Governing the Dead

Martyrs, Memorials, and Necrocitizenship in Modern China

Linh D. Vu

• Publisher: Cornell University Press
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN: 9781501756504
• eBook ISBN: 9781501756528
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Chinese History
• Index: History

In Governing the Dead, Linh D. Vu explains how the Chinese Nationalist regime consolidated control by honoring its millions of war dead, allowing China to emerge rapidly from the wreckage of the first half of the twentieth century to become a powerful state, supported by strong nationalistic sentiment and institutional infrastructure.

The fall of the empire, internecine conflicts, foreign invasion, and war-related disasters claimed twenty to thirty million Chinese lives. Vu draws on government records, newspapers, and petition letters from mourning families to analyze how the Nationalist regime's commemoration of the dead and compensation of the bereaved actually fortified its central authority. By enshrining the victims of violence as national ancestors, the Republic of China connected citizenship to the idea of the nation, promoting loyalty to the "imagined community." The regime constructed China's first public military cemetery and hundreds of martyrs' shrines, collectively mourned millions of fallen soldiers and civilians, and disbursed millions of yuan to tens of thousands of widows and orphans. The regime thus exerted control over the living by creating the state apparatus necessary to manage the dead.

Although the Communist forces prevailed in 1949, the Nationalists had already laid the foundation for the modern nation-state through their governance of dead citizens. The Nationalist policies of glorifying and compensating the loyal dead in an age of catastrophic destruction left an important legacy: violence came to be celebrated rather than lamented.

CHAPTER 1

Manufacturing Republican Martyrdom

On April 27, 1911, a few Guangzhou residents were roused before dawn. A group of local gentry, businessmen, overseas students, and secret society members armed with pistols and explosives smuggled from Hong Kong broke into the residence of the viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi, Zhang Mingqi (1875–1945). Some leaders of the insurgency had joined the Revolutionary Alliance, founded by Sun Yat-sen in Japan in 1905. The skirmish lasted for just a day because the plot had already been leaked to the authorities. The revolt leaders were expecting reinforcements led by Zhao Sheng (1881–1911) and Hu Hanmin (1879–1936) to join them, but they did not materialize. Many of the rebels were killed in battle. The Qing authorities captured and executed a number of others immediately afterward. The body count was recorded at eighty-six, but only seventy-two of the bodies could be identified. These seventy-two men became the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs. Two county magistrates planned to dump them on Stinking Hill, where the local authorities had been burying criminals. However, Pan Dazheng, a participant in the uprising himself, and Jiang Kongyin, a Hanlin Academy member, intervened and had them buried on a hill outside the city center. The site, with its simple graves, became the Yellow Flower Hill, where a memorial complex was constructed in the late 1910s.1 Instead of being condemned as criminals, these insurgents came to represent the ideal citizens of the Republic of China.

The Martyrdom of Chen Gengxin

The Yellow Flower Hill uprising was politically insignificant, yet the Revolutionary Alliance promoted sensational accounts of its participants in such local newspapers as the Shenzhou Daily, the Nanyue News, and the Minli News.2 In 1912, Zheng Lie (penname Tianxiaosheng), a Revolutionary Alliance member from Fujian, assembled newspaper reports and anecdotes related to the uprising and published Huanghuagang Fujian shi jie jishi (True tales of ten Yellow Flower Hill uprising martyrs from Fujian).3 The following extract was written by Zheng Lie who compiled information after the martyr Chen Gengxin’s death and meticulously described his upbringing, personality, and demise:

Chen Gengxin (1889–1911) was born in Houguan county in the southeastern province of Fujian. Having lost his parents at a young age and having no sibling, Chen was very much alone in the world. Despite enduring much hardship, he grew up to be a fine-looking and intelligent man who yearned to befriend other youths of his caliber. Chen was charming, with gleaming eyes, teeth as white as jade, and eyebrows as lovely as the kingfisher green in a painting. His body was as light as a leaf. He walked as nimbly as the wind. His countenance was radiant. His demeanor was elegant, just as beautiful as the jade tree in the wind.

Chen possessed great acumen that matched his ethereal beauty. He enjoyed reading. Born with innate intelligence, Chen only had to glance at books to remember them. Even at a young age, he had principles and motivations. He was also apt at talking and entertaining. Chen possessed much wisdom and was a master of stratagem. He enjoyed talking about great matters concerning the military and the nation. Moreover, Chen was brave and unafraid of danger. He had extraordinary talent in sword fighting and was adept at shooting guns while riding horses. None of his shots failed to hit the bull’s eye. Because of his unbridled spirit and his unblemished character, people who met Chen delighted in his martial bearing, even comparing him to King Huan of Wu [Sun Ce, 175–220 CE, a military general from the Eastern Han dynasty]. Aware of his self-worth, Chen welcomed such compliments.

