Compassion Magazine: Righteous Resistance
One of a series of articles from the most recent edition of Compassion
Magazine, a publication of the Falun Dafa Information Center. This article was
written by Levi Browde. A grassroots movement, like no other in history, is growing in China It used to be you could hardly turn a corner in China without a taste of
Falun Gong. Practitioners filled the nation's parks at the break of dawn for
their Taichi-like exercises. Its texts, regularly bestsellers, lined the shelves
of Wangfujing's bookstores. And in the summer of 1999, countless adherents
filled the streets of China's capital in protest of an unlawful ban that would
soon to morph into what leading human rights attorneys have called
"genocide." If in the 1990s Falun Gong was in the Chinese public's eye, as the new
century approached so too was it in the West's: in 1999 and 2000 reports of bold
Falun Gong pro- tests on Tiananmen Square as well as, oft en, their tragic
consequences, were daily news in the Western press. Most any avid news reader
could claim at least some inkling of familiarity with the group and its ban. But
since then, as told in the essay here by Leeshai Lemish, Falun Gong has largely
disappeared off the media's radar, if not the public's consciousness. And
indeed, gone are the days of thousands assembled in protest at the symbolic
heart of the Chinese state; the trademark yellow banners, shouts of protest, and
open shows of police violence in response have largely been absent over the past
six years. Then where has the Falun Gong gone, if anywhere? And what has become of it?
Has the world's largest communist state--a Goliath against a David by any
reckoning-- pulled off its proposed "solution" to the "Falun Gong
problem"--that is, "eradication"? Many have read the absence of
public protest as a tacit "yes." However, little could be further from
the truth. The force, or inspiration, behind Falun Gong's early protests has not died
out, and much less has its following. Quite the opposite, it has only grown,
matured, and evolved. With a tenacity born of spiritual conviction, the group
has weathered eight years of brutality to today stand as a catalyst for social
and political change in China on a scale few could have imagined. At present it
is waging a human rights effort comprised of everything from phone calls to
flyers, public exposure to cable splicings, underground print shops, and even
the arts. And daily, a chorus of non-Falun Gong voices is joining in, tired of
oppressive rule, to demand change. As little-known as this is in the West, it likely amounts to the single
largest grassroots movement in the history of China--if not the world. Never has
Chinese history seen a movement of the sort, blending as it does nonviolence,
high-tech, and religious conviction. This is a story that, once complete, will
likely be told in China for generations to come.
Coercion and Crisis By late 2001, China's Falun Gong found themselves at the receiving end of a
Maoist-style campaign designed to "eradicate" the meditation group.
For many the darkest days of communist rule had returned. It was in that year
China's leaders officially sanctioned "the systematic use of violence
against the group," according to the Washington Post, combined with "a
network of brainwashing classes" and a campaign to "weed out followers
neighborhood by neighborhood and workplace by workplace... No Falun Gong member
is supposed to be spared." The Post told of James Ouyang, a 35-year-old
electrical engineer, and other adherents like him "being beaten, shocked
with electric truncheons, and forced to undergo unbearable physical
pressure." One Party official who had advised the regime on the suppression
stated that, "All the brutality, resources and persuasiveness of the
Communist system is being used--and is having an effect." And so it seemed.
Ouyang, as the Post's story recounted, had by the time of his release from labor
camp confinement denounced Falun Gong's teachings and rejected the practice. He
had joined the ranks of the "reformed," as Party officials call them.
Statistically, his break from the practice meant one less student of the Falun
Gong. But was this what Ouyang really wanted? Was it an expression of his own will,
of free choice, or of some realization? Hardly. The Post story tells in heart-wrenching detail how Ouyang was "reduced
to an 'obedient thing'" over the course of ten days of torture. He was
stripped and interrogated for five hours at a time. Any failure to reply
"correctly" (with a "yes") led to repeated shocking with
electric truncheons. He was ordered to stand still facing a wall; for any
movement, he was shocked; for collapsing of fatigue, he was shocked. By day six
Ouyang couldn't so much as see straight--the result of staring at plaster three
inches from his face all that time. He was then shocked yet again, his knees
having buckled, after which he finally gave in to the guards' demands. For the
following three days he denounced Falun Gong's teachings. Still officers
continued to shock him, causing him to repeatedly soil himself. Only by day 10
was the denunciation deemed "sufficiently sincere" by authorities. He
was then transferred to brainwashing classes, where after 20 days of 16-hour
sessions and a formal, videotaped rejection of Falun Gong, Ouyang finally
"graduated." Cases of "reform" like Ouyang's are quickly
held up by Party officials as models of success. Hence the videotaping. To the
larger world outside the labor camp, or those tucked away in Beijing's
central leadership compound, it looked indeed as if the Party-state was scoring
"victories" against the Falun Gong. But lost upon onlookers was--and
oft en still is--the tenuous nature of such "successes." Few have considered how terribly forced, and fragile, they are. They are
predicated upon the regime's ability to coerce. They demand of people statements
they do not believe in, and do so, oft en, with stunning displays of cruelty.
