中国正在扭转对某些宗教的打压,但并非全部
https://www.cfr.org/expert-brief/china-reversing-its-crackdown-some-religions-not-all
专家简报,伊恩·约翰逊 2024 年 5 月 14 日上午 11:02(美国东部标准时间)
中国对宗教自由的打压,尤其是对穆斯林和基督徒的打压,都是有据可查的,这只是北京宗教政策的一部分。另一方面,国家支持“本土宗教”,试图在共产主义意识形态信仰下降的情况下推广传统社会价值观。
人们在中国武汉的佛教归元寺烧香。
人们在中国武汉的佛教归元寺烧香。Hector Retamal/AFP/Getty Images
中国经常位列宗教自由表现最差的国家之列。考虑到对穆斯林维吾尔族的打压和对基督教教堂的摧毁,这是有道理的。这些是美国国务院、美国国际宗教自由委员会以及国际人权监督组织关于中国的报告中的常见内容。
但中国政府对待有组织的宗教也有不利的一面:过去几年,一些宗教开始得到政府的支持。这适用于中国最大的宗教——佛教,以及中国唯一的本土宗教——道教。政府还支持曾经被视为迷信的民间宗教活动,为朝圣和寺庙提供补贴。
推动这些看似矛盾的冲动的是执政的共产党对新合法性来源的需求。随着经济增长放缓,长期以来以繁荣换取政治默许的社会契约变得难以维持。这导致仍然提倡无神论的中国共产党公开支持传统信仰。
中国对“外国”的担忧
国家明确指出,某些宗教优于其他宗教。有两个宗教尤其成问题:伊斯兰教在中国大约有 1700 万信徒,基督教则根据不同的衡量标准估计有 5000 万到 6000 万信徒。国家基本上将他们视为外来宗教,因此不受欢迎。这并不是因为他们在中国存在了很长时间。事实上,自 1601 年耶稣会传教士抵达北京以来,基督教就一直在中国存在,而伊斯兰教则是在公元 7 世纪随波斯商人一起传入中国的。
相反,中共担心的是这些宗教的外国关系。穆斯林是伊斯兰教全球信徒乌玛(阿拉伯语意为“社区”)的一部分,直到最近,虔诚的年轻中国穆斯林还经常在马来西亚和印度尼西亚等穆斯林国家学习。此外,伊斯兰教的五大支柱之一是前往沙特阿拉伯的麦加朝圣。与此同时,基督教徒被认为与海外有着密切的联系,天主教徒与梵蒂冈有联系,新教徒与东南亚和西方的海外华人社区有联系。
相比之下,佛教、道教和民间宗教被视为本土信仰,与海外的联系较少(主要的例外是藏传佛教,其精神领袖达赖喇嘛流亡印度)。早在 2014 年,中国国家主席习近平就开始暗示与佛教的本土联系的重要性。他在巴黎联合国教科文组织总部发表演讲时表示,尽管佛教起源于印度,但几个世纪以来已经本土化,如今已牢牢扎根于中国文化。习近平还赞扬了基督教和伊斯兰教对中国的贡献,但很明显,他并没有说它们已经本土化。
这解释了党对这些信仰的怀疑态度。中国穆斯林面临的问题众所周知,尤其是新疆地区对维吾尔族穆斯林的强制同化。数十万维吾尔族人被送往“再培训营”,官员称他们的目的是学习就业技能。但监督组织认为,这些营地是背离伊斯兰教的重新规划。穆斯林被迫吃猪肉,这是伊斯兰教禁止的,并放弃一些信仰支柱。在最近一次新疆之行中,《经济学人》记者戴维·伦尼报道说,一些穆斯林在斋月期间不被允许斋戒,而斋月是伊斯兰教的义务。
更温和地对待基督教
党对基督教的担忧有所不同。伊斯兰教是少数民族的信仰,大多被隔离在中国边境地区(也许有助于解释这些严厉措施),而汉族多数人,尤其是城市白领专业人士,则信奉基督教。从某种程度上来说,基督教对中共的挑战更大,因为信奉基督教的正是中共实现国家现代化所需要的人。
为了解决这个问题,中共采取了双重措施:
政策。对于天主教,中共通过外交手段寻求控制,天主教徒数量似乎几乎没有增长,只有一千万。2018 年,北京和梵蒂冈同意联合任命中国高级神职人员,北京认为这将减少地下教会的需要。对于可以说是中国最具活力的信仰的新教,中共试图关闭拥有民间社会结构的大型教会。例如,秋雨圣约教会曾经拥有自己的学校、神学院、书店和慈善组织,但于 2019 年被关闭。它是 2000 年代和 2010 年代初在民间社会繁荣时期成长起来的众多城市大型教会之一,但后来民间社会被瓦解。
2015 年 7 月 29 日,中国政府工作人员前来拆除教堂十字架,基督教领袖站在教堂上。
浙江省基督教平信徒领袖屠守哲站在中国当局拆除的教堂十字架旁。美联社
其他教堂也被拆除,通常是字面意义上的。例如,浙江省东部的教堂曾以鲜红色的十字架而闻名。在一些城镇,红色十字架随处可见。然而,在过去十年里,浙江的教堂被拆除,即使信徒仍在聚会,它们在该地区也不再那么引人注目。总体而言,新教堂的数量停滞不前。新建教堂仍在建设,但通常只是为了取代城市更新期间被拆毁的教堂。
原住民例外
