folk beliefs. And now, as modern society leaves people empty searching for meaning, religious beliefs in all forms are experiencing a great resurgence, as groups and traditions long thought lost are gradually becoming a part of everyday life again.
Following the traditional solar terms, Johnson introduces us to a delightful cast of characters ranging from Taoist yin-yang masters as they adapt to a new life in the city, to the Neo-Calvinist pastors in Chengdu, to Buddhist masters by the shore of Lake Tai. One thing is clear throughout all these people’s lives is the impact faith has had on them in the post-Mao, post-1989 era in which the Party has turned to naked economic growth as the standard for the country and society’s success.
Each of the three faith traditions encountered is treated respectfully and given plenty of space to explore their own beliefs and how they have adapted to modern China: from meeting government surveillance head on to simplifying ancient repertoires, each is surviving and thriving. It’s so interesting to gain an insight into normally such a private aspect of people’s lives and to see the ways faith has gradually reëntered the public sphere.
However, despite covering Taoism, Buddhism, and Protestant Christianity in such detail, Johnson leaves out any discussion of Catholicism and, particularly pertinent nowadays, Islam. Leaving out the latter is somewhat understandable since its practitioners are found in sensitive areas, entry into which can be difficult for foreigners, but leaving out any discussion on Catholicism means the book’s treatment of Christianity is lacking.
Nevertheless, this is such an interesting account of modern faith expressions in China, at a time when religion there is undergoing major challenges; the way China responds to growing faith movements will definitely define its future and Johnson does well showing us the day-to-day lives of the faithful.
Recent surveys indicate that Chinese hold beliefs, but don’t claim to follow a religion.
The Souls of China by Ian Johnson focuses far too much on ritual (particularly funeral ritual) and too little on Chinese thought. If you want to learn about Chinese thought, then enroll in the edX online course on Humanity and Nature in Chinese Thought once it has been archived.
Readers will be surprised to learn about Xi Jinping's patronage of the Buddhist Linji Temple, where the monk Linji Yixuan founded the Linji School of Chan (Zen) Buddhism.
Johnson organizes his stories by seasons/months of the Chinese calendar, but in his afterword, he says that tian (heaven) is the aspiration of the people he followed for the book. Perhaps tian would have been a better way to organize this book. He says that tian suggests a sense of justice and respect and something higher than any one government. Tian might be a non-translatable, an ineffable concept.
For further reading, the Indian magazine Swarajya has an article Maoism Marries Confucianism - How China's Communists Are Appropriating Confucius. Appropriation serves Chinese nationalism, or what the article calls "Chineseness". I also think that Chinese leaders are concerned about materialism, consumerism, and the need for a moral compass.
This was wonderful! The book is structured so that not only it tells about the history of China's religions and the government dealings with them, but also with excerpts of real lives that help to understand Chinese society even better. It's not a book full of events, but as someone who's very ignorant about Asian's history, I found this easy to understand and quite enjoyable. Another positive is that you don't have to start at the beginning. Every chapter is its own, even if some characters are present in more than one. Johnson manages to show the actual thoughts and way of living of the people he meets without embellishments, but still discovering their hopes and dreams, connecting them through their spirituality. This book was a bit long, repetitive at some points, but overall informative and full of heart.
In May 2017, my husband and I went to China to visit churches where his grandparents served as missionaries in the 1920s and 1930s. After we returned, a friend tipped us off about this book. As I read it, I had a lot of "aha" moments - "Yes, I remember seeing that;" and "so that's why ..." The writing and insights are superb, but for me this was also a personally illuminating and delightful read that helped me understand my experience better
The big downside of this book is it is written exactly like an in depth article, spun out into a book. All the interviews and journalist spin might have been the best way to try to address a topic as huge and variable as contemporary Chinese spirituality, I’m not sure. But I found it distracting the entire book.
But, interesting topic, done by someone with a clear wealth of contact with China and its people.
Truly extraordinary overview of traditional and 'imported' religion in contemporary China. Strikes a wonderful balance between explaining the larger political undercurrents in China and showing the meaning that religious practices hold in individual lives.
This is a must read for anyone interested in China, even if you aren't into religion, the picture it presents on the different spaces the government allows people to act in and the differing amounts of "freedom" is interesting and helps in understanding China.