The "transformed" individual, once back out in the world, is always a
liability for the state. He must be made to continually feel threatened, to be
reminded of the pain and brutality once felt. He must be isolated, lest
interactions with other, "unreformed" adherents rekindle that original
affinity with the practice. And he must be deprived, in terms of access to the
written teachings of the practice, or even dissenting (non-state controlled)
information about what is being done to its followers. Failing any of these
coercive measures, the "transformation" might well wear off . This has of course been a dangerous proposition for a government that cannot
afford to provide basic education or health care to hundreds of millions of
rural citizens who suffer abject poverty, or that witnessed some 87,000 riots
and "mass incidents" just three years ago. Does it really have the
resources, or the charisma, to pull off such tactics forever? As one New York
Times correspondent put it, writing in 1999, "Has it come to this: that the
Chinese Communist Party is terrified of retirees in tennis shoes who follow a
spiritual master in Queens?" Nor would it seem China's rulers have considered the long-term stakes of the
campaign. What does it mean for the world's largest political regime to outlaw
and try to "eradicate" a group of meditators who aspire to live a life
of virtue? The Xinhua News Agency, the official mouthpiece of China's Communist
Party, affirmed what the Party was up against in an unwittingly candid
commentary just one week into the campaign. Xinhua declared that, "In fact,
the so-called 'truth, kindness, and forbearance' principle preached by [Falun
Gong's teacher] Li Hongzhi has nothing in common with the socialist ethical and
cultural progress we are striving to achieve." Others, such as China-analyst Willy Lam, soon observed the deadly fruits the
Party was reaping. Writing in the same year of Ouyang's ordeal (2001), Lam
declared that, "China is on the brink of a chengxin crisis that threatens
not only to tear asunder its moral fabric, but derail economic and political
reforms." "Chengxin," Lam explains elsewhere in his essay, is the
Chinese term for "honesty" and "trustworthiness." Today, nearly a decade into the campaign against Falun Gong, the chengxin
crisis has sunk to new depths as witnessed in the by-now daily revelations of
tainted goods issuing forth from China. Few have connected poisoned toothpaste
to the plight of Falun Gong, but the connection seems hardly a stretch. Knock
out of the picture 100 million of your country's best citizens, and scare
witless anyone who would try to live similarly to them, and you have a recipe
for disaster. Or poisoned cough syrup, if you will. Returning Many persons like Ouyang never really came to loathe Falun Gong. The
denunciations for the vast majority of "reformed" adherents were wrung
out of them, quite literally, with torture and threat. What they did learn to
loathe, however, was the Party-state. Ouyang told the Washington Post,
"Now, whenever I see a policeman and those electric truncheons, I feel
sick, ready to throw up." The professions of Party loyalty secured in the
bowels of China's gulag, in other words, did not quite amount to Revolutionary
zeal. Instead, witnesses from China suggest, they bred a deep resentment of the
oppressor. And questioning. As the title of an essay by Falun Gong's teacher put
it, "Coercion cannot change people's hearts." Falun Gong had given so
many so much--vibrant health, newfound meaning, mended relationships, and a
positively contagious sense of optimism. To renounce the practice was for many a
return to a state of brokenness. It wasn't long, then, before public
declarations nullifying the forced recanting began to appear. Titled
"solemn declarations," the statements started appearing on Falun
Gong's main website, Minghui.org, en masse. Hundreds of adherents were writing
professions every day. Tong Shixun, who was abused by authorities in a Shandong
province labor camp, wrote in September of 2001 that he wished to "solemnly
declare as null and void everything I said and wrote while I was not in my right
mind as a result of intense persecution." Like many others, his declaration
was accompanied by a vow to resist the persecution. "I'm determined about
my practice, and will seize this opportunity of time to expose the evil taking
place," Tong wrote. "I will redouble my efforts to clarify the truth
and set right my mistakes." Today, seven years later, a staggering 394,000 some statements have been
received by the website. The figure gives a glimpse at the massive changes
happening. Consider what goes into each single statement. First the individual
must be willing to make a public declaration. This act alone can land, and has
landed, one back in the gulag. Then the person must have access to the Internet;
unlike in the United States, only 1 in every 26 persons in China owns a
computer, let alone has Internet access. Additionally, just to reach the Minghui
website--and know of the possibility of a declaration--requires access to
sophisticated soft ware, so tight is China's Internet censorship. Finally, to
communicate one's statement to the website is itself a task, as a vast array of
Internet filters and monitors are in place to prevent any communication about
Falun Gong from taking place. We might imagine that for every person who issues
a statement that makes it through and gets tallied, another 50 adherents exist
who have returned to the practice unannounced. Accounts from even remote, rural
villages received by Minghui's editors and the Falun Dafa Information Center
confirm this sense. Many report that the vast majority of their locale's
pre-1999 ban practitioners have returned to Falun Gong, often with a commitment
stronger for it. In some cases taking up Falun Gong is not so much a matter of return, but
beginning. Such was the case for 32-year-old Zhang Xueling, of Shandong
province. According to the Wall Street Journal, Zhang took up the practice after
a chance encounter in jail. Zhang had been incarcerated for probing the death of
her mother, Chen Zixiu, 58, who was murdered by Chinese police for her faith. In
prison Zhang met a number of Falun Gong prisoners of conscience. They were the
only persons kind to her in the prison, she observed. The experience moved her.
