Duan Zhengyuan’s Moral Studies Society and the Political Imagination of a Religious Enterprise

2. 1. The Unity of Politics and Morals 政德合一

Duan Zhengyuan was the author of an astounding intellectual production amounting to thousands of pages. Interestingly, some of these texts include discussions about society, economics, and of course politics. In that later realm, Duan’s thought obviously contrasts with the main trends of the time, including the May Fourth Movement and the total westernization stance (quanpan xihua 全盤西化) of some of its proponents or the emphasis put by many on democracy. But more generally, it also contrasts with one of the main trends of (Western-inspired) modernity, that is, the separation or “autonomization” of different spheres of human activity. In brief, suffice it to underline first that Duan is much less interested in the institutional nature of the regime than in what he believes to be central to “the political,” that is, its intertwinement with morals. Thus, he firmly advocates the necessity of continuing to “unite the political and the moral” (zhengdeheyi 政德合一) in the new Republic. The formula echoes other formulas such as the “unity of the political and the religious” (zhengjiaoheyi 政教合一) or the “unity of the political and the sacrificial” (zhengjiheyi 政祭合一), a “constellation of notions” that may be helpful to rethink the way Duan but, beyond him, a broad political milieu of the time (Beiyang militarists, warlords and so on) related to the political. We will see later that such an understanding (zhengdeheyi) of the political has two main consequences: on the one hand, it reflects a system of political thought in which institutional forms of the political may adapt to changing historical conditions but should remain subsidiary to the leadership prerogatives of virtuous leaders (xianzhe 賢者, junzi 君子); On the other hand, this intertwinement of the moral and the political also needs to translate into jiaohua 敎化 enterprises. Whereas Confucianism-inspired jiaohua previously partook in the fabric of the imperial order through a number of official institutions, the end of the imperial system and the attacks against classical education created a vacuum. New instruments had to be devised to fill such a vacuum and this is precisely the reason why Duan Zhengyuan also involved himself in very concrete jiaohua project, including the creation of the Daode Xueshe 道德學社.

2. 2. Morals as the Condition of Legitimacy of the Political

In order to introduce some central aspects of Duan’s political thought, I will base myself on some of the ideas introduced in his book Zhengzhi datong 政治大同 (The Great Unity in the Political Realm) published in 1930 (Duan 2017, 25-94), knowing that many of the ideas discussed in that work were also tackled in numerous writings before. Duan was not only a religious leader but also a prolific writer who produced dozens of volumes, that are often highly repetitive. This immediately raises the question of the status of such a literature. Neither merely religious nor really philosophical, the “thought” conveyed in these texts mainly serves the purposes of edification and the rhetorical promotion of a political imaginary or, in Eske Møllgaard’s words, a Confucian political imagination⁷ at a time: (a) when “tradition” was under severe attack by part of the westernized intelligentsia; (b) but when the political imagination associated with Confucianism still constituted the basic mental framework and worldview of a large part of a political and military elite which was, therefore, predisposed to appropriate it.

Very classically, Duan Zhengyuan emphasizes both the centrality of morals in his thought and claims that the latter inherits an ancient orthodox tradition:

China has an orthodox moral thought that has been interrupted after Yao and Shun, Yu the Great, Tang, Wen and Wu, the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. My thought is inheriting this orthodox moral thought. (Duan 2017, 33)⁸

Whereas the appeal to antiquity and tutelary figures of Chinese civilization is a recurrent pattern of most Confucian discourses, the specific interpretation of the “line of transmission of the Dao” (i.e., claimed Confucian orthodoxy) is here interesting in that Duan emphasizes the fact that the Confucian tradition largely went astray after Confucius. This valorization of antiquity and lesser attention paid to the subsequent development of Confucianism largely reflects his Master Long’s view that “The Han dynasty Confucian style of textual criticism (kaoju 考據) as well as the Song dynasty neo-Confucianism (lixue 理學), were both limited to the study of texts. They had little to say about human nature and the way of heaven.”⁹

This being said, such a critical appropriation of the tradition has its limits since Duan nevertheless emphasizes the importance of the three bonds (sangang 三綱), that is, of the three types of fundamental relations (ruler/minister; father/son; husband/wife) that have been asserted and promoted by Confucians first during the Han dynasty and constantly later on throughout imperial history (increasingly associated with the “five constants” especially starting with the Song dynasty).