After reading River Town, I decided to move on to another book about China – this one about the “return of religion after Mao” (according to the book’s subtitle). One thing I noticed in River Town was that while people didn’t like to criticise Mao Zedong overtly, they were rather willing to admit that he made mistakes. The general consensus seemed to be that he was flawed but still a hero, and it was with that in mind that I read The Souls of China.
Covering the span of one year, The Souls of China looks at how the Han Chinese practice their religion. Johnson interacts with, and observes, Daoists, Buddhists, and Protestant Christians, and each section generally has at least one chapter on each religion. The general consensus seems to be: as soon as the government stopped cracking down on it, people found ways to practice their faith, be it what is seen as “traditional” – Daoism and Buddhism, or “foreign” (albeit, already localised but connected to the global world, as we see from a house Church’s presentation on the long history of Christianity in Chengdu) – Christianity. We also get to see a bit of how the government treats religion, and the way it’s mixed up with culture, though sadly Johnson didn’t manage to show us anything of the government-run Churches (which I think would be very interesting).
From what I understand, faith is intrinsic and until the cultural revolution, was an everyday part of life. While the Chinese may not take part in formal religion the way the West defines it, they do have their own beliefs and are eager to express them. What I found interesting was the way that Christianity tended to be associated with the push for human rights and progress, while Daoism and Buddhism were concerned more with the ability to continue on their traditions and were hence more readily embraced and even co-opted by the ruling elite. It does seem like while the urge to practice faith is very common, how and why and the response to this urge can differ quite widely in China.
There was also one small point that caught my eye. I’ve often heard it said that the bystander effect is very strong in China because no one wants to be help responsible for what happens. But Mr Li, one of the daoists followed in the book, pointed to another cause: The Cultural Revolution. The book says:
“Old Mr. Li added something else: he said that this is when people stopped respecting each other. Respect for elders, respect for authority, even common decency: the Cultural Revolution was when it ended. When people were beaten, it was forbidden to help them.”
Which is honestly rather tragic, and I wonder if the rediscovery of faith will help to heal the wounds the cultural revolution created. But I have my doubts – it seems that as urbanisation and progress grows, people want the simplified version of the real thing. One challenge the Li family faces is that city dwellers haggle over prices or ask for inferior versions of music because they are “good enough”. Coupled with the fact that they have to simplify their repertoire and divorce it from its context to bring it overseas and have to follow certain rules to get government grants and it seems like many traditions risk becoming fossils.
Overall, I found this to be a fascinating book. It was published seven years ago, so I’m sure a lot has changed since then and I hope to be able to read a follow-up on this soon. It would be interesting to see how COVID-19 and the lockdowns, the rise of Hanfu and also Han chauvinism, as well as subsequent political developments have affected Daoist groups, Buddhist associations, and the house Churches.
我不知道大赞通过这本书了解中国宗教之类的人,有多少会去看Ran Yunfei关于大慈寺的作品。但是如果有兴趣,不妨可以看看书中提到的比尔波特Bill Porter的作品。相对于作者,比尔对于宗教的态度,显然更加纯粹和谦卑而非浅薄地利用。相对于戴着有色眼镜却自称participatory observer的作者,波特显然更专注于宗教层面的探寻,并不试图做更多的发挥。但是在作者眼里,波特这样的人显然并不太上台面。在他描述中,波特曾是一个收入微博的作者,翻译了一些中国的诗歌和佛经。但是到了2010年,“He became a star.”成千上万册他的作品被急于知道外国人如何看待他们的宗教的中国人而买下。相比之下,或许何伟Peter Hessler这样的作者才是与作者志同道合的伙伴。
Ian is a great storyteller, and his narrative is captivating and engaging. His personal experiences and insights into the religious experience of many people in China is definitely worth reading about. He focuses primarily on the traditional religions of China--Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism (although he barely, if ever, mentions the controversy regarding the CCP's involvement with the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama). But there is also quite a bit about Christianity, mostly Protestantism although he touches briefly on Catholicism (while pretty much avoiding the latest controversy regarding the entanglement of the influence of the CCP with the selection of bishops in China). The biggest oversight is the complete lack of any substantial coverage regarding the Uighur Muslims. And while understandable, he also leaves out any mention of other world religions like Judaism (i.e. the Keifeng Jews) in China. Despite all of that, it's still a good read. My own experience has shown that no matter how much you read in textbooks and so forth about cultures and religions, there is nothing like having personal experiences with the people. Johnson's book is probably the next best thing to being there. But I did find myself about 2/3 of the way through the book hearing Tom Skerritt's line as the preacher-father to his son in "A River Runs Through It": "Do it again-half as long." As a Latter-day Saint, I couldn't help but see events and developments in China, as recounted in China, as somewhat of a Renaissance/Reformation period, in preparation for greater religious opportunities to come in the future. Of course, I hope that China will eventually become open to allow their people the option to learn of all religions and choose their own religion (as stated in Article 18 of the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights). God has a plan and we will see it unfold.