After her release she herself began to practice Falun Gong. "I used to be a materialist and believed that everything in life could
be gained from hard work," Zhang told the Journal. "But Falun Dafa
makes more sense. At its root are three principles: truthfulness, compassion,
and tolerance. If we adhere to these, isn't that a deeper meaning to life?"
Sources in China point out, however, that many have held to the faith right
through, defying any attempts at Party "transformation." Some have
simply gone untouched. Many have weathered the storm. Others, as in the case of
Ms. Gao Rongrong, a 37-year old accountant in Shenyang city, have paid the
ultimate price. Gao was tortured to death in the grisliest of fashions for
refusing to recant. To date more than 3,000 Falun Gong are known to have been
killed in the persecution. Conviction If the Falun Gong's mounting size has grown unnoticed to outside observers,
so too has its strength. Particularly, its strength of conviction. If the
greatest nonviolent movements of the 20th century are any indicator, however,
this is an oversight. Gandhi once proclaimed that, "A small body of
determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the
course of history." Much less one that is millions strong, tempered, and
growing. The first layer of conviction is the more immediate of the two. From the
fateful July day in 1999 when their faith was outlawed, the Falun Gong have
considered their plight to be (quite rightly) a case of flagrant injustice. That
is, the banning, and subsequent escalation to violence and killing, contravened
China's constitution on multiple fronts as well as international covenants
signed by China. Freedom of religious belief, at least on paper, is ensured in
China. It was not until October that China's legislature enacted laws that would
legitimate the group's suppression-- never mind that they were being applied
retroactively. The practice had broken no laws with its quiet, placid gatherings
in China's parks, nor even with its mass gathering to petition the central
government near Zhongnanhai, the central leadership compound, in April of 1999
after several of its practitioners were physically assaulted by Tianjin city
police. (In fact, it had been Tianjin authorities who directed them to the
central petitioning office in Beijing.) This is a conviction that runs deep, for
it is shaped on a spiritual level. Many quickly realized the persecution was
directed at not so much what they did, as what they believed--at who they were.
The stakes were altogether different What was on the line was not so much loss
of rights, but of self, or soul. One practitioner from China, Sao Ming, has described this sense, saying,
"My personal experience shows that the persecution of Falun Gong is
completely targeting our belief." Zhao was tortured in a Beij ing labor
camp, where he was held for two years. "[It] is completely persecution of
our spiritual belief. We didn't do anything illegal ... torture is used to
'transform' people into machine-like puppets without a conscience, who can be
used as instruments to harm others." Indeed, if the whole basis of the
Falun Gong is to become morally outstanding and healthy persons, one wonders
what exactly China's rulers wish to "transform" them into instead. But
brainwashing is not easily enacted in this case, of course. For so many of the
Falun Gong, the practice proved a wellspring of inspiration and goodness. For
some it was a source of renewed health and vigor. For others it was a philosophy
with deep resonances, a new lens through which to see and navigate life, at once
empowering and ennobling. It also gave meaning to suffering, much as in the
Buddhist faith; most came to see it as suffused with spiritual value. Thus, two
things naturally followed with the onset of persecution. First, it was not
something people were about to drop overnight. And secondly, they were willing
to suffer for their faith. The persecution was not just an affront on
politically- granted rights: it was a form of violence to humanity, or even to
the cosmos. The process of self-cultivation, as they call it, is a path of
effacing self as much as anything, of putting others first, even at the expense
of one's own welfare, when need be. The Party, in a word, had picked on
something bigger than even its own size. But conviction has also had a second layer for China's Falun Gong amidst all
this, one that is more outwardly directed. This latter conviction is born of a
sense of compassion, of outward concern, nurtured by the practice. Recall that
the process of self-cultivation (see page 53) is a path of effacing self as
anything, of putting others first, even at the expense of one's own welfare, if
need be. In this case, though, it is not so much fellow Falun Gong that the
adherent is concerned over (though this is certainly the case as well), but the
average fellow citizen. Other citizens are caught up in the ordeal, and equally
victims, the Falun Gong feel. That is, insofar as the individual has been misled
by the Party's crusade against the Falun Gong, and learned, from it, to hate.