The three bonds are things that our contemporary fellows consider to be the most autocratic, obscurantist, and unequal teachings of rites that are (in fact) sacrificing people. But who knows the true meaning of these three bonds? They are not only non-autocratic, but point in reality to the ultimate freedom; they are not only non-obscurantist, but embody in reality the utmost (form) of civilization; they are not only not-unequal but represent in reality the utmost equality. In order to unfold, true humanism necessarily needs to start from their realization. (Duan 2017, 47)¹⁰

In an iconoclastic context towards Confucian culture, Duan here frontally opposes the modernist tide and slogans understanding Confucianism as autocratic, obscurantist, and unequal and strongly posits that these traditional bonds or mainstays (the ruler is the mainstay of his minister, the father of his son, the husband of his wife), far from being outdated, endure and remain as important as ever. Interestingly from a rhetorical viewpoint, Duan’s discourse does not criticize the catchwords of the modernizers (e.g., freedom, equality) but appropriates them to posit that the three bonds constitute their utmost expression (e.g., they are not only non-autocratic, but point in reality to the ultimate freedom. . .). In fact, the three bonds form the ritual and behavioral cornerstone of Duan’s favorite –ism (and a formal concession to a time that cherished –isms so much), that is to say, humanism (rendaozhuyi 人道主義) or the humane way, a form of panmoralism pervading his whole worldview and thought system. Apart from the three bonds, Duan Zhengyuan’s pan-moralism is also visible in the Great Unity of the Political Realm through the importance ascribed to the “eight virtues” (bade 八德).¹¹

In Duan Zhengyuan’s opinion, morals need to be constantly reasserted: modern ideologies cannot ignore them and the forms of the political (monarchy, republic, etc.) cannot live without them. Two short excerpts illustrate this point.

If you aspire to the World’s Great Unity, to freedom and equality, morals should provide a direction and this would even make things much easier: Rather than relying on law, the unity of the nation could be achieved thanks to morals; Rather than relying on politics, the rights of the people could be advocated thanks to morals; Rather than relying on economics, the well-being of the people could be sustained thanks to morals. (Duan 2017, 56)¹²

Here, Duan Zhengyuan alludes to Sun Yat-sen’s Three Principles of the People (sanminzhuyi 三民主義)¹³ even though it does not seem that his argument specifically addresses the work published in 1924 (where, for instance, the rejuvenation of ancient morals is also advocated). Rather, his discourse seems to be more generally orientated against projects carried out by those reformers whose ambition was to modernize the country by putting primarily emphasis on legal procedures, types of polity, and economics but neglecting morals, deemed to be the backbone of Chinese civilization. It is noteworthy that Duan’s position largely resembles that of late Qing modernizers distinguishing between a Chinese moral and spiritual “constitution” (zhongti 中體), to be preserved and Western “function” (xiyong 西用) to be appropriated even though the scope of what is meant by constitution (ti) or function (yong) is not necessarily the same.

If importance is ascribed to law and not to men . . . no society, whatever the country, can be ruled properly. The great war (WWI) that broke out in Europe or all the disorders that have struck us since the start of the Republican era have much to do with talk about law and with devilish men. Therefore, in terms of political action, whatever the state model [guoti 國體: republic, monarchy, etc.] or political system [zhengti 政體: autocratic, constitutional, etc.], there is no absolute superiority or inferiority. Only if those in office are moral men, wise and able, then it will afterwards be possible to adapt to circumstances of the time and to legislate accordingly. . . . (Duan 2017, 62)¹⁴

It is well-known that the First World War and its ravages had an immense impact in the ranks of many reformers, throughout the world, who had somewhat previously idealized Western modernity (and power) and struggled to import it into their own countries. To some extent, an age of delusions quickly followed an age of illusions and fueled forms of cultural nationalism and critiques of stereotypes of Western modernity. Duan’s discourse certainly belongs to this brand of critical discourses that also laments China’s unstable situation. This excerpt strikingly underscores Duan’s relative indifference to the type of polity implemented in China (“whatever the state model or political system, there is no absolute superiority or inferiority. . .”). He does not dream to return to an imperial order since the form of the political regime is for him secondary in importance. He can certainly live with a republic or a constitutional monarchy. The crux of the matter is not here: whatever the polity, the legitimacy of the political is anchored in its link with morals. And morals are not considered to be the emanation of society’s values at a given point of time (in Marxist terms, morals are certainly no superstructure for Duan): they are not relative and context-dependent, they have their own transcendent and ontological basis. In that sense, Duan understands the political as being, by nature, some sort of “theologico-political” or “politico-religious” order led, directly or indirectly, by those—the sages, the sage-kings—capable of actualizing the ultimate moral structure of the universe. Here, we are fully in the realm of what Møllgaard presents as Confucianism’s political imagination.

