Join a Discussion on China's Future
By SETH FAISON
EIJING -- The most amazing thing about the well-organized protest that occurred here on Sunday was the ease with which more than 10,000 followers of
a religious sect materialized at the door of China's leadership and then vanished.
To the authorities, who are nervous about any unsanctioned gathering, it can only be deeply unsettling that so many people assembled without warning, essentially walking up to the secretive compound where China's leaders
live and work, and sitting silently for an entire day.
Unlike student protesters who noisily thronged the streets of Beijing with colorful banners and pungent slogans 10 years ago, Sunday's demonstrators drew no attention to themselves and attracted no notice until there
were suddenly many thousand of them sitting quietly in one of the most politically sensitive locations in the nation.
They looked like ordinary people from different parts of China, which they were. Here lies a puzzle -- and for China's leaders, the scariest thing about the protest.
As followers of a sect of qigong (pronounced chee-goong), a traditional Chinese teaching that human energy can be cultivated by yoga-like disciplines and directed to improve one's own health, to heal others and, when
mastered, to achieve powers like flying, the protesters represent an amorphous and hard-to-control body that is deeply confident and far-reaching.
An overwhelming majority of Chinese believe in qigong to some extent, making it hard to know exactly who belongs to the sect called Buddhist Law, which carried out the protest.
Buddhist Law, led by a qigong master named Li Hongzhi, claims to have more than 100 million followers. Even if that is an exaggeration, the government's estimate of 70 million adherents represents a large group in
a nation of 1.2 billion.
Throughout Chinese history, mysticism has played a critical role in times of political turmoil, attracting adherents confused by sudden changes in society and becoming explosively violent when the authorities act to suppress
them.
Anyone who doubts the potential strength of such a sect need only have witnessed the protest Sunday, when the followers seemed to appear from nowhere, sitting immobile and silent on sidewalks in the heart of Beijing. Even
if efforts by many of them to direct mystical energy at the leadership compound fell short, their impressive organization left a significant imprint on Beijing.
Conducting a demonstration in this city is no easy trick. Plainclothes police and informers are everywhere, keeping an eye out for any hint of organized protest. Even lone protesters who tried to unfurl banners on the street
during a meeting of China's legislature last month were whisked away, usually within minutes.
Beijing returned to normal Monday, as the police tightened security outside the leadership compound, blocking pedestrians from the street where China's leaders come and go from their compound, Zhongnanhai.
Premier Zhu Rongji met several representives of the sect on Sunday, and directed government officials Monday to form a clear strategy to handle the group's complaints, The Associated Press reported. The state-run media
remained silent about the protest.
Chinese leaders are in a bind: Acting decisively against a qigong sect clearly risks a greater counterreaction; allowing large protests is an invitation to other kinds of demonstrations, including the overtly political.
The government position has so far remained ambiguous. Hundreds of sects of qigong have flourished in recent years as China has become a less regimented society. While officials approve of harmless health exercises, they
are alarmed at the appearance of popular qigong masters, some of whom fool followers with crass get-rich-quick schemes, while others like Li command fervent followers who believe their sect is morally superior to any
other organization, including the Communist Party.
"The government has never banned qigong and other bodybuilding activities," said a spokeman for China's State Council. "It is understandable that there are different views and opinions. They should be
expressed through proper channels."
Buddhist Law, founded by Li in 1992, mixes traditional Chinese teaching with Buddhism and Taoism to urge its followers to be good citizens by leading a moral life, not to smoke or drink or have sexual relations outside
marriage, and to resist the consumerism that has swept China.
Sunday's protest was apparently set off by an incident in Tianjin, where practitioners staged a protest last week after a local magazine ran an article maligning Buddhist Law and the police used force to drive away
followers.
The group decided that the time had come to demand that the central government clarify its stand on qigong sects so that the group can practice legally, protesters said. They also want the authorities to ease restrictions
on publishing books of Buddhist Law teachings.
Those demands sound innocuous. Yet because Buddhist Law commands such a huge following, and has now shown that it can execute well-organized and disciplined demonstrations, it must cause deep concern to Chinese leaders.