When practitioners of the Falun Gong speak of such persons as having been
"poisoned" by Party propaganda, they refer to a form of harm and
contamination to the soul. And as the Falun Gong teaches to love one's neighbor
as oneself, few are the adherents not compelled to extend a helping hand to
these persons. One member likened it to helping a sick child who, when infected,
is compromised and at risk but oblivious to it. I have seen a number of persons
speak similarly of such folk, the "other victims," with tears in their
eyes. History supports Falun Gong's perspective here, for how else could one
view, say, the youths of Germany who, through a daily diet of anti-semitic
rants, learned over time to hate the Jew and even take part in his slaughter.
Though probably most of China's Falun Gong have never heard of Martin Luther
King Jr., daily they would seem to testify to his pronouncement: "At the
center of non-violence stands the principle of love." From Banners to Bandwidth Of this conviction has arisen an incredible tale of unlikely, and unsung,
acts of tremendous courage. And acts from those we might least expect--the
elderly, the young, the broken--to be a force for change in China. What began as
a simple call for a breathing space has grown into a massive rights effort
involving a stunning array of participants and means. Few in the West have a
sense for the history now in the making. At first the Falun Gong's efforts were
informed by a belief, perhaps at times naﶥ, that the persecution was in
effect a colossal misunderstanding. That is, that the Communist Party leadership
had somehow got it wrong; they didn't understand what Falun Gong was about,
really. How else could this have happened, many recall asking, when the group,
which has no political ambitions, strove only to be the best of citizens and
neighbors? Thus it was off to the capital of Beij ing and other provincial
centers to petition authorities. Since the dawn of the Chinese empire a system
whereby citizens can "petition" the ruler has been in place, allowing
ordinary citizens a means to express grievances and seek redress. As many as 10
million petitions were filed in one recent year, reports Human Rights Watch, and
at any given time some 10,000 such persons ("petitioners" as they're
called) might throng Beijing's streets. It was a natural first recourse thus when the ban was announced on July 22,
1999. And indeed, just a few months prior, on April 25, a happy resolution
seemed to have come about when several thousand Falun Gong petitioned the
central government; then-Premier Zhu Rongji had personally met with
representatives of the group and given assurances. What adherents could little have imagined, however, was just how
disinterested authorities were in hearing Falun Gong's concerns. Untold
thousands found themselves arrested for trying to petition, though it is a state
appointed right. Within a short time it was learned all petition offices had
orders to arrest any Falun Gong who came through their doors. Jiang Zemin, who
ordered the suppression, was said to have burned barrels of letters sent to him by beleaguered members of the group. Soon violence came into the picture, with increasing frequency and degree.
Witnesses reported beatings in public. Deaths came to light. And the news media
clearly had but one agenda--one that was set by the Party. By the end of the
campaign's first month the People's Daily, the voice of the Party, had carried a
staggering 347 articles denouncing the Falun Gong. Propaganda marathons piped
into homes throughout the nation around the clock through state-run television,
branding Falun Gong a menace to society. And merely seven days into the
campaign, authorities boasted of having confiscated more than 2 million
"illegal" Falun Gong books; some cities even witnessed book burning
rallies, courtesy of the Public Security Bureau. Now the group had not only a
group of thick-skulled authorities to try to enlighten--the entire citizenry now
stood to be confused. Adherents thus took their petitions public as it were.
Prominent symbolic spaces like Tiananmen Square became the site of contestation.
Farmers, businesspeople, nurses, scientists, and even young kids could be seen
unfurling yellow banners. Meant to educate, as much as anything, the message oft
en declared "Falun Gong is Good!" or "Restore Falun Dafa's
Name." Party authorities proved no more amenable, predictably, to these acts.