2.3. Rethinking the Conditions of Possibility of the World as One Community (Tianxia weigong 天下爲公) Utopia

Considering all that has been said up to this point, it is no wonder that Duan dedicates a part of his book to the selection of the “virtuous and capable.” These elements are discussed in a section of the book commenting on one of the usual shibboleths of the Confucian political imaginary,¹⁵ the world as one community, that appeared in ancient texts, including in the Liyun 禮運 (Evolution of Rites), a chapter of the classical Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites). Duan’s discussion is in fact directly based on a few characters (xuanxian 選賢, yuneng 與能, jiangxin 講信, xiumu 修睦) appearing in this classical text.¹⁶ But of course, his position and comments are not that of a philologist but that of a religious leader. The context in which he advocates “the world as a community” is the China he lived in, struck by all the catastrophes of warlord politics and division, a country in which trust of the people towards politicians was low and where, in his opinion, particular private interests prevailed.

Duan underlines a difference between the “virtuous” (xianzhe 賢者, that is, the Confucian gentlemen junzi 君子), involved in self-cultivation and self-transformation dynamics (of which filial piety is a blatant manifestation) and the merely “capable” (nengzhe 能者)—one would maybe speak today of highflyers or those with high potential—whose top abilities may be used in totally inappropriate ways. In order to avoid this and produce capable officials (nengchen 能臣) Duan emphasizes that the virtuous should control those who are simply “capable” (2017, 68).¹⁷ In his system, the virtuous should be selected by . . . their virtuous peers (who other than the virtuous is legitimate for the task of understanding and identifying virtue. . .?) and have the power of nominating the merely capable (2017, 68-69).¹⁸

These excerpts can also be read in relationship to another aspect of Duan’s thought, that is, his emphasis on the role of moral Masters that, he believes, has been neglected after Confucius and Mencius. Thus, Jin Xiaodong highlights that Duan broadened the classical understanding of the three bonds (sangang) and the Confucian five archetypes of human relationships (wulun) so that they become four bonds and six archetypes (sigangliulun 四綱六倫). In each case, the new dimension is the relation between the Master and his disciples or students (e.g., the Master becomes the mainstay of the student shiweishenggang 師爲生綱) (Jin 2014, 175-184, 205-207). I will not delve here into the way Duan thinks of this relationship in general but merely underscore that, as we will see later, he largely positioned himself as a master of powerful warlords and officials of his time (while emphasizing his financial independence in order not to be instrumentalized). Without being yet able to provide definite evidence on the point, it is at least possible to advance the hypothesis that he would easily see himself as a kingmaker of the new republic.

Ascribing power to the virtuous is for Duan all the more necessary because the roots of society’s problems are embedded in a crisis of confidence of the people toward corrupt politicians unable to align their discourses with practical action (2017, 69-70). Hence the necessity to be able to speak truthfully (jiangxin 講信), the risk being otherwise to generate non-harmonious relations (bumu 不睦) at all levels:

Nowadays, the difficulties between capitalists and the workforce are linked to the lack of harmony between the two; the fact that the people want to overthrow warlords is also linked to this lack of harmony.¹⁹

The means to eliminate this lack of harmony crystallizes on one word: restoration/cultivation (xiu)²⁰. . . . Therefore, ancient sages, pondering on the word harmony and the way to achieve it, used another word, the word restoration/cultivation (xiu) that includes the idea of integrating morals and politics. What is a moral politics? It means implementing a politics of filial piety and brotherly respect. . . . If the virtuous are in power, it will be like unifying the sovereign and ministers with masters and Confucian scholars. (2017, 70)²¹

These lines do not require much comment since we fall back on the integration of morals and politics already introduced before. Let us simply complement this by saying that in his comment, Duan also insists that those in charge are capable of serving as moral exemplars (yishenzuoze 一身作則).