相比之下,国家对所谓原住民信仰的处理截然不同。总的来说,他们的礼拜场所没有被拆除或受到限制。统计数据和我的实地观察表明,佛教和道教的宗教场所和参与人数正在增加。
然而,问题的关键在于民间信仰,即中国政府也认可的民间信仰。官方说法称,民间信仰在中国并不是一种宗教,而是地方和民间神灵的统称。在二十世纪的大部分时间里,中国的现代化者——共产党和他们的前辈——民族主义者——试图诋毁民间宗教,称其为“迷信”。中国精英阶层大多认为基督教是“真正”宗教的规范,这导致他们拒绝接受传统上将中国社会凝聚在一起的分散而融合的观点。据学者称,二十世纪有多达一百万座寺庙被毁,尤其是在中共执政的头三十年。
20 世纪 70 年代末,中共开国领袖毛泽东去世后,传统宗教生活恢复,但最多只能得到容忍,反对“封建迷信”的运动又持续了 20 年。然而,到本世纪初,国家开始改变对民间宗教的看法。重建寺庙的当地社区有时会得到当地政府的支持,或者至少让他们睁一只眼闭一只眼。国家认为民间宗教有一些地缘政治利益——例如,中共经常指出对航海神妈祖的崇拜是中国东南部社区与台湾岛之间的纽带,妈祖在台湾也颇受欢迎。
从某种程度上说,中国有多达 220,000 个民间宗教崇拜场所,而佛教和道教寺庙的数量仅为 43,500 个。其中一些民间宗教场所得到了政府的直接支持。北京借用联合国教科文组织的术语,将许多文化习俗指定为“非物质文化遗产”。指定非物质文化遗产通常需要支付少量补贴,例如对川菜大师、蒙古族呼麦或传统剪纸大师的补贴。但国家也支持民间宗教活动,只是将其列为非物质文化遗产。
其中一项活动是每年春天在北京西部的妙峰山举行的庙会。庙会标志着 19 世纪大部分时间和 20 世纪上半叶中国最大的朝圣活动之一的结束,当时成千上万的人每年徒步前往。到 20 世纪 50 年代,庙会被关闭,20 世纪 60 年代,毛泽东主义狂热分子拆除了寺庙。附近的一个村庄于 1986 年重建了寺庙,作为旅游项目。村领导随后联系了曾经经营所谓“朝圣协会”的北京人,组织游客参加一年一度的朝圣。许多团体还通过表演踩高跷、舞蹈和短剧等传统文化习俗来纪念妙峰山的神灵。第一次恢复朝圣活动于 1992 年举行。
然而,在过去十年中,国家对朝圣节的支持有所增加。许多朝圣协会现在被指定为非物质文化遗产,整个妙峰山朝圣活动也是如此。这意味着政府将投入资金来翻新
China Is Reversing Its Crackdown on Some Religions, but Not All
https://www.cfr.org/expert-brief/china-reversing-its-crackdown-some-religions-not-all
Expert Brief by Ian Johnson May 14, 2024 11:02 am (EST)
Well-documented crackdowns on religious freedom in China, especially against Muslims and Christians, only show part of Beijing’s religious policy. Another side involves state support for “indigenous religions” in an attempt to promote traditional social values amid declining belief in the communist ideology.
People burn incense at the Buddhist Guiyuan Temple in Wuhan, China. Hector Retamal/AFP/Getty Images
China regularly ranks among the worst-performing countries on freedom of religion. That makes sense, given the crackdown on Muslim Uyghurs and the the destruction of Christian churches. These are the regular features of reports on China by the U.S. State Department and the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom, as well as international human rights monitoring groups.