At eleven sui [ten years old], Chen Gengxin entered a middle school, where he became close friends with Chen Yushen (1887–1911) and Chen Kejun (1888–1911), two young men with a similar background [who later became two of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs]. Growing up, they became the kind of friends who would ride and die together. They intently exerted self-control and never relaxed in discipline. Bright and agile, they were all outstanding persons of that generation in Fujian. Anyone who met these students could not help but marvel at them. Together, the three made quite a sight. One night, the trio, smearing their own blood and pointing at their hearts, cried and made an oath: “In my life, if you did not keep our promise, I would kill you. If I did not keep our promise, you could kill me. This ceremony is to establish this oath. Even when the oceans dry up and the mountains dissolve, this [oath] will not change.”

Growing up, Chen Gengxin read Ming and Qing histories. Each time he read the tales of Yangzhou and Jiangyin, where Manchu troops massacred Ming subjects in 1645, Chen’s tears overflowed. He became angered to the point of no longer wanting to live. Ethnonationalist thoughts [minzu sixiang] penetrated so deeply into his head that he did not forget about them even for just a day. At the same time, Chen read such new theories as Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s The Social Contract. He then became enlightened about ideals of equality and liberty, and about the wrongs of despotism and subjugating people. Subsequently he was determined to bring about change [gaige].

At sixteen, he was the best student in the whole school. Not wanting to waste his talents as a big fish in a small pond, he headed east to Japan searching for opportunities. He entered the Kyuka Gymnasium, where he learned horse riding and foot drill during the day and researched mathematics at night. He also learned both English and Japanese at the same time. Although he was running hither and thither all day long, he showed not a bit of weariness. A few months later, he was able to use Japanese as fluently as someone who had lived in Japan for a long time. Such achievement stemmed from his extraordinary intelligence, determination, and diligence. After finishing everything in the school curriculum, he could stay no longer. Deeply dissatisfied, he had no choice but returned to Fujian. He became an instructor at an elementary school in Chengnan, teaching mathematics and physical exercise. At the school, Chen was the most adept in these two areas. Although only eighteen years old, Chen knew deep inside that he had no future in Chengnan. Thus, he left his position and enrolled in the academy for making cannons at Changmen Fort. He again surpassed everyone.

Chen Gengxin was engaged as a teen to a young girl. When the bride came of age and started wearing hairpins like a grown woman, her family rushed the wedding. Chen took leave from the school and returned home to get married. Although it was an arranged marriage, the conjugal relationship was extremely harmonious. As a result, a son was born a year later. The son had his father’s disposition and Chen adored him.

At twenty-one, Chen took leave of his family and went to the capital to take the military examination, receiving the junior rank in the New Army system. He then returned to Fujian and again worked an instructor. However, realizing after a few months that he could not achieve the ambitions that he had been harboring all his life, Chen became disheartened and depressed. Friends and relatives who queried Chen were met with his deep sighs.

In the spring of 1911, Chen Gengxin met some friends from Guangxi and Guilin who were plotting against the government. Nothing happened for three months, but then one day Chen Yushen went to Hong Kong and saw the time was ripe for a great change to happen. Back in Fujian, Chen Yushen called Chen Gengxin over and told him about the plot. The conspirators bought a boat and made their way to Hong Kong. En route, Chen Gengxin sat among a group of close friends and poured his heart out:

I have had a great life for three years with a beautiful and virtuous wife. She can endure hardship with me. My family is poor, but she is content with living in a grass-thatched hut. She does not complain about coarse food. The two of us entertain ourselves by drinking cheap wine together. We are inseparable like body and shadow. I know such happiness does not equal that of ancient sages. My action will in fact bring misfortunes. If I had no heir, my wife would follow me in death. But I have a son still in swaddled clothes. I cannot seek death. My house is so poor that there is not even enough land to bore an awl. I care not about my own death, but my wife and son will become widow and orphan. To whom can I entrust them?

When he finished speaking, his face saddened. Tears fell to the floor in large drops. His collar and sleeves were drenched with tears. Everyone on the boat likewise became depressed at heart. Each person in the group looked at one another, swallowing his tears in silence. Chen Gengxin was speaking aloud what a lot of other people were thinking inside. After waiting a long time for everyone to ponder, Chen jumped up from his seat and changed his tone:

The gentleman when faced with duty views death as returning. Would you rather have this attitude of an ordinary woman than save our people under the heaven? Our generation today is too slight-hearted. When one generation falters, the next will continue like an endless stream. There has to be the dark night before the bright morning!

Hearing these words, everyone in the group immediately switched from crying to laughing. After their arrival at Hong Kong, the casual friends became intimate friends. They finally saw death as a natural happening and welcomed it. They were palpably excited, clapping their hands and preparing for battle.

On the morning of April 27, Chen Yushen led the people on the boat to Guangdong. About four o’clock in the afternoon, members of the Revolutionary Alliance charged at the Guangdong-Guangxi viceroy’s office with explosives. Chen Gengxin courageously spearheaded the attack. Bullets failed to hit him; they only whizzed past his cap. More than ten soldiers and militiamen arrived at the scene. The government troops saw the rebels and fled. A number of conspirators died in battle. Unfazed, Chen Gengxin and others entered the building compound. They searched everywhere but could not find Viceroy Zhang Mingqi. They ended up killing other residents who were hiding inside. Afterward, they went back outside and cheered. Their shouts resonated in the air.

The young Cheng Gengxin turned into an apparent terror to the government troops. Chen’s eyes were terrifyingly bloodshot because he had not slept or eaten for three days. As Chen’s senses were acute and his hands were swift, he killed a number of Qing troops. Their blood splashed all over his body, whereas Chen himself did not suffer serious injuries. Most of Chen’s friends were already scattered, captured, wounded, or killed. Chen, however, continued to fight by himself. The government troops did not dare approach him.

Seeing Chen dressed differently from others, with a short haircut and in light shoes, the government troops knew that he was the leader. They formed several circles around him. Chen ran out of both bullets and arrows. He was completely exhausted. He was about to be apprehended. Yet the sight of Chen dazzled government troops, who immediately became sympathetic of his cause. They called out to him: “Hey the young one, why do you cause trouble [chang luan] and seek your own demise?” Chen sternly replied,

I righteously revolt [qiyi] to wake my compatriots from their pipe dream. How could you call it “causing trouble”? I sacrifice my life for a righteous cause as the sages clearly instructed. You spent your lives like rats, not knowing the great cause. Now I am about to be captured. For a quick death, I will choose to die in public.

Drenched in the blood of slain Qing soldiers and surrounded by enemy troops, he turned his face to the sky and laughed as if no one were present. Chen then extended his neck, plunged his knife into it, and expired. The observers all shed tears.4

In Zheng Lie’s account, which was perpetuated by the Nationalist Party during the 1910s–1940s, the nobility of Chen Gengxin’s ideals emanates from his final act of resistance, turning both enemies and bystanders into allies. Chen defends his acts of terrorism against the Manchu rulers as awakening to the truth and standing up against injustice. Chen appears as a radiant paragon of virtue and courage. He resembles a male protagonist in the late imperial fiction genre of “the scholar and the beauty,” possessing unmatched grace and intelligence.5 He first seduces the government troops with his youthful charm and then wins their minds with his eloquence and virtue. He condemns the Qing government troops as vermin ignorant of the virtue of the ancient sages and incapable of understanding his act of sacrifice. He lectures the enemy soldiers and they, mesmerized by his charisma, duly take the lesson. The martyr’s imagined physical beauty, cultural refinement, and moral superiority over the undistinguished, barbarian, and ignorant government troops were part of the myth-making project of the defeated that portrayed enemies as savage and amoral.6 Such narratives of outstanding life and courageous death set the foundation of legitimacy for the new republic. However, the myth-making process was not straightforward.

As with German writers and academics who compiled students-turned-soldiers’ letters to create the self-sacrificing idealism of German youth, Chinese biographers collected stories of revolutionaries dying in battle or by execution to construct a new ideal of Chinese manhood.7 The violent ends of Chinese young men were no longer a matter of fate, random happenstance, acts of the unknown to be mourned, but were celebrated as the proper way to die. The new crop of heroes stood in stark contrast to the traditional paragon of martyrdom embodied by Qu Yuan, an aged poet and minister who quietly drow...

Table of contents

• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1. Manufacturing Republican Martyrdom
• 2. Defining the Necrocitizenry
• 3. Consoling the Bereaved
• 4. Gendering the Republic
• 5. Democratizing National Martyrdom
• Epilogue
• Appendix: Major Commemoration and Compensation Regulations
• List of Characters
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index