Selecting the virtuous, appointing the capable, speaking truthfully, and restoring harmony: No matter how the political regime is transformed and society reformed, if we forget these eight characters, no one will succeed.²² (2017, 71)

This concluding sentence encapsulates the core of Duan’s political thought by differentiating between what he understands as constant truths (“the political” needs to be anchored in “the moral” under the leadership of sages) that should prevail and changing historical circumstances that cannot question or challenge these truths. Writing in the 1930s, that is to say, during a period when the future was increasingly gaining importance in order to retrospectively think the present—suffice it to mention, on the one hand, the influence of the modernization/westernization paradigm, the belief in the progress of history or the influence of all sorts of teleologies including the Marxist one, and, on the other hand, all the attacks against things old

—Duan largely remained a man driven by a “regimen of historicity” (i.e., a way of articulating the past, the present, and the future) where the past kept relevance to think the present and to envision the future.²³ It is however noteworthy that this relevant past was probably much less for him history in itself than the enduring validity of a more general worldview (and cosmology) that borrowed its orientations from the ancient Confucian symbolic matrix. This might explain his degree of acceptance of social and political changes (the aforementioned excerpts show that institutional changes did not matter so much for him) as long as they could remain compatible with his value-system.

Far from mere intellectual speculations, Duan attempted to contribute to the realization of his ideals through very concrete actions and projects, a point to which we now turn.

3. 1. Involvement in Circles of Power

I previously wrote about Yiguandao’s patriarch Zhang Tianran, a prominent religious leader in the 1930s and 1940s (Billioud 2017, 209-240). Zhang had an incredible impact and turned the Yiguandao into a mass organization. However, it is difficult to find solid evidence or even traces of his relationship to important social and political figures of the time. This might be linked to the fact that Yiguandao is a group for which politics certainly matters but that does not aspire to reshape the social and political order. Its horizon is the longer time span of its millenarian eschatology. The situation is completely different for Duan Zhengyuan whose action is much more linked to the historical context in which he lived and to his ambition to contribute to the perpetuation of a moral and political order at a time of historical uncertainties.

Involvement in circles of power translated into numerous interactions with powerful people of the time, some of whom took him as their Master or, at least, consulted him about political matters. From this perspective, it is possible to understand why some contemporary revivalists call him “the Confucius of Modern China” (xiandai Zhongguo Kongfuzi 現代中國孔夫子). Not unlike Confucius travelling across the kingdoms of ancient China, he frequently travelled across the polities or fiefdoms of warlord China in order to give his advice about how the country should be managed and peace restored.

Duan Zhengyuan had for instance some exchanges in 1924 with warlord Wu Peifu 吳佩孚 (1874—1939), a prominent leader of the so-called Zhili clique, about the way to pacify and unite China. Invited by Wu in Luoyang, he tried, without success, to convince him to appropriate his ideal of the unification of morals and politics and give up the recourse to mere military might (Jin 2014, 128). In 1930, he also tried to convince Chiang Kai-shek to rule the country “by the means of moral politics” (yidezheng zhiguo 以德政治國) (Baoju 2015, 15). However, one of the most interesting cases of his relationships with warlords is perhaps his relationship with He Jian 何鍵 (1887—1956).

He Jian was born in 1887 in Hunan province in a modest family that nevertheless valued education and had produced some imperial examination degree holders in previous generations. He received a combination of modern and traditional schooling, including at Changcha’s Yuelu academy (McCord 2014, 113) and finally embraced a military career in the context of the 1911 Revolution. He participated to the KMT’s Northern Expedition and gained a reputation thanks to his military victories and, later on, because of his anti-Communism. He Jian was able to cleverly navigate the troubled waters of KMT factional politics, earn the trust of Chiang Kai-shek, and consolidate his position as overlord of Hunan province until his demise in 1937.²⁴ His embrace of traditional culture preceded his encounter with Duan Zhengyuan. Thus, in 1928 He Jian was already involved in the promotion of a movement to “honour Confucius and read the classics” (zun Kong dujing 尊孔讀經). At the beginning of the 1930s (1931?), He Jian invited Duan Zhengyuan to visit him in Hunan in order to advise him how to handle problems of “communist banditry” and subsequently took him has his master. He would also implement some policies such as a local “New Life Movement” on the basis of Duan’s recommendations (Yang 2005, 479; Fan Chunwu 2017, 147).²⁵ He Jian’s diary regularly mentions Duan Zhengyuan. The following excerpt was part of what he wrote on May 11, 1931 after discussions with emissaries sent by Duan Zhengyuan:

May 11, 1931, Clear weather.