But there is a flip side to the Chinese government’s approach to organized religions: over the past few years, some have begun to enjoy government support. This applies to much of China’s biggest religion, Buddhism, and its only indigenous religion, Taoism. The government has also endorsed folk religious practices that it once deemed superstitious, subsidizing pilgrimages and temples.
Driving these seemingly contradictory impulses is the ruling communist party’s need for new sources of legitimacy. With economic growth slowing, the long-standing social contract of prosperity in exchange for political acquiescence is less tenable. That’s caused the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which still promotes atheism, to give overt support to traditional faiths.
The state has clearly identified some religions as preferable to others. Two faiths in particular are problematic: Islam, which has roughly seventeen million believers in China, and Christianity, with an estimated fifty to sixty million, based on different measures. The state essentially views them as foreign and therefore undesirable. This isn’t because of the length of time they have been in China. In fact, Christianity has had a permanent presence in the country since Jesuit missionaries arrived in Beijing in 1601, while Islam arrived in China along with Persian traders in the seventh century.
Instead, the CCP is worried about these faiths’ foreign affiliations. Muslims are part of Islam’s global umma (Arabic for “community”) of believers, and until recently, young, pious Chinese Muslims often studied in Muslim countries, such as Malaysia and Indonesia. In addition, one of the five pillars of Islam is the pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia. Christians, meanwhile, are thought to have strong overseas ties either to the Vatican, for Catholics, or to overseas Chinese communities in Southeast Asia and the West, for Protestants in particular.
By contrast, Buddhism, Taoism, and folk religions are seen as indigenous faiths with fewer overseas ties (the main exception being Tibetan Buddhism, whose spiritual head, the Dalai Lama, lives in exile in India). Chinese President Xi Jinping began alluding to the importance of local ties to Buddhism as early as 2014. During a speech at the UN Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) headquarters in Paris, he said that even though Buddhism originated in India, it has indigenized over the centuries and now is firmly rooted in Chinese culture. Xi also praised Christianity and Islam for their contributions to China but, tellingly, didn’t say they had indigenized.
This explains the party’s skepticism toward these faiths. The problems facing China’s Muslims are well known, especially the forced assimilation of Muslim Uyghurs in the Xinjiang region. Hundreds of thousands of Uyghurs have been sent to camps for “retraining,” with officials saying they are meant to learn employable skills. But watchdog groups argue that the camps serve as a reprogramming away from Islam. Muslims have been forced to eat pork, which Islam forbids, and give up some of the pillars of the faith. During a recent trip through Xinjiang, Economist correspondent David Rennie reported that some Muslims were not allowed to fast during the holy month of Ramadan, which is obligatory under Islam.
The party’s concerns about Christianity are different. While Islam is practiced by ethnic minorities and is mostly sequestered in China’s borderlands (perhaps helping to explain the draconian measures), Christianity is practiced among the Han Chinese majority, especially urban, white-collar professionals. In some ways, the CCP faces a greater challenge from Christianity because the religion is practiced among the very people the party needs to modernize the country.
To deal with this problem, the party has adopted a two-fold policy. Toward Catholicism—which seems to be hardly growing, with just ten million adherents—the party has sought control through diplomacy. In 2018, Beijing and the Vatican agreed to jointly appoint senior clergy in China, which Beijing believed would reduce the need for an underground church. For Protestantism, which is arguably China’s most dynamic faith, the party has sought to close down big churches that have civil society structures. For example, the Early Rain Covenant Church, which once had its own school, seminary, book shop, and charitable organizations, was shut down in 2019. It was one of many urban mega-churches that grew up in the 2000s and early 2010s as part of a flowering of civil society that has since been broken up.
Protestant lay leader Tu Shouzhe stands next to a cross severed by Chinese authorities at a church in Zhejiang Province. Associated Press
Other churches have also been cut down to size—often literally. Churches in eastern Zhejiang Province, for example, once were famous for their bright red crosses. In some towns, red crosses were ubiquitous. Over the past decade, however, Zhejiang’s churches have been decapitated so that they no longer have such a prominent presence in the region’s landscape, even if the congregations still meet. In general, the number of new churches has stagnated. New construction takes place, but usually only to replace churches demolished during urban renewal.
By contrast, the state’s treatment of the so-called indigenous faiths is strikingly different. By and large, their places of worship have not been torn down or given restrictions. Statistics and my on-the-ground observations indicate that Buddhism and Daoist religious sites and participation are increasing.
