The Soul of C hina: A Durkheimian Perspective on Religion and the Mainland

Abstract

The Soul of China: A Durkheimian Perspective on Religion and the Mainland Keith Kerr and Bai Juntao “The old gods are growing old or are already dead, and others are not yet born.” ([1912] 1965: 475)—Emile Durkheim I write this from Pu Tong University (pseudonym), a sprawling school of 30,000 students in China's northwest, where I am living and working as a visiting professor of sociology. My “regular” job is an assistant professor at a private, liberal arts school in the northeast United States. This is my sixth trip to China, although my first to work and live here for so long. Undoubtedly, each trip has brought new personal and cultural discoveries. But a “war” is a first for me. From past experiences traveling here, I knew Americans held many misperceptions about China, especially regarding religion. Despite popular belief, religion is not banned in China (well, sort of…like everything here…it's complicated). What is certain is that unlike in the United States, religion is not often discussed. This is in part an outgrowth of Chinese culture that is indirect and “polite” and due in part to religion's history in China during the twentieth century when religion was violently suppressed. Hence, my shock and paranoia when my first day on campus I was asked by the administrator overseeing my stay a frank question I had never been asked in my five previous trips: “Are you a Christian?” The tone was not the friendly tone of inquisitiveness. It was the bureaucratic tone that warned I may need to select my next words carefully. Caught off guard by this unusual question, unsure myself whether I fell into this category or not, I was at a loss for words. I was born into a Christian family, raised in Texas, and so was certainly of a Christian culture, but did not identify with the changed theological and political face of Christianity. As I struggled to formulate a coherent statement that would capture this, the administrator filled the silence, “It doesn't matter, just don't try to convert the students. You can talk about religion, you just can't minister to them.” I did not know how to respond. Part of me was offended and resistant to being told what I could and could not talk to my students about—not that conversions had ever replaced my lectures. And if it had, I am not at all certain what I would convert the students to. But my first response was resistance to overt control over my freedom in the classroom. But mostly, I was confused. I was confused by the unusual directness from a Chinese person, and confused by the motivation behind the statement. Part of me wondered whether my observations had been incorrect. Perhaps the reports of religious persecutions that I had read about and the rumors that were told to me by my evangelical friends in Texas (friends, mind you, who had never been to China) were correct. I was not naïve. I knew that restrictions existed; I knew that for some in China, religion had brought trouble, but I had long concluded these were historical artifacts, and in contemporary China, overblown and bordering on Western propaganda and paranoia. In many ways, the visible pluralities of religion one sees on Chinese streets are greater than what would be experienced in most US cities. Mostly, though, I was confused because I knew from previous experience that many religions have a strong and visible presence here. Catholic churches are well represented, although they are barred from recognizing the Vatican's authority. Likewise, open and underground evangelical Christian churches are well known, although members run the risk of arrest from government officials for failure to register their religious organizations. In fact, recent numbers indicate that anywhere from 20 to 100 million Chinese identify themselves as Christian (US Department of State ). Judaism, although to a much lesser degree, also exists in the Mainland, although it is not officially recognized by the government. But Buddhism is by far the most visible of the traditional religions. Monks are a common sight on Chinese streets, especially near towns with large temples. And temples...