6:30 a.m.: Practice of Taijiquan, Baguaquan.

7:40 a.m.: Letter written to Master Duan Zhengyuan.

8:20 a.m.: Master Duan sent Mr. Chen Yaochu, Wang Tunan, and Jiang Zhongru to visit me. The recommendation in terms of priorities for the resolution of the current political situation is to reform politics. The method is the following: (1) promoting the true and original spirit of the Chinese nation, putting into practice moral consciousness, [natural and true morals]²⁶ in order to rectify the humane heart/mind of the people and strengthen the original vitality of the country. (2) Selecting the virtuous and the capable for the sake of a true [implementation] of the ideal of the world as a community (tianxia weigong 天下爲公) (3) if the previous recommendations are not taken into account and implemented, then, as a last resort, it will be necessary to consider other good policies to protect ourselves and quietly await an opportunity to be saved.

Besides, there are several means to eliminate noxious red bandits: (1) Face and explain the current situation of banditry so that the Master may [find a way to] exert a subtle influence on it [on us?]²⁷; (2) summon one’s moral heart-mind, display spirit in order to align oneself totally with the Way of the Master so that officers and soldiers of each department also benefit from the warmth of the way; thus, heresies will be swept away and we will return to the right path. Hunan’s general policy about how to cope with the current political situation should be: (1) implement the Middle Way; it is explicitly for the people but in fact it is (also) for us; (2) use the force of the central government in order to cope with the armies of Guangdong and Guangxi. This is what is considered appropriate. More than anything else, it is necessary to try our best to deal with the opposite side and only as a last resort use full military force to oppose them. (3) As regards He Jingzhi (He Yingqin), it is necessary to get in touch with him in the spirit of the Way, mentioning the responsibility to implement the Great Unity (Datong). Globally, it seems to me that what was discussed is the (adequate) treatment to cure the problems of the current period and I take good note of this. I have already sent a telegram to invite the Master (Duan Zhengyuan) to come to Hunan to deliver his advice. (He Jian 1993, 48)

This excerpt, though sometimes arcane (we sometimes lack background information), nevertheless provides a fascinating insight into the influence of Duan Zhengyuan and his Confucianism on prominent leaders of the Republican era, including He Jian but also He Yingqin who was at that time (since 1930) minister for military affairs of the nationalist government. From the perspective of political thought, the ideas summed up in this journal totally reflect Duan’s writings discussed above: the Great Learning neisheng-waiwang 內聖外王 continuum is emphasized and self-cultivation is reaffirmed as the backbone of political reform (“putting into practice moral consciousness”; “in order to rectify the humane heart/mind of the people and strengthen the original vitality [yuanqi 元氣] of the country,” etc.); practical measures encompass the selection of the virtuous and the capable, the importance of trust and cultivation of harmony; The political imagination of the Great Unity is emphasized and so is the way of the master (shidao 師道), reflecting the superiority of the words of sages over political elites.

Apart from this excerpt, the diary is also interesting in that it shows how a high-ranking official such as He Jian related to Duan Zhengyuan. Thus, he frequently mentions the text of the master that he is reading and on which he is taking notes. He also regularly points elsewhere in the journal to the quiet-sitting sessions (jingzuo 靜坐) carried out ahead of these readings. If we include the martial arts (Taijiquan and Baguaquan) practices taking place in the morning, we have in fact a rough picture of the self-cultivation regimen of a prominent disciple of Duan.