The dragon in the room, however, is folk religion, or minjian xinyang (民间信仰) in Chinese, which the government also endorses. Officially, this does not exist as a religion in China but instead is a catch-all designation for local and popular deities. For most of the twentieth century, China’s modernizers—the communists and their predecessors, the nationalists—tried to discredit folk religions by labeling them “superstitious.” Chinese elites largely held Christianity as the norm for a “real” religion, causing them to reject the diffuse and syncretic views that traditionally held Chinese society together. According to scholars, up to one million temples were destroyed in the twentieth century, especially during the first thirty years of CCP rule.
After the death of founding CCP leader Mao Zedong in the late 1970s, traditional religious life returned but was tolerated at best, with campaigns against “feudal superstition” continuing for another two decades. By the beginning of this century, however, the state had begun to change its view on folk religion. Local communities that rebuilt temples sometimes obtained support from local governments, or at least got them to turn a blind eye. The state sees some geopolitical benefit to folk religion—the CCP often points to worship of the seafaring deity Mazu, for example, as a link between southeastern Chinese communities and the island of Taiwan, where the deity is also popular.
By some measures, there are as many as 220,000 places of folk religious worship in China, dwarfing the 43,500 Buddhist and Daoist temples. Some of these folk religious sites get direct government support. Borrowing terminology from UNESCO, Beijing has designated many cultural practices as “intangible cultural heritage.” The designation often involves a small subsidy, such as to a master of Sichuan cuisine, Mongolian throat singing, or traditional papercutting. But the state also supports folk religious practices just by giving them intangible cultural heritage status.
One such practice is the temple fair held each spring on Miaofengshan, a mountain west of Beijing. The fair marks the end of what was one of China’s largest pilgrimages for much of the nineteenth century and first half of the twentieth, when thousands of people made the trek each year on foot. By the 1950s, the fair had been shut down, and in the 1960s, Maoist zealots tore down the temple. A nearby village rebuilt the temple in 1986 as a tourism project. Village leaders then contacted people in Beijing who used to run what are known as “pilgrimage associations,” to organize visitors for the annual trek. Many of these groups also honor Miaofengshan’s deity by performing traditional cultural practices such as walking on stilts, dances, and skits. The first revived pilgrimage was held in 1992.
Over the past decade, however, state support for the fair has increased. Many of the pilgrimage associations are now designated as intangible cultural heritage, as is the entire pilgrimage to Miaofengshan. That translates into government money to renovate the temple, police to help guide crowds, and firefighters to make sure the vast amounts of incense burned don’t spark a fire. It also means positive media coverage and, for the association, money to hire buses to the temple.
Religious policy toward traditional faiths isn’t uniformly supportive. State regulations on religion ban minors from entering places of worship, a rule that applies to temples as well as churches and mosques. The state’s heavy hand can also be seen by the enormous national flags that most temples now fly, often in their main courtyard. When I went to the Miaofengshan pilgrimage last year, I saw an enormous billboard with a hammer and sickle and the oath of allegiance that all new CCP members take when joining. It seemed jarring, and many of the visitors I chatted with felt it was out of place.
But in some ways, the Chinese state’s embrace of religion shouldn’t be too surprising. Beijing needs new sources of support, especially given China’s slowing economy. In addition, the disasters of communist rule in the twentieth century mean that for at least fifty years, few people have bought into the state’s main ideology, communism. Under Xi, China has pushed a return to communist values, urging the country’s nearly one hundred million CCP members to “return to the original mission.” Some of the party’s stated values include widely accepted virtues such as honesty, integrity, patriotism, and harmony. But belief in communism is low, forcing the state to turn to traditions.
In doing so, the CCP draws on China’s imperial past when ruling. Imperial officials often decided which faiths were orthodox and heterodox, regularly banning sects that violated norms. Indeed, traditional China was a religious state, with the emperor serving as the mediator between heaven and earth, and his main palaces—including the Forbidden City—representing the empire’s spiritual focal point.
China’s modern-day rulers have drawn on this past but also on the lessons of modern authoritarian states. Similar to how Russian President Putin evolved from KGB operative in Soviet times to defender of the Russian Orthodox Church today, Xi is positioning himself as a champion of Chinese traditional values. It’s unlikely Xi will ever be seen praying in a Buddhist temple, as Putin worships in churches. But in its own way, the Chinese Communist Party is taking a page out of the same authoritarian playbook, where endorsing traditions as a source of legitimacy is seen as a way to compensate for problems at home.