Typically the demonstrator would meet with fists and feet from Chinese police,
followed by interrogation and then jailing or three years in a labor camp. The
toll was heavy, and palpably felt. With the year 2002 a changing of the guard
took place, so to speak, followed by a new era of efforts that were more
sophisticated and realistic, if not more determined. It was that year that a
group of 50 some Western followers of Falun Gong traveled to Tiananmen and
declared, again with yellow banner, simply "Truthfulness, Compassion,
Tolerance." By that time few Chinese followers were traveling to Tiananmen
anymore, for various reasons, and even fewer would thereafter. It was the mark
of a new era, though one in which Tiananmen would factor very little, oddly
enough. Now the efforts would spread out to every city, street, alley and home.
By March of the same year, Falun Gong adherents in the northeastern city of
Changchun (the practice's birthplace, notably) managed to tap into the lines of
a major cable network and replace normal programming with an informational video
about Falun Gong. The feature ran on eight different channels and lasted fully
forty-five minutes. For thousands of city residents it was the first time in
three years they were privy to independent depictions of the practice and its
plight; simply trying to read about Falun Gong online could land one in jail. So
shaken was the government--local as well as central-- that marshal law was
ordered in Changchun and a manhunt begun. Orders were to "shoot to
kill" and "shoot on sight" any seen attempting another tapping.
Those involved in the episode were tracked down eventually, tortured, and
killed. Reports of similar feats of engineering soon came in from other provinces,
such as Sichuan and Liaoning, with parallel Party reactions. The stakes on both
sides had raised exponentially. Around this time as well underground print
shops, called "materials sites" by those involved, began mushrooming
throughout the country. These were China's closest answer to grassroots media in
an informational landscape monopolized by the Party- state. Humble and roughly
hewn, the sites were oft en tucked away in the corner of a Falun Gong adherent's
home. At their most basic, they would involve a printer of some sort; some,
perhaps, a copier and possibly a computer. Here, in cramped quarters, the
determined would assemble an array of homemade media--typically flyers,
pamphlets, and VCDs. Then, usually under the cover of night, teams of practitioners (or sometimes
lone individuals) would set out across a given locale to distribute the goods.
By the break of dawn flyers could be seen resting in bicycle baskets and posted
on city walls; VCDs slipped under front doors; or pamphlets tucked under
wiperblades or perhaps in a mailbox. By March 2002 the Washington Post had
reported that thousands of VCDs were appearing in major cities. Meanwhile, one
woman who has since escaped from China, Wang Yuzhi, describes in her memoir
Chuanyue Shengsi (Crossing the Boundary of Life and Death) that as early as
mid-2001, she had in one three-day span printed several hundred thousand flyers,
which others in Heilongjiang province then distributed. For others, as with
Wang, all expenses come out of their own pockets. With time, the materials sites have grown only more robust, as has
distribution. Several cities now report regular, non-Falun Gong citizens getting
into the act of printing and distributing these materials. Banners still unfold
in support of the Falun Gong in China, but in a far less geographically focused
manner than in the first two years. Whereas before Tiananmen was where all good
banners went to serve, in recent years they have multiplied and spread to a
creative array of places and spaces. On any given morning one might awake to see
banners hung from bridges, apartment balconies, trees, telephone It's not just affirmative slogans that hang of late, however. Posters
exposing persons, or entities, responsible for persecution now plaster targeted
locales when problems come to light. Falun Gong practitioners will oft en
canvass a given area after learning of rights abuses, often torture, at the
hands of a certain police officer or official. The idea is to "expose
locally," as it's called, and the effect is often immediate and palpable.
An abusive prison guard might awake one day to see flyers posted on the walls of
his building detailing his acts of evil at the local detention center; neighbors
will likely have received the fl your, as will have relatives, co-workers, and a
host of others. In a country where "saving face" reigns supreme,
experience is showing that thugs can be "shamed straight," so to
speak. Such exposure gains added weight, however, when put online and brought to the
attention of the outside world. While it's no simple feat to get such
information out of China, volumes of it still manage to get through. A
formidable part of the package is the "Fawanghuihui. org" ("Vast
Net of Justice") website, which at any given time might offer profiles of
as many as 51,000 "evildoers." A typical entry includes the
authority's name, work unit, gender, position, and phone number. The last part--a phone number--is critical, and ties in to another grassroots
effort of incredible proportions: phone calls. With petitioning offices sealed
for the Falun Gong, and no recourse through the courts, adherents have had to
become a legal system unto themselves. If websites such as Fawanghuihui.org and
Minghui.org serve as virtual courts, phone calls to perpetrators are certainly
one of the sentences. Across China and from countries around the world,
adherents have been placing volumes of calls--staggering in quantity--to those
most directly responsible for the group's suffering. But what's the hope? Not so much "shaming straight" in this case.
Rather, it goes back to the convictions shared by practitioners of Falun Gong.
Principal among them is that every human being, no matter how base his actions,
contains within the seeds of goodness, and on this account, is to be cherished.
Reaching out is seen as an act of compassion; the perpetrator is harming
himself, ultimately, as he harms others. Many describe their telephone
conversations as attempts to "awaken" the "good" side of the
perpetrator, to stir his or her conscience. Some authorities have declared
openly over the phone: "I will never harm your people again--I was
wrong." Victories in life come in many forms. Given that there is no public space allowed to China's Falun Gong, be it
physical or social, victories such as these are shared in virtual spaces, such
as the Internet. No entity is of greater importance here than the Minghui. org
website. Now in its eighth year, the site bridges communities both within China
and around the world, and much more. It produces a range of publications ready
for printing and distributing in China, even offering brief videos to burn to
CD, with a choice of various, discreet labels. There one can find even the nuts
and bolts of successful nonviolent protest: one of the web pages diagrams the
parts and assembly of a banner-slingshot (for lack of a better term) by which
one can hurl and unfurl a banner high above in treetops or over telephone
wires--well out of harm's reach. The site's daily online publication, meanwhile,
has become a veritable gold mine of information and inspiration. Reports of
persecution in China document torture and identify victims in need of help;
accounts of activities around the world provide hope and awareness; forums
provide a venue for the exchange of ideas; personal essays narrate individuals'
growth in the practice and fortitude in the face of oppression; and of course,
"solemn declarations" allow those who have been broken by torture and
brainwashing to begin anew. On any given day the site might receive
communications from several hundred individuals. This is not, of course, as easy as it sounds: Minghui. org and all of its kin
are banned by the Chinese regime, and a mere visit to their webpages from inside
China-- should you manage to elude internet blocks--could mean a trip to prison. Again, a coordinated international effort proves critical. Falun Gong
practitioners in the West have since the earliest days of the persecution worked
painstakingly to develop and deploy Internet technologies that break through the
regime's censorship, and achieved astounding success. Consider this: In 2005,
websites unblocked by Falun Gong's soft ware received on average over 30 million
hits per day from Chinese users. Websites such as Voice of America and Radio
Free Asia have become available to Chinese through these technologies, as have
the uncensored versions of search engines such as Google. No other group of
Internet activists has managed to come remotely close to this degree of success.
And again, this despite almost everything being self-funded and done on a
voluntary basis. Indeed, "a small body of determined spirits" can, if "fired by
an unquenchable faith in their mission" alter the very course of history.
Gandhi knew firsthand. Internet support is just one of several helping hands
from abroad, however. Falun Gong practitioners in the West have matched the
sacrifices of their mainland China counterparts in their own ways, you might
say. For example, while some in China were calling jails and labor camps to talk
with abusive guards, those outside of China were making such calls as well. By
2005, an estimated 30-40 million had been made. Phone lines were given a
workout by means of the fax as well, with overseas adherents sending an average
of 300,000 faxes to China every month. So too has the larger body mailed
informational VCDs and assorted publications into China. Other efforts from the overseas community have included heavy use of Internet
chatrooms as well as the broadcasting of both radio and satellite television
programming into China. All, again, done without any financial compensation and
on a voluntary, spare-time basis. Such is the power of conviction. Leaving the Party After nearly a decade of brutality, humiliation, and privation on account of
their spiritual beliefs, China's Falun Gong have come to see the workings of the
persecution apparatus in vivid relief. A sharpened assessment has come about
with time, one far less optimistic, you might say. Whereas originally certain key figures behind the awful mess could be
identified (e.g., Jiang Zemin, Luo Gan, and Li Lanqing), and clearly many
officials disagreed with the ham handed measures (e.g., Zhu Rongji), with time
that distinction became ever less clear; strong-arm tactics and repeated purges
gradually weeded out dissent from the Party's ranks, solidifying the apparatus.
To disagree was to risk one's career. Those most vigorous in carrying out the
suppression rose quickly through the ranks, with incentives being tied to
obedience at every level of the system. The very Communist Party system itself, it became clear, was the problem.
"It was rotten beyond repair," says Erping Zhang, a spokesperson for
the Falun Gong based in New York. "To change or try to fix any one part,
for instance the courts, is meaningless, when everything from the media to the
educational system to the labor camps is controlled by the Party and made to
serve the Party. The problem is systemic beyond belief." Zhao Ming, who was
tortured in Beijing's Tuanhe Labor Camp, echoes Zhang's interpretation.
"They have been doing this all through the history of the People's Republic
of China. During the 'Cultural Revolution' they destroyed and wiped out all
Chinese traditional beliefs, including Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. No
Westerner can understand this. I would say you can't fathom their actions with a
normal mind." For many, the intensity of the cruelty and hatred they saw foisted upon them
by the Party fomented, as for Zhang and Zhao, a reexamination. Was it just Falun
Gong? Or had the Party done this before, and in other forms? The answer was spelled out in a nine-part critique of the Communist Party,
titled "Nine Commentaries on the Chinese Communist Party" or "Jiu-ping"
(Nine Commentaries) for short after the Chinese name. The series was
published by a Chinese newspaper named Dajiyuan (The Epoch Times), to which a
number of Falun Gong persons contribute time. Within just one month of its
release (November 2004), veritable shockwaves had been sent throughout the halls
of China's rulers and throughout the land. By that time Meng Weizai, the former
director of China's Bureau of Art and Literature, along with Huang Xiaoming, an
Olympic medalist, had declared they were quitting the Party. A flood of
resignations soon began that received the strongest inadvertent verification in
the form of official denials from the likes of the state-run Xinhua news agency.
Other Party actions, otherwise baffling, soon followed, such as mandatory study
sessions and campaigns to increase "Party discipline" and to
"preserve the cutting-edge nature" of the Party. Was the leadership
nervous? Interest in the Commentaries was only piqued by this. In a short time what were originally 100-200 daily withdrawals from the
Party had swelled to thousands; on the day of this writing over 40 million have
quit. (It should be noted that "quitting" refers to the Party itself
and its two affiliate organizations--the Youth League and Young Pioneers, which
many join in China with "blood oaths" at a young age.) But why such a dramatic response, and from so many? Stephen Gregory, an
editor at The Epoch Times, offers this: "After 55 years of lies and terror,
the people of China now have the chance to know their true history. For the
first time, they can share with one another the tremendous losses they have
suffered under the Chinese Communist Party. For the first time, they can step
back from the Communist nightmare and consider the beauty and significance of
the ancient civilization that a change of heart. Chen Yonglin for instance, who
was Consul for Political Affairs of the Consulate-General of China in Sydney,
grew sick of his job there, which consisted largely of spying (unlawfully) on
local Falun Gong devotees. One repentant defector (to Canada), Han Guangsheng,
was Chief of the Shenyang [City] Justice Bureau, and oversaw camps where Falun
Gong were tortured. Another who defected to Australia, Hao Fengjun, had been a
police officer in China's notorious 6-10 operation--charged with eradicating the
group. Each has come forth out of a mix of conviction and regret, knowing full the
Communist Party has worked so hard to destroy." Gregory's remarks suggest
two important points, then. First, that for many, the Commentaries and the
chance to break from the Party is almost cathartic, a cleansing of the soul, and
an occasion for healing and reconciliation with self and past. Second, it is
also a reclaiming--a reclaiming of Chinese culture and history, both of which
have been captive to the whims and caprice of the Party for nearly six decades.
Communism, as the Commentaries make poignantly clear, is the product of 19th
century European thought, not traditional China. The Commentaries in this light might be said to represent an act of
unpoliticizing, rather than the reverse. That is, they seek to disentangle the
specter of Communism from all things Chinese that it has grafted itself onto and
politicized in the vilest of ways--picture Confucius being branded a
"counter-revolutionary" or kids being made to smash Buddhist statues
for their being "feudal superstition." Similarly, for the Falun Gong,
it is the ultimate act of unpoliticizing insofar as the Commentaries are a
personal invitation to renewal and recovery of self--a self free of Party
politics, free of arbitrary abuse, free of terrible cruelty. It is the ultimate
in nonviolent resistance: resistance, or change, at the level of the soul. Impact If banners aren't necessarily a good gauge of things, public statements from
the people, by contrast, are. A growing chorus of voices from throughout China
suggest that all of the Falun Gong's efforts are having an impact, and an
enormous one, at that. As early as 2000 China's prominent figures had begun to cite the example of
the Falun Gong's nonviolent efforts. According to a September Reuters report,
the Chinese poet Huang Beiling had "called on the country's intellectuals
to follow the example of Falun Gong meditators by fighting government oppression
through widespread civil disobedience." The article quoted Huang saying,
"They have been doing this peacefully. When they're beaten, they don't hit
back. The intellectual community should do the same thing." Liu Binyan, oft en called "China's conscience" and the country's
most important journalist in the last 50 years, described the Falun Gong as
having "unprecedented courage," explaining that, "these people
have insisted on exercising their rights even though they know perfectly well
that they will be arrested and some could even face the death penalty. This kind
of attitude is unprecedented in the 50-year history of the PRC." That attitude, and the efforts by China's Falun Gong to convey it to others,