Another famous disciple of Duan Zhengyuan, He Yingqin 何應欽 (1890—1987), is mentioned here in He Jian’s diary. To a large extent, his relationship to Duan Zhengyuan seems to echo He Jian’s. Thus, Fan Chunwu explains that after he had become Duan’s disciple, He Yingqin was given pieces of advice by his Master about the way to get rid of the communist soviet base on the Fujian-Jiangxi border. But we also have elements that potentially further broaden the scope of Duan’s involvement in “big history”: in a context where, following the Mudken incident, He Yingqin was assuming responsibility for the military situation in Beijing, he seems to have followed Duan’s recommendations to look for peace with the Japanese (“Asian countries should no longer fight one another”). Thus, the “armistice” signed with the Japanese (Tanggu truce?) and the conclusion of the “He-Umezu” agreement (何梅協定) signed in Tianjin between He and his Japanese counterparts would have also been advocated by Duan (Fan Chunwu 2017, 146-147).²⁸

Duan’s political thought was not only an intellectual reaction to a wave of modernization, westernization, and emancipation epitomized by the May Fourth or the New Culture Movements (broadly understood). His discourse was also a timely source of updated symbols—i.e., classical political views and discursive symbols reformulated to take into account the new Republican context—re-invigorating the political horizon and imagination of conservatives whose worldviews had largely remained fashioned by Confucianism and its value system. In fact, the “market” for such a reprocessed classical/Confucian political imagination was broad in Republican China (much broader than what the “total iconoclasm” narrative sometimes leads us to feel) and, delving into the itineraries of warlords and strongmen of the political stage of the time (He Jian and He Yingqin here but also Yan Xishan, Chen Jitang, Chiang Kai-shek, Dai Jitao, Wang Jingwei, etc.), it would probably not be too difficult to show that many—most of them outside of Communist ranks?—were highly receptive to this kind of discourse. A charismatic figure such as Duan had the ability to instill new life into ancient political utopias and turn them into a quasi-religious creeds appropriated and integrated by disciples such as He Jian within their self-cultivation regimen and, afterwards, their political action.

Duan’s influence was not limited to circles of power. As mentioned before, his global understanding of the way to save the nation also fueled his jiaohua (education/transformation) enterprises at the grassroots level.

3. 2. Duan’s Jiaohua Enterprises

The Daode Xueshe was not Duan Zhengyuan’s first jiaohua entity. A research society focusing on morals, rites, and human relationships (Lunli daode yanjiuhui 倫禮道德研究會) had already been opened in Chengdu in 1912. In a way which is not without formally echoing the Christian model, members gathered each Saturday in order to listen to Duan Zhengyuan’s lectures on morals.²⁹ Before that, they would eat a vegetarian meal and participate in a self-examination session during which they had to recall and ponder over their deeds of the past week, repent and attend a ritual ceremony in front of Confucius’s tablet. . . . Things seemed to develop well but in 1914 Duan decided to leave and go to Beijing anticipating that, due to the proximity of all kinds of powerful elites, his enterprise could take a completely different dimension (Jin 2014, 135-136):

I have heard that today’s government intends to reform things that do not work, that the people expect a Republic of the five nations. . . . Not doing this [moving to Beijing] is impossible; I simply have to accomplish my task (Jin 2014, 137).

Commenting on these words of Duan Zhengyuan, Jin Xiaodong (2014, 137) emphasizes that the main incentive to go to Beijing was to implement his ideal of unity of the political and the moral. Beijing would give him the social and political capital lacking in Sichuan and necessary for any further expansion while providing a convenient basis for his jiaohua activities.

The Daode Xueshe was officially established in 1916 in Beijing with Duan Zhengyuan as its Master. Its Director and patron was Wang Shizhen 王士珍 (Wang Pinqing 王聘卿 1861—1930) who had been Minister of War and Premier of China from 1917 to 1918 (and at some point involved, along with Kang Youwei, in the 1917 attempt by Zhang Xun 張勳 to restore Pu Yi as Emperor). A number of key members of the Daode Xueshe were politicians and military cadres, many of whom had studied in Japan. Among them were Chen Jingnan (Chen Raochu 陳堯初, Chen Quansan 陳全三 1881—?), a graduate from Waseda University who became a member of congress, and Lei Baokang 雷保康 (雷壽榮), a graduate from the Imperial Japanese Army Academy and Lieutenant-General.³⁰ Fan Chunwu emphasizes that Duan Zhengyuan originally managed to attract a number of Beiyang officials, starting with Wang Shizhen, thanks to his (quasi-magical) healing abilities, which nuances the merely rational image of Confucianism often available in existing research about the society (Fan 2017, 136, 143).³¹ Incidentally, one could underscore that the same ability to heal also contributed to popularize the figure of Wang Fengyi 王鳳儀 (1864—1937), the leader of one of the other main redemptive societies with a Confucian orientation of the Republican era, the Universal Morality Society. At a time when “science” was becoming a totem, it is as if quasi-magical healing had also contributed to drive the Confucian modern.

The objectives of the Daode Xueshe were the promotion of the way of Confucius in order to advocate the Great Unity and, ultimately, universal peace. In other words, they perfectly reflected the political imagination developed in Duan’s writings throughout the years and that was briefly introduced above. Given the number of high-ranking officials, including military officials, that joined its ranks, the society could have easily benefitted from public funds, but Duan Zhengyuan always refused to proceed in that way and preferred to rely on membership contributions. This probably helped him to keep some independence vis-à-vis the authorities. However, this decision did not stem from any modern concern about the need to circumscribe and differentiate spheres of activities. As was mentioned before, Duan’s worldview totally endorsed and even advocated the intertwinement of the moral and the political. Simply stated, morals—and its embodiment, the figure of the sage—should prevail within such an intertwinement. Financial independence was probably the price to pay to protect the sage’s role in relation to the political.

From the end of the 1910s to the 1930s, the Moral Studies Society opened branches across the country and, among other places, in Nanjing (1917), Hankou (1918), Zhangjiagkou, Hangzhou (1925), Shanghai and Suzhou (1925), Jiaxing, Ningbo, Xuzhou (1925), Fengtian (1930), Tianjin (1935), Taiyuan (1934), Xi’an (1937) and so on. Altogether, at least 83 branches (in the countryside some were named Yueshushi 閱書室) would have been opened with Beijing as the headquarters of the group (Jin 2014, 137-151, 249-251).

Recorded accounts of people who participated, directly or through relatives in the activities of the society provide insights about how things were organized. Thus, a retired teacher recalls memories of 1946 when he moved to Xi’an with his father, a merchant deeply involved in the society’s activities. He mentions a number of branches that were opened in the area along with schools (zhonghe xiaoxue 中和小學) where traditional morals and education/transformation (jiaohua) could be promoted. It is noteworthy that some of the redemptive societies with a Confucian orientation (here, we have the case of the Morals Studies Societies, but this would also apply to the Universal Morality Society) chose to open schools as a means to expand their activities. Such a pattern is long-lasting since it can still be observed today in the framework of the Confucian revival in China.

The retired teacher also mentioned that among the regular activities the group organized conferences about the Dao (jiang Dao 講道) on Sundays that were opened to a large outer public as well as a number of ritual sessions: thus, on the first, eleventh, and twenty-first days of the lunar calendar, the societies’ members (xueyuan 學員) all gathered in the main hall of the society’s premises and performed kowtow rituals (sanguijiukou 三跪九叩) in front of paintings of Confucius, Mencius, and Laozi as well as pictures of Duan Zhengyuan. Meals shared on these days were also vegetarian, as they were in Sichuan a few decades before. Interestingly, a number of the activities of this Xi’an Daode Xueshe group, especially in the educational realm, could continue until 1958 (Jin 2014, 145-147).

The recollections of another elder of the group from the village of Shangyanghua 上陽化 located in the West of Xi’an complements the first account. The local branch of the society was opened in 1937 and activities took place first in a traditional school (sishu) operated by one of the members before being delocalized to a local temple. Gathering days, lectures and ritual modalities, refusal to count on any other financial resource than that of the followers, all those patterns corroborate what was already mentioned above. This, group also had its special characteristics: it engaged in operations to suppress opium consumption (lectures and supply of some sort of medicine—the account is not very precise); and also operated a school (zhonghe xiaoxue 中和小學). All these activities were not for profit, carried out by volunteers of the group (Jin 2014, 147-150).

Apart from the specific activities of its branches, the Moral Studies Society also operated a publishing house located in Beijing (Dacheng Yinshushe 大成印書社) with local branches. Fan Chunwu’s research emphasizes the importance of this activity and the way the society managed to “combine modern, capitalist publishing technologies and marketing systems with the traditional market of morality books” (Fan 2017, 153). In brief, the group was extremely efficient in the massive dissemination of its literature, which was another way of serving its jiaohua ambitions.