Visualizing Modern China: Image, History, and Memory, 1750–Present Read online

  The White Lotus and Taiping Rebellions were classic “heterodox” movements. The White Lotus uprising, which began as a localized revolt in Hubei province, spread across five provinces. Led by religious sectarians, the rebels put up a fierce show of resistance to state authority, making their final and longest stand in the mountainous regions of central China. The rebellion lasted nine years, 1796–1804, causing extensive damage to local agriculture and trade. The state was compelled to spend a vast portion of its treasury to pay for the suppression of the movement, leaving little surplus available to handle the military challenges of the nineteenth century. The Taiping movement began a scant fifty years later in the hinterlands of Guangxi province. Tens of thousands of believers followed the charismatic visionary Hong Xiuquan on a military march from the mountains of the southwest to the fertile rice fields of the Yangtze River delta, on a mission to establish a “Heavenly Kingdom” on earth. Their numbers growing to the millions, the Taiping rebels occupied a broad swath of China’s heartland from 1853–1864, making their capital in the cosmopolitan city of Nanjing. The court was hard-pressed to mount a successful defense against the rebels, ultimately allowing private armies as well as foreign mercenaries to act in the name of the dynasty, a radical departure from precedent.

  Yet it was not their violence alone that marked these movements as heterodox: the substance of their ideology was also suspect. The so-called White Lotus sects subscribed to popular Buddhist millenarianism and belief in the Eternal Mother, creator and sustainer of all humankind. Believers held that the end of the world was nigh and that a new age would soon arrive; the faithful would be delivered into the new age by the Eternal Mother. The sign for the apocalypse was the incarnation of the Maitreya Buddha, the Buddha of the Future, of whom there were many rumors (and supposed sightings) in central China in the 1790s. Sect teachers counseled their disciples to prepare to “rise up” by force of arms on the last day of the world, prophesied to be April 23, 1796 (as it turned out, the first uprising actually took place a few months ahead of schedule).

  The religion of the Taiping Kingdom was problematic for other reasons. The Taiping King, Hong Xiuquan, proclaimed himself to be the second son of the Christian God after this truth was revealed to him in a dream. Schooled in the basics of Christianity, Hong fashioned his own version of the religion wherein he and two disciples became direct conduits to Heaven. Charged by his Heavenly Father to rid the world of demons and bring the people back to the fold, Hong and his followers began a spiritual and military campaign, distinguished by the construction of a new social order that conformed to Hong’s new faith. These radical beliefs and the profane practices that they engendered proved anathema to both Qing officials and Confucian elites, in no small part because the Taiping vision was explicitly opposed to the existing order.

  Rebel Eyes

  Given the negative reactions of the ruling classes, it is particularly important to consider rebellion as seen through the eyes of the participants. Whereas official records focus on the unruly crowd and the chaos of battle, the view from the rebel perspective is that of ordered ranks and meaningful symbols. Symbol and ritual served to unite and rationalize rebel participation in the movement. Common garb and signal flags were not only practical tools of war but also shared icons of fellowship. These different elements were also components of a repertoire of protest in rural China; in following these practices, rebels were both aligning themselves with their historical predecessors and communicating their intentions to wider society.

  There were inherently visual components to the expressed ideology and ritual of the White Lotus sectarians active at the end of the eighteenth century. When sect leaders began predicting the end of the world in the early 1790s, they claimed that the Maitreya Buddha had become incarnate in the person of one of the sect members. They also announced the arrival of a “True Master” who would protect the faithful in their religious quest. The description of this mystical creature is quite dramatic:

  A True Master has emerged in Changchun’guan, Shanxi province. His name is Li Quan’er. The characters for “sun” and “moon” are on his right and left hands, he has the eyes of an emperor [phoenix eyes and dragon gaze], his appearance is extraordinary . . . There is a large stone in his hometown, which suddenly split open one day and produced a scripture that read: “A black wind will blow for a day and a night, it will blow countless corpses; white bones will form mountains, blood will flow like an ocean.” The followers who memorize this scripture will avoid catastrophe. Li Quan’er will rise up on the chen day of the chen month of the chen year [April 17, 1796] Those who prepare weapons and ammunition to support him will be rewarded when the affair is completed.4