is fostering an admiration not seen in the early years. This past New Years, for
example, hundreds of season's greetings to Mr. Li Hongzhi, Falun Gong's teacher,
were published online, but this time with a twist. Namely, they came not from
Falun Gong adherents, but from supporters and observers who found inspiration in
Falun Gong's conduct. Mr. Hu Ping, a leading Chinese intellectual and author,
described Falun Gong's cable-splicing as a "stunning feat," and
described the main figure, Liu Chengjun, as a "Falun Gong hero" and
"a martyr in the fight for freedom of speech." The impact of the Commentaries has been particularly visible. Take for
instance the call put forth more recently by Gao Zhisheng, a Christian and one
of China's most prominent attorneys. "As for how to bring about nonviolent
change, I would say that the Falun Gong have succeeded at finding a means to
change that will not lead to the shedding of one drop of blood. That approach
is, to persuade people to quit the wicked Party--a party that has done every
form of evil imaginable in this world. My suggestion is to quit the Party and be
closer to God!" Gao, for the record, has referred to his own quitting of
the Party as "the proudest day of my life." Recent years have witnessed a number of defectors from China, each with a
tale involving Falun Gong and well the risks of going public. All three of them
have stated that it was reading the Commentaries that inspired their break. While Party authorities have tried to downplay the impact of the
Commentaries, the move is born of fear, not confidence. Consider this: A 2005
study by the OpenNet Initiative--a collaborative project between institutes at
the University of Toronto, Harvard, and Cambridge--discovered that 90% of tested
Chinese websites containing references to the "Nine Commentaries" (Jiu-ping)
were blocked in China--one of the three highest ratios found in the study. Perhaps most dramatic of all turnarounds has been that of the masses of
Chinese people who were coerced into mistreating Falun Gong. Chinese
citizens--regular, non-Falun Gong citizens--are themselves writing "solemn
declaration" statements, like those discussed in this article earlier, for
publication on Minghui.org. Piece after piece describes having been intimidated,
coerced, and threatened into opposing Falun Gong. In one moving account, a man surnamed Feng described how state-run propaganda
television shows demonizing Falun Gong left him terrified. So scared was he of
the Falun Gong book in his house at the time, he decided to burn it. Shortly
afterwards he became gravely ill. A chance encounter with a friend landed one of
the Minghui.org's publications in his lap, which Falun Gong adherents in China
had printed out after accessing the site through anti-web-jamming technology. It
was then that he realized the television shows programmed him to hate, as had
state-run newspapers. "Falun Gong shouldn't be persecuted," Feng thus
declared in his statement, and vowed to change himself for the better; he began
silently reciting "Truth, Compassion, Tolerance"--Falun Gong's guiding
virtues-- to himself, only to discover, a few days later, that "all my
ailments were gone!" Feng ends his letter by asking forgiveness. To date more than 55,000 public statements like Feng's have been published
online, with several hundred more being submitted each week. Even those who haven't mended their ways have given tacit affirmation to this
growing momentum. History, they would seem to know, is not on their side. Chen
Yonglin has indicated, for example, that many Party officials of high rank have
begun anxiously sending family members abroad. Jiang Zemin and Zeng Qinghong,
major figures in the genocide's orchestration, have tried to gain certification
of immigration status in Australia, Chen says--for themselves. "We're going
to see the Party's collapse in the near future," Chen confidently says. Another unlikely nod came in 2005 when several sources inside China told of
unlikely orders given within the state security apparatus. The plan this time?
To begin destroying documents related to the anti-Falun Gong campaign. The move
was described as "cover up work" in advance of an anticipated reversal
on Falun Gong policy. Or perhaps a larger reversal: of political rule. According to sources in
China, on March 25, 2006, Heilongjiang province's Party headquarters issued a
circular ordering all classified documents issued by the Party's central or
provincial offices destroyed. This time, it was not just a matter of Falun Gong,
but of communist operations more broadly. Has the course of history already changed, then? Hu Ping's assessment, again,
seems prescient. Writing in 2004, Hu weighed in declaring that, "Falun Gong
cannot be defeated. The Communist government of China is one of the most
powerful and dictatorial political regimes in the world; for five years it has
mobilized the entire nation as one machine to destroy Falun Gong, but it hasn't
succeeded. Falun Gong has sustained its integrity during this unprecedented and
horrendous trial." "Even the slightly informed have no doubt that the
suppression will end in total failure. The vitality of Falun Gong cannot be
underestimated, and its prospects for the future are bright." But how does that bode for China? Need change be threatening? Hu's assessment
is reassuring: "Falun Gong is going to play a major role in the revival of
moral values in China." For all of us in the West who use toothpaste, or have pets to feed, that
alone is reason to celebrate. Levi Browde is Executive Director of the Falun Dafa Information Center. He
lives in the New York City area with his wife and two children
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