"Nothing can trump an ambitious technocrat in a wealthy authoritarian country."
This is very personal memoir of exploring the way spiritual traditions work in modern China, told in a nonlinear exposition as the China-steeped American journalist explores these religious practices by getting to know the practitioners. It tells the story of how traditional religion came to be suppressed under the old Republic, banned under Mao, revived when the Communist Party began to see the value of community-based institutions, and is being restructured again under Xi.
But if you are expecting an essay on that history, you will be disappointed. Johnson tells instead the story of his exploration of spiritual and religious practices in 21st Century China, and weaves the history into that through discussions with the wonderful people with whom he walks, eats, and talks.
It worked for me.It taught me something about the Chinese people and about the role of spirituality in all our lives. (Disclaimer: I've talked with the author a few times, and I heard the book in his voice, with his gentle, wandering conversational style, so I might be a bit biased. This approach may not be everyone's cup of tea.)
Worth noting that the book focuses most on two religious traditions: traditional folk and Taoist practices, and Protestant Christianity as lead by indigenous Chinese communities. While there is discussion of Catholicism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Islam, and other religions, the author's focus is on these two traditions. In part, he argues, the Chinese government is more tolerant of them because they are not as tied to "foreign connections".
Ian Johnson has lived in China, taught courses in religion there, and is a Pulitzer Prize winning author of a book about suppression of the Falun Gong movement. His grasp of the state of religion, better described as the faith of the Chinese people is evident in his book, The Souls of China. From the reopening of the country after the end of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, Johnson expounds on the growth of the country’s five major religions: Buddhism, Daoism, Christianity (Catholic and Protestant), Islam, and a large body of followers who adhere to folk religion or traditional beliefs. He notes the explosion of temples, mosques, and churches as the Chinese realize the new prosperity and focus on materialism has left them wanting, and in response they turned to religion seeking answers to what makes a good life. China’s official identity is a multiethnic state where all peoples, beliefs, and traditions are equally respected. And yet, the world knows of its heavy hand in regulating and indeed controlling religious movements, such as the Falun Gong faithful. The winners, Johnson says, are likely to be the traditional religions (Daoism, Buddhism, and folk religion). The words of Wang Defeng, one of the people Johnson comes to know, articulate Johnson’s point that faith is a better term than religion for the belief systems of the Chinese. Wang says, “‘My faith is here,’ he said, touching the center of his chest, symbolizing the Confucian ideal of the golden mean. ‘It’s not here,’ he said touching his heart.”
Ian Johnson belicht een vaak vergeten element van China's huidige samenleving: religie. Hij laat zien hoe de Chinese bevolking op vele verschillende manieren op zoek is naar betekenis.
Het boek volgt de structuur van de Chinese maankalender, waarbij drie groepen centraal staan in zijn verhaal: De heropleving van daoïstische pelgrimstochten in Beijing, de veranderende en verstedelijkende begrafenisrituelen in afgelegen delen van Shanxi, en de bruisende, riskante ondernemingen van de "ondergrondse" protestantse kerk in Chengdu, onder leiding van (de nu gevangen genomen) Wang Yi. Deze voorbeelden laten zien hoe religies met elkaar mengen, hoe ritueel vaak prioriteit heeft, hoe ze mensen een gevoel van gemeenschap, identiteit en waarde geven, hoe het samenhangt met de politiek.
Het boek voelt begripvol, en heeft veel humor, zoals het hoofdstuk waarin de nationale congressen van de Partij worden beschreven als een religieus ritueel. Daarnaast is het veelzijdig; een onverwacht maar boeiend onderwerp was Xi Jinpings positieve kijk op het boeddhisme. Bovendien is het een hoopvol boek. Het laat zien dat de Chinese bevolking niet alleen zwijgende volgeling is van een politiek systeem, maar daarbuiten opereert, waar het domein van de waarde echt begint.