  This short narrative was passed from teacher to disciple, likely memorized much as a sacred recitation might be. Accordingly, each detail is important. The imagery is particularly compelling: eyes of a phoenix, cracking stones, black winds, piles of bones. This evocative imagery gave substance to religious faith, presenting the supernatural as both ethereal and tangible at the same time.

  Figures such as Li Quan’er materially and visually represented the religious sanction that the rebels believed they enjoyed. Li himself presented an imposing mien. The fate that awaited non-believers was equally impressive. Whether he was actually seen (and no one confessed to that event) matters less than the fact that his description circulated widely throughout central China on the eve of the rebellion.5 Sect leaders who identified themselves with the True Master, either by proximity or otherwise, shared in his power and religious authority, a relationship that could be exemplified in iconic ways. One sect leader, Zhang Zhengmo, wore a sword which he claimed had been given him by Li Quan’er.6 The sword made Zhang instantly identifiable and allowed him to claim the divine protection represented in the person of the True Master.

  Public and private rituals reassured adherents of both divine sanction and the spiritual authority of rebel leaders. One leader of the White Lotus uprising in Hubei, Hu Zhengzhong, identified himself as a shaman and acknowledged his ritual role in the rebellion when questioned by Qing officials. Hu noted that he had conducted sacrifices on the eve of revolt. Later, when the rebels had established themselves in a fortress in the hills, a shrine was specially built for Hu, signifying the continued importance of ritual throughout the course of the movement.7 Ritual performance also helped to bolster the courage of adherents in the thick of the fray. Military officials recorded the following encounter:

  We saw a rebel dressed in white, leading two thousand followers. . . He was carrying something in his hand and the rebels under his command fought without retreating. General Cheng De took up a gun and shot at the rebel from the hilltop, killing him, upon which the other rebels fled in consternation. . . . [We interviewed a captive and asked] who was the rebel in white? What was he holding in his hand? He answered that the man was leader Liu Shengming and that he was holding a copper snake in his hand. “[Liu] said that it was a talisman and that when he carried it into battle we [the rebels] would be safe from guns and cannon.”8

  In this case, the public demonstration of an invulnerability ritual and the physical symbol of magical powers (a copper snake) sustained thousands of followers until their divine protection was negated by a well-placed shot. Whereas official observers used these anecdotes as proof of peasant superstition and heterodox behavior, for the rebel participant these rituals and the men and women who performed them were physical representations of the integrity of the rebel cause; their bold visibility was central to their power to rally their forces.

  Another practice shared by sectarian rebels of all stripes was the use of colored sashes, flags and armbands to define association during an uprising (Figure 3.2). These markers served a very pragmatic purpose in clearly identifying friend from foe. The color of the sashes carried religious meaning as well. During the White Lotus uprising, sectarians uniformly wore white; Susan Naquin suggests that this color symbolized the “White Yang” era heralded in
the millenarian prophesies.9 The cloth sashes were standard equipment according to the testimony of one Hubei rebel:

  Figure 3.2 A company of “Boxers” in the streets of Tianjin. While contemporary observers may not have recognized the order in the rebel ranks, the use of simple accoutrements such as armbands (see figure in foreground) and colored sashes were an important means of distinguishing the rebel actors from the civilian populace, as well as a clear indicator of an individual’s commitment to the rebel cause. Flags such as the one carried by the figure in the foreground of the photo were used to organize the rebels into military formations. From: Whiting View Company, c1901. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs, Boxer Rebellion, 1900. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cph.3g03917

  This year, in the second month, [Teacher] Li heard of the uprising in [nearby] Jingzhou [and decided to act]. He called on me to join the rebel band. We agreed to meet at his house on the twenty-sixth of the month; we would wear white cloth sashes as markers and bring weapons from home.10

  There were secular and spiritual reasons to don the required colors. When a high-ranking leader told his followers that “Only those wearing yellow amulets or carrying white banners will avoid harm,” he implied that these markers would be visible to human and heavenly eyes alike.11 Colored banners and signal flags also denoted hierarchy in the rebel ranks, providing direction in the tumult of battle. The simplicity of these implements belied the organization that they symbolized. A White Lotus sectarian described a hierarchy that ordered over fifteen thousand rebels in Hubei: thirty generals, fifty lieutenant colonels, two hundred colonels, and numerous lesser officials.12 The organization of the Taiping forces was even more elaborate: one observer asserted that in each Taiping army, there were a total of 656 flags used to signal the ranks from sergeant to general.13

  Flags, sashes and armbands acquired great significance following the outbreak of rebellion: possession of these pieces of cloth connoted membership in the fellowship of the faithful and conveyed the authority of organized violence; possession also indelibly marked the holder a criminal. An elite observer of the rebellion noted that mercenaries fighting for the state used this situation to their own advantage: “If they kill an ordinary person, they say they found a piece of white cloth [indicating rebel sympathies].”14 Overzealous defenders needed to only mention the color white to justify wanton slaughter. Qing officials also sought to exploit the rebels’ penchant for cloth banners. One commander equipped his troops with white flags and sought to draw the rebel forces out from their encampment, as rebel leader Zhang Zhengmo recounted:

  [After months of siege], conditions [in the rebel camp] were desperate. I talked with [fellow leader] Liu and we decided to send messengers to [an affiliated rebel camp] seeking assistance. A couple of weeks later, I saw white flags in the distance, slowly approaching. I thought help had arrived and wanted to go meet them. Liu stopped me, saying, “We haven’t heard back from the messengers—we cannot be rash.” Later, when I saw the white flags coming closer, I again wanted to go down to meet them, and Liu stopped me again. So I sent some subordinates out and they were immediately captured. As for the messengers, they were also killed.15

  The rebels identified themselves with the bearers of the white flags; it was only thanks to the suspicions of one prescient leader that the group was able to see beyond that association and avoid an ambush.

  Awe-inspiring descriptions and iconic talismans explained and exemplified sectarian beliefs to thousands of followers; in times of upheaval, ritual performance and display of sacred objects served to reassure uncertain participants of the sanctity of their organized violence. One could allude to the prevalent illiteracy among the peasant class as one reason explaining the theatricality of popular movements, but most important was the visibility of the rituals and costumes which unified an insurgent group. Flashes of color served to guide movement; a clear manifestation of authority as demonstrated by clothing and equipment helped to focus people with little prior knowledge of battle. Successful manipulation of symbols ultimately transformed the hurly-burly of revolt and battle into a comprehensible spectacle for a rebel audience. Where others saw chaos, the rebels saw order; where others saw perversity and treason, the rebels saw the possibility of a new world.

  Elite Observers

  Generally speaking, the upper classes in Qing society, a.k.a. the lettered elite, regarded the rebel population with hostility and suspicion. To these educated men, rebels personified heterodoxy and the irrational forces of popular superstition.16 For example, Peng Yanqing, an observer of the White Lotus uprising in Hubei, characterized local sectarians thusly: “They reject their livelihood, disrespect their family, and distance themselves from all that they should uphold.”17 One can find a similar verdict in the following elite-authored anecdote from the Taiping Rebellion:

  In [January 1853] the [Taiping] rebels captured Wuchang city [in Hubei Province]. On January 18 they erected a platform in the square; the rebel leader ascended the platform and announced that he would “preach the way of truth.”18 His followers beat gongs throughout the city and ordered the inhabitants to come and listen. Among the latter was a scholar named Ma, who pushed his way through the crowd and approached the platform, saying that he had an important announcement. The rebel leader called him up and asked what he wanted to say. Ma said: “Everything that you have just said offends Heaven and goes against Nature. It is as meaningless as a dog barking. What is this ‘truth’ of which you speak? Let me tell you: where there is society, there are the Five Relationships.19 You rebels [indiscriminately] call each other ‘brother,’ which goes against the relationship between ruler and ruled. Fathers and sons are called ‘brother’; wives and daughters are called ‘sister.’ This goes against the relationship between father and son. Men and women are separated into different groups and not allowed to see each other; this goes against the relationship between husband and wife.20 Friends and family are separated, which goes against the relationships between friends and brothers. Thus, the Five Relationships have been completely abrogated. All this leaves is the ‘brothers’ relationship which you cite in your speech. So how is it that you don’t recognize blood relationships and physically separate brothers while calling complete strangers ‘brother?’21 Given this perversity and deceit, it’s obvious that you’re nothing but a useless profligate.” Ma cursed the rebel in this way without pause. The rebel became enraged and ordered that Ma be drawn and quartered. His minions attached each of Ma’s limbs to a horse and tied his braid to a fifth. They used whips to urge the horses forward, but the animals would not budge. Meanwhile, Ma continued to curse the rebels as before. Ultimately the rebels pulled out their knives and hacked Ma to pieces.22

  Ma’s orthodox diatribe against the Taiping ideology clearly demonstrates the elite attitude toward the rebels’ beliefs; in failing to conform to Confucian standards, the rebels were not only heretics but also sociopaths, a point demonstrated vividly in the conclusion of the story, where the horses prove themselves more humane than the rebels in refusing to punish Ma for speaking the true “way of truth.”

  It is impossible to know whether the event narrated above did in fact occur on January 18, 1853. Nevertheless, it is easy to appreciate the visual aspects of the story, as well as to acknowledge how this imagery would contribute to the impact of the anecdote as it was told, retold, and recorded. One can imagine how the rebels might have “seen” the event: the ability to corral people together and compel them to listen to a newly-defined orthodoxy, as well as to punish those who did not comply, signaled a new world order—at least temporarily. For elite observers, the reverse was true. Ma’s lecture portrays the rebel ideology as nonsense, even farcical, while his fate portrays the rebels as brutish and ignorant.

  Casting or “seeing” rebels as strange was not limited to the period of the Taiping rebellion. Peng Yanqing, cited above, narrated his impressions of the rebel masses on the eve of the siege of Dangyang city in 1796:

  I ascen
ded the tower and looked out [beyond the city walls]; I could see people in the distance. [Actually], there were people who didn’t seem like people and objects which didn’t seem like objects. When [the person] grasping the white flag moved forward, the crowd would follow behind like a school of fish: when the flag moved, the crowd moved; when the flag stopped, the crowd stopped; when the flag turned, the crowd turned. To my bewildered eyes it looked as if the flag were the leader.23

  As with the story above, this brief account is quite potent in its use of imagery; descriptions of disembodied flags and a school of fish serve to illustrate the distance between the elite observer and the rebel party. From the elite viewpoint, the activity of the rebels is almost incomprehensible.

  The presence of women among the ranks of religious rebels was further occasion for elite comment. Although it was not uncommon for women to participate in religious sects nor for entire families to join a rebel movement, the manifold sightings of women during times of upheaval apparently disconcerted men whose wives rarely ventured beyond their own thresholds.24 Given the attention this subject received in first-hand accounts, it seems that the spectacle of women assembling in public was equivalent to the appearance of rebel bands outside one’s city: both were extraordinary and both were threatening. Furthermore, the one implicated the other. Emerging from a rebel-occupied city during the White Lotus uprising, Peng Yanqing noted that “there were women all over the hillside, white heads everywhere.” As he fled the area, he came upon even stranger sights: