Governing the Dead: Martyrs, Memorials, and Necrocitizenship in Modern China 9781501756511

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GOVERNING THE DEAD

GOVERNING THE DEAD MA RTY R S , M E M O R I A L S , A N D NEC R O CI TI Z E NS H I P I N M O D E R N C H I N A

Linh D. Vu

CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS Ithaca and London

Publication of this book was made possible by generous grants from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange and from the Association for Asian Studies First Book Subvention Program. Copyright © 2021 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at cornellpress.cornell.edu. First published 2021 by Cornell University Press Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Vu, Linh D., 1985– author. Title: Governing the dead : martyrs, memorials, and necrocitizenship in modern China / Linh D. Vu. Description: Ithaca [New York] : Cornell University Press, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020043462 (print) | LCCN 2020043463 (ebook) | ISBN 9781501756504 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501756511 (pdf ) | ISBN 9781501756528 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Memorialization—Political aspects— China—History—20th century. | Nationalism and collective memory—China—History—20th century. | War memorials—Political aspects—China—History— 20th century. | War cemeteries—Political aspects— China—History—20th century. Classification: LCC DS775.7 .V8 2021 (print) | LCC DS775.7 (ebook) | DDC 951.04—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020043462 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020043463 Cover photo: Wang Jingwei, head of the Reorganized National Government in Nanjing, presenting flowers to Yellow Flower Hill martyrs, March 29, 1942. Academia Historica 118-030300-0007-021.

Contents

Acknowledgments

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Introduction

1

1. Manufacturing Republican Martyrdom

20

2. Defining the Necrocitizenry

50

3. Consoling the Bereaved

83

4. Gendering the Republic

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5. Democratizing National Martyrdom

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Epilogue

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Appendix: Major Commemoration and Compensation Regulations 201 List of Characters Notes

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Bibliography Index

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Ack nowledgments

I never thought I would write a book, let alone a book about modern China. And yet, looking back, I realize that I have trained for two decades to complete this task. Governing the Dead began in Connecticut. Tek-wah King, my first Chinese language teacher, had more faith in me than I had in myself at times. Frederick Paxton took me to the necropolis underneath the Vatican during the study-abroad program in Rome, and the rest, as they say, is history. I am grateful to Alexis Dudden, Bill Frasure, Yibing Huang, Don Peppard, and John Tian, who provided encouragement inside and outside the classroom. While studying in Hawaii, David McCraw taught me classical Chinese. Liam Kelly trained me how to read primary sources. Shana Brown and Giovanni Vitiello expanded my understanding of Chinese history and culture. I am thankful for the foundation that they set as I embarked on my research. My extended cohort at the University of California at Berkeley—Matthew Berry, David Bratt, Jesse Chapman, Caleb Ford, Kevin Li, Peiting Li, James Lin, William Ma, Daryl Maude, Emily Ng, Joseph Passman, Jon Pitt, Larissa Pitts, Jon Soriano, Jonathan Tang, Lucia Tang, Yun-ling Wang, Jesse Watson, Brandon Kirk Williams, Trenton Wilson, Eloise Wright, Kankan Xie, Shoufu Yin, Patricia Yu, and Yueni Zhong—read many draft chapters and offered insightful comments. Their patience in wrangling with my awkward prose amazed me. Their intellectual prowess continues to inspire me. Many senpai, Nicole Barnes, Emily Baum, Mary Brazelton, Zach Fredman, Arunabh Ghosh, Judd Kinzley, Eric Schluessel, Philip Thai, and Margaret Tillman have shared their wisdom over meals over many years. I am grateful for their camaraderie, brilliance, and generosity. Andrew Barshay, Alex Cook, Thomas Laqueur, Kevin O’Brien, and Peter Zinoman, as mentors, held my work to high standards and guided me through the journey. This book carries their intellectual imprints. Wen-hsin Yeh, who tolerated my many mischiefs, shepherded me through the research

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and writing, and continued to support me after I left Berkeley. She patiently read many drafts of this book. I truly hope she will not be disappointed with the final version. I am thankful for the support from the staff at Academia Historica, Academia Sinica, the Beijing Municipal Archives, the Chinese University of Hong Kong Library, the Chongqing Municipal Archives, the Guangdong Provincial Archives, the Guangzhou Municipal Archives, the Jiangsu Provincial Archives, the Nanjing Municipal Archives, the National Archives (United Kingdom), the National Central Library (Taiwan), the Second Historical Archives of China, the Shanghai Municipal Archives, and the Shanghai Municipal Library. The reading room staff of Academia Historica in the Xindian office, which is far from town, always made sure to include me when they ordered lunch. Jane Liau and everyone at the Center for Chinese Studies at the National Central Library offered me not only encouragement but also plenty of Taiwanese snacks when I came to the office. Their kindness made long-term archival research away from home less excruciating. At the University of California at Berkeley, Jianye He at the C. V. Starr East Asia Library ordered printed primary sources for my research. My work over the years has been funded by a Eugene Cota-Robles Fellowship, Liu Family Fellowship in Chinese Studies, Republic of China East Asian Fellowship, Helen Gan-Richard Aston Fellowship for Chinese Economic and Social History, and University of California at Berkeley Normative Time Fellowship. I also received two Summer Research Grants, two Haas Junior Scholar Fellowships, seven Center of Chinese Studies Conference Travel Grants, two History Department Conference Travel Grants, and a Summer Mentorship grant. In addition, with funding from the National Central Library’s Center for Chinese Studies in Taiwan, the US Fulbright Student Research Program, the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation, the Association for Asian Studies China and Inner Asia Council, and the Center for Asian Research at Arizona State University, I have been able to collect archival materials and share results at conferences. Without this generous financial support, I would not have been able to devote myself to completing this book. My online book workshop with Hongwei Bao, Howard Chiang, and Liang Luo, none of whom I have never met in person, was just the boost I needed to keep ploughing through the editing. I am also grateful for the in-person book workshop sponsored by the Li Ka-Shing Foundation Program in Modern Chinese History at the University of California at Berkeley. Paulina Hartono, Brooks Jessup, Abhishek Kaicker, Micah Muscolino, Rebecca Nedostup, Nick Tackett, Jeff Weng, and Wen-hsin Yeh generously offered their time and expertise. I am glad they did not let me get away with

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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unsupported statements. Joe Esherick, in particular, saved this book from various inaccuracies. The remaining errors are all mine. I would like to thank my colleagues at Arizona State University: Richard Amesbury, Alex Aviña, Hannah Baker, Andrew Barnes, Jonathan Barth, Volker Benkert, Nila Bhattacharjya, Adrian Brettle, Huaiyu Chen, Sookja Cho, Anna Cichopek-Gajraj, Anne Feldhaus, Tracy Fessenden, Monica Green, Chouki El Hamel, Tobias Harper, Alexander Henn, Anna Holian, Chris Jones, Timothy Langille, Julian Lim, Laurie Manchester, Yan Mann, Catherine O’Donnell, Katherine Osburn, Yasmin Saikia, Calvin Schermerhorn, Juliane Schober, and Mark Tebeau. They welcomed me with open arms, invited me out to lunch, read my book, and gave me good advice on how to survive the first academic job. The former director of the School of Historical, Philosophical and Religious Studies, Matt Delmont, was especially accommodating and encouraging. Steve MacKinnon and Jim Rush often check in on me, which I very much appreciate. The late Aaron Moore not only read many parts of my work but also mentored me to be a better teacher and faculty member. The staff at the School of Historical, Philosophical and Religious Studies—Yvonne Delgado, Erica May, Carrie Montana, Marissa Timmerman, and Becky Tsang—have made my work easier and more enjoyable. The students in my modern Chinese history classes have held me to the highest standards of clear communication. I have presented various parts of this book at the American Society for Legal History, the Association for Asian Studies, the Historical Society for Twentieth Century China, the National Central Library’s Center for Chinese Studies (Taipei), the Law and Society Association, the Summer Institute on Conducting Archival Research, the Summer Seminars in Asian Arts, Religion and History (Shanghai), the UCSIA Summer School (Antwerp), the Visions of Humanity Conference (Berlin), the Winter Institute (Taipei), and many other conferences. Besides the presentations, countless conversations and delicious meals, from Trondheim to Tel Aviv, have sustained me over the last decade of writing. Without the international academic community, I would not have been able to produce this book. Ed McCord and an anonymous scholar read the book carefully and offered a wide range of suggestions. Their critiques have made the book significantly stronger. The editors, staff, and Faculty Board at Cornell University Press have worked on my book during a seemingly unending pandemic. In particular, Emily Andrew, Alexis Siemon, Allegra Martschenko, and Mary Kate Murphy have guided me through the process with expertise and patience. Allison Van Deventer and Monica Achen improved much of the prose of my book with their keen copyediting.

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Some parts of chapters 2 and 4 have been published as “Martyred Patriarchs, Institutionalized Virtues, and the Gendered Republic of TwentiethCentury China,” Modern China (OnlineFirst): 1–30. Copyright © 2019 (SAGE), doi: 10.1177/0097700419887466. I would like to thank SAGE Publications and the journal for their permission to reproduce these parts. Although my parents would have preferred me to pursue a different career and lifestyle, they have never been “tiger parents.” I appreciate that they allowed me to explore my own worlds. Smokey and Tamago have duly reminded me to take naps as frequently as I need to sustain the endless writing and rewriting. And finally, thank you, Ben, for having been with me since the beginning of my adult life.

GOVERNING THE DEAD

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Republic of China, 1947. Prepared by Mike Bechthold.

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Introduction

Tens of millions of Chinese, military and civilian, lost their lives during internecine conflicts, foreign invasion, and war-related disasters in the first half of the twentieth century.1 The Nationalist government (1925–1949), not unlike the Union government during the American Civil War (1861–1865) and the European states during World War I (1914–1918), rose to care for the war dead. By selecting whom among millions of fatalities to enshrine as national ancestors, the Republic of China connected the living to the idea of the nation, emotionally and ritualistically facilitating loyalty to the imagined community.2 At the same time, the Nationalist government created the state apparatus necessary to manage the necroconstituency and, by extension, consolidate control over the living. It was only the state apparatus, with its well-disciplined and well-equipped manpower, that could orchestrate the relief of the trauma of mass deaths. Beleaguered by enemies on multiple fronts, hyperinflation, and internal clashes, the Nationalist state nonetheless managed to govern its dead. The regime constructed China’s first public military cemetery and hundreds of local martyrs’ shrines, collected biographical data on at least half a million war dead, collectively mourned millions of fallen soldiers and civilians, and disbursed millions of yuan to tens of thousands of widows and orphans.3 The bureaucracy, created to govern the dead and the bereaved,

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INTRODUCTION

became the institutional foundation that fortified China’s centralized authority, even after the end of Nationalist rule. This book took shape during many sweltering afternoons spent poring over brown leaves of documents that contained biographical information about fallen soldiers and civilians at the Academia Historica (Guoshiguan) in Taiwan in 2014. The barely legible pages that have slowly succumbed to the passage of time reveal the afterlives of the Chinese war dead in the first half of the twentieth century. Let the three men who died on the eve of China’s transition from empire to nation-state shed some light on how and why a nation cares about its dead.

The Afterlives of Three Rebels On the morning of October 10, 1911, two severed human heads were captured on camera chillingly lying on broken pieces of brick. The heads, with cropped hair, belonged to Liu Fuji (1883–1911) and Peng Chufan (1884–1911), two soldiers of the New Army, whom the Qing imperial government (1644–1912) had equipped and trained according to Western standards. They were executed for treason after an accidental explosion in the city of Hankou had tipped off the authorities about their plan to revolt. An accomplice, Yang Hongsheng (1886–1911), was caught transporting explosives for the mutineers. In a different photograph, Yang is shown just moments before his execution sitting on the ground with his face and shaved head smeared with blood, his arms bound behind the back, and his stockinged feet shackled with irons.4 By the evening of October 10, the mutiny by the New Army soldiers in Wuchang, Hubei Province, broke out, setting off a negotiation that led to the overthrow of the empire and the founding of the Republic of China. The three decapitated rebels were subsequently hailed as martyrs, and their afterlives became part of the nation-building process. The process first took place at the provincial level. The Hubei provincial government looked for a suitable place to build a shrine to ensure that the three martyrs’ great contributions would “last as long as the rivers and mountains.”5 Cai Jimin (1886–1919), one of the uprising leaders, and Lan Tianwei (1878–1921), a former Qing dynasty military governor, planned to use funds from the sale of public bonds in northern provinces to build a shrine and construct bronze statues for the Wuchang uprising martyrs.6 A public sacrifice was held on September 29, 1912, drawing over three hundred Wuchang townsfolks and uprising participants. Peng Chufan’s remains,

INTRODUCTION

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which had been preserved in a tightly sealed coffin and placed in the office of the viceroy of Huguang (which included Hubei, Hunan, and the surrounding areas), were brought back to the site of his execution. Two multicolored tents were set up to host large lifelike portraits of the other two martyrs, Liu Fuji and Yang Hongsheng. Strips of white funerary cloths were hung up according to traditions. The altars were filled with fresh fruits, incense, and sacrificial vessels to feed the martyrs’ spirits. During the ceremony, Peng’s father and the attendants removed their hats to show respect. Standing in front of Peng’s spirit tablet, Peng’s wife and sons cried their hearts out, tugging at the heartstrings of more than a thousand bystanders, most of whom showed up for the lively scene. Officials of the new Republican government in Hubei, including Cai Jimin, also arrived to read elegies and make political speeches. At noon, the ceremony concluded with military music being played to accompany a martial demonstration with rifles.7 In December 1912, the Hubei provincial government ordered the Peng, Liu, and Yang families to transport the bodies of the three martyrs back to their hometown for interment. The Qing viceroy’s office where their sealed coffins had been stored was being converted into the office for the military governor of the new republic—the Beiyang government (1912–1928). To make up for the mandatory eviction, which seemed utterly disrespectful to the celebrated national martyrs, Beiyang vice president Li Yuanhong (1864–1928), a former New Army officer, instructed the Military Affairs Office to send out a full military band to perform during the departure ceremony at the martyrs’ shrine. The Ship Administration Bureau was tasked with providing proper transportation for the coffins and the bereaved families. The Fifth Army Division, which was stationed on the Han River, was ordered to fire cannons in a demonstration of sincerity and respect when the ships carrying the three martyrs’ bodies passed through. The grieving families were reportedly granted death benefits and 2,000 yuan each to bury the bodies in their ancestral villages.8 In 1928, the Beiyang government was effectively dissolved. In its place was the national government ( guomin zhengfu)—established by Chiang Kaishek (1887–1975) in Nanjing—under the Nationalist Party (Guomindang). Again, the Hubei provincial government petitioned the new authorities to honor the families of Peng Chufan, Liu Fuji, and Yang Hongsheng. The petition even included a heartfelt letter from the mother of Peng Chufan. The elderly Mrs. Peng, née Hu, requested additional assistance because her husband had also died leaving her and her widowed daughter-in-law no patriarch on whom to rely.9 Wu Xinghan (1883–1938), a commander during the Wuchang uprising, and other uprising participants also appealed to Nanjing

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on behalf of Liu Fuji.10 However, both petitions were lost somewhere in the bureaucratic maze after being sent off to the Nationalist government’s Executive Yuan and the Military Affairs Commission ( Junshi weiyuanhui) for further consideration. Such occurrences did not deter the political circle in Hubei from continuing to pressure Nanjing to grant the Wuchang uprising the historical significance it deserved. The political cachet associated with being the birthplace of the republic motivated Fang Benren (1880–1951), who had been appointed by the Nationalist government as the Hubei provincial chairman and the head of the civil affairs department, to petition on behalf of the Peng, Liu, and Yang families. The death benefits granted by Vice President Li Yuanhong and former Hubei provincial governor Wang Xiao had stopped coming because the Beiyang government had collapsed. Fang proposed in 1929 that the Nationalist government award these pioneering martyrs’ families “forever annuities” (yongjiu xujin) for their sacrifice to the republic.11 Judging that the three martyrs were soldiers, the Executive Yuan forwarded Fang’s proposal to the Ministry of Military Administration ( Junzheng bu), which, however, did not respond.12 In addition, the national government redirected back to the Hubei provincial government the 1928 petition from the representative for bereaved families of Hubei 1911 revolutionary martyrs “who first rose in revolt” (shouyi).13 The tepid responses from various offices of the Nationalist government were triggered by the assertion in these petitions that the Wuchang uprising on October 10 was the pioneering moment that brought forth the fall of the 2,000-year imperial system and the foundation of the republic. The Nationalist government, with its original power base in the southeastern China, saw the Hubei revolutionaries as political rivals and chose to promote a different set of martyrs from an earlier uprising in Guangzhou, Guangdong Province. This episode of three Wuchang uprising martyrs shows how the dead played a key role in legitimizing postimperial powers.

The Dead and the Nation The dead necessitate that political, social, and cultural institutions develop the ritual and rhetoric to control the way by which they are remembered. The dead are invested with significance to affirm political legitimacy, to recreate social coherence and temporal continuity, and to constitute the national spirit. Thomas Laqueur’s “work of the dead” underscores the desire of the living to ascribe meaning to moments of death, the afterlife, and corporal remains, and to treat them accordingly.14 Drew Gilpin Faust’s “work of dying” indicates how humans consciously anticipate, approach, and manage

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deaths.15 Achille Mbembe defines the “work of death” as the necropower of the state to determine “who matters and who does not, who is disposable and who is not.”16 My book examines such “work” in the context of twentieth-century China’s political and social transformation. The millions of revolutionary and war dead needed to be both disposed of and mourned. The dead do not have agency, but they are powerful. Fallen combatants and civilians gained posthumous significance by serving as intimate bonds between the new political regime and the old familial lineage, as haunting ghosts of the local community, as ancestral deities of the imagined nation-state, and even as bones of contention in international disputes. At the same time, the state exerted necropower by directing scarce resources to construct shrines to the loyal dead and to recompense families of fallen soldiers while depriving the citizenry of military protection and encouraging the general population to resist the enemy even at the expense of their lives. The nation-state’s efforts to manage the dead and bereaved families touched on multiple facets of China’s modernity, altering the relationships between the state and society, the nation and the family, and the living and the dead. It is no surprise that the attempt to discipline the dead manifested as soon as the gun smoke from the 1911 uprisings in various regions of the Qing Empire dissipated. The new republic hastily evicted the loyal ministers and valiant generals who died for the empire from the state altar to make room for new “national martyrs” ( guoshang). Two early Republican regimes, the 1912 Nanjing Provisional Government and the Beiyang government, tried to erase memories of past dynasties by ordering provinces to appropriate temples previously dedicated to Qing dynasty heroes for the commemoration of anti-imperial and revolutionary “martyrs” (lieshi). Such spatial confiscation was supplemented by a new narrative of martyrdom crafted by a Nationalist Party faction in southern China. The new Republican hero faithfully reflected the Confucian ideal man as filial, lettered, loyal, and willing to be martyred (xun) for righteousness while embodying the anti-establishment martial spirit of the turn of the century. This vision tapped into popular aspirations and bridged differences among political factions. Once in power, the Nationalist Party under Chiang Kai-shek projected such a vision of Republican martyrdom into the destiny of a new China. The origin of guoshang can be traced back to the Zhou dynasty (1046–256 BCE). “Guoshang” (The state’s fallen), is one of the “Jiu ge” (Nine songs) from the Chu ci (Songs of Chu). Allegedly collected by Qu Yuan (338–278 BCE), these ballads belonged to the shamanistic tradition of southern China.17 The song “Guoshang” lamented the spirits of soldiers who died a

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violent death in battle and could no longer return to the land of the living. In the twentieth century, the term guoshang was evoked to denote those who martyred themselves for the nation. Related to guoshang is lieshi, which appeared in writings dating back to the third century BCE. Lieshi initially indicated one who was unafraid of difficulty and death, or one who was fierce.18 During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, lie became associated with Han ethnonationalism (as opposed the Manchu imperial rulers) and Republicanism. Lieshi became “one who dies for a righteous cause.”19 In addition, zhonglie—those who died “as a result of their loyalty to the Han people or the Republic”—and xianlie—“those who died to bring about the Republic” became widespread in the twentieth century.20 Furthermore, Katherine Carlitz translates lie as “ardently heroic” or “heroically virtuous,” which exclusively denoted sixteenth-century women who died young defending their virginity or widow chastity.21 Unmarried women who killed themselves after being raped were praised as lienü (female martyrs). Women who committed suicide after their husbands died were hailed as liefu (widow martyrs).22 In the twentieth century, those two terms also denoted women who died for a political cause. An equivalent of the verb “to martyr” is xun, which literally means “to follow in death.”23 The Liji (The book of rites), from the fifth to third century BCE, illustrates that some people practiced burying family members, particularly concubines, with the dead patriarchs whereas others considered the custom contrary to propriety.24 The Hanshu (The history of the former Han dynasty), from the first century CE, contains the term xunguo—to die for one’s country.25 In the sixth century CE, xun was also defined as “giving up one’s life on behalf of another.”26 Neo-Confucianists in the Song dynasty (960–1279 CE) further imbued xun with noble and moral implications: the meaning of xun as “noble sacrifice” became predominant.27 By the seventeenth century, xun appeared frequently in heroic tales of men and women who died for “upright fidelity,” especially in relation to the doomed Ming Empire (1368–1644).28 In the late imperial era, xun appeared in various combinations, such as xunyi (to martyr for righteousness), xunzhong (to martyr for loyalty), and xunsi and xunnan (to die a martyr’s death).29 The moralization of xun continued into the twentieth century. Two combinations with specific connotations, xunguo—to die for the (Chinese) nation—and xundang—to die for the (Nationalist) party, dominated the public discourse during the Republican era. Beyond crafting new definitions of worthy death, the Nationalist regime further gained allegiance from its constituency by first extending national martyrdom, previously reserved for members of the Revolutionary Alliance

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(Tongmenghui) and of its successor, the Nationalist Party, to the National Revolutionary Army (Guomin geming jun) soldiers whose deaths paved the road to victory for the Northern Expedition (1926–1928). The expedition established Nationalist direct authority over Jiangsu, Anhui, Zhejiang, and Jiangxi Provinces and nominal control over other regions. Despite objections from revolutionary veterans whose authority was threatened by the emerging crop of martyrs, servicemen, civilian officials, county heads, and militia leaders were allowed into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines (Zhonglie ci) over the course of the 1930s. These shrines manifested the hallowed space reserved for the loyal dead that the Nationalist government ordered each locale to create throughout China. During the 1940s, the state viewed every citizen as a combatant eligible for the honors of martyrdom. Concurrently, mass fatalities prompted the state apparatus to bureaucratize and differentiate the dead and the bereaved, which constituted state making.30 The state scrutinized the posthumous lives in statistical data, biographies, spirit tablets, and petition letters from grieving relatives, and determined whose families would receive honors. The state’s recognition and support could determine who would survive and who would not, especially during wartime. Russ Castronovo argues that although the dead neither vote nor pay taxes, “the final release from embodiment plays a resonant role in the national imagination by suggesting an existence, posthumous as well as posthistorical, that falls outside standard registers of the political.”31 Hence, it is in the best interest of the state to attempt to capitalize on such existence. In the case of China, the Nationalist commendation and compensation laws (baoyang fuxu tiaoli) in response to the increase in conflict casualties exponentially expanded the necrocitizenry, defined as the population of the deceased who are acknowledged by the state and who are posthumously incorporated into the nation.32 Making and remaking the necrocitizens allowed the Nationalist state to collect metaphorical taxes from their afterlives. In other words, the government extracted value—in the form of patriotic rhetoric and embodiment—from its necroconstituency to legitimatize its presence. In the context of the southwest border in the United States, Margaret E. Dorsey and Miguel Díaz-Barriga define necrocitizenship as both “the construction of citizenship in a war or militarized zone and the privileging of sacrifice and death as the highest mark of citizenship.”33 The Nationalist state’s concern with death manifested in the elaborate celebration of those who gave their lives to the state, even when it meant fewer resources for the living. Furthermore, necrocitizenship emphasizes not only the state’s concern with the death rather than the life of its citizenry but also the living’s evocation of sacrifices to bargain for entry into the constituency.34 These

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evocations were ubiquitous in petition letters in which the offspring of martyrs vowed to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. The intense private emotion caused by death of a loved one could morph into fervent hatred of the enemy and passionate devotion to the idea of national unity. The capacity to discipline the tens of millions of war dead—to control their physical and rhetorical presence—was critical to the state-building project in twentieth-century China, particularly under the Nationalist Party. Compensation committees were formed under the Ministry of the Interior, the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee, and the Military Affairs Commission and tasked with compiling information on the dead. This formation was then used for commemorating war heroes and compensating bereaved families. The records collected by these organizations, albeit scattered and incomplete, shed light on the new reach of the Republican state apparatus in comparison to that of the imperial state. Diana Lary and Stephen MacKinnon argue that the suffering of the Chinese people during the eight years of the War of Resistance against the Japanese Army (1937–1945, also known as the Second Sino-Japanese War and the Anti-Japanese Resistance War) was largely “unrelieved.”35 However, the Nationalist government spent a significant amount of resources on the worthy dead and their families in the form of stipends, tuition waivers, funeral and burial fees, and commemorative structures. In general, the Nationalist government was conscientious and efficient in addressing petitions, although red tape, financial constraints, logistical problems, and excessive demands undermined its efforts to implement compensation regulations. Offices regularly disagreed on whether certain requests should be honored and on the amounts of compensation to which petitioners were entitled. Even if the verdict was positive, in many cases the stipend might never reach the beneficiary, as the provincial or county government was often responsible for disbursing the funds. Many petitions, after traveling through the bureaucratic labyrinth, were left unresolved, leaving the title of martyr an empty promise. Bureaucratic paper trails also reveal women’s important role in facilitating the new state-family connection and in creating new space in the new republic. On the one hand, widows and mothers who lost their husbands and sons on the battlefield, though often considered victims of war, gained significant social and political capital, shaped the domestic hierarchy and the familystate relationship, and dictated the way that wars should be remembered. On the other hand, the state not only changed death from being a family affair to a public affair by taking charge of burying and commemorating the war dead but also replaced the patriarch by taking up his role in promising welfare and education for his widow and orphans. Furthermore, by declaring a fallen

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man a martyr, the state effectively removed the patriarch from the everyday conflicts of the domestic life, reverently placing him on the ancestral altar. The death of the familial patriarch and his replacement by the Nationalist party-state—a powerful and distant authority—made the family less of a terrain of struggle that could allow for more independence and radical thoughts among female and younger male members. Under the Nationalist regime, the body and memory of the war dead of twentieth-century China became the field in which the state and the family negotiated a new, more intimate relationship based on both legality and morality. Although a martyr’s death legally qualified his family for compensation according to the law, the republic continued to rely on Confucian principles of gendered propriety to decide borderline and exceptional cases. The Nationalist government judged petitions not only on the contribution of the martyrs to the party and the state but also on the virtuous conduct of bereaved families. Widows often appealed on the basis of virtue, especially if their cases did not legally qualify for compensation. Women thus helped further the state’s intrusion into the domestic sphere, allowing the state to discipline them on the basis of female chastity. The expectation that martyrs’ widows would devote themselves to preserving the martyrs’ lineages during peacetime became the obligation for women to contribute to the war effort by raising sons to be soldiers and by sacrificing their own lives to safeguard their moral purity to the nation. Such an expectation for women’s roles speaks to “the prevalent trend in nationalist discourse of subordinating women’s roles in the male-centered nation,” as Charles R. Kim and Jungwon Kim argue in the context of Korean history.36 Republican China was not an exception to patriarchal nationalism. In the end, the Nationalist government struggled to take care of its dead for a number of reasons. In the late 1920s, when the Nationalist government first promulgated compensation regulations for martyrs who died during anti-imperial uprisings, the number of eligible recipients was in the thousands. In the 1930s, the categories of people eligible for benefit included servicemembers and bureaucrats who suffered injuries and death in the line of duty. The total war that broke out in 1937 led to a record number of county heads, militiamen, citizen soldiers, and civilians requesting compensation. Hyperinflation forced the government to raise the amounts of stipends up to a hundred or a thousand times by the late 1940s. A 600-yuan stipend in 1928 became 600,000 yuan in 1947.37 Even though it was impossible for the war-fatigued Nationalist government to cater to all of the war dead and their bereaved families, the Nationalist government expanded the compensation regulations to include nongovernment employees, noncommissioned

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INTRODUCTION

militias, and civilians. Anyone from children to the elderly who reportedly displayed resistance to the Japanese invasion was eligible for reward. By implementing these policies, the Nationalists revealed that the military forces lacked the capacity to protect the people and that the state apparatus failed to relieve the expanding constituency. At the same time, the idea of China became stronger than ever. China was reimagined during the War of Resistance against the Japanese Army in 1938 when the fleeing Nationalist government assigned the duties of “resisting the enemy” (kang di) and “protecting the homeland” (shoutu) to the general population with the promise of posthumous honors. “People’s war” not only was a military strategy to fight a superior enemy but made the general population worthy of being the national dead. The ending of the Second Sino-Japanese War to a large extent marked the final step in the nation-building project in China. The whole population, based on their newly granted eligibility for martyrdom, was incorporated into the nation-state. The Nationalist state viewed both military and civilian casualties as resistance to the enemy and confirmation of its legitimacy. During the “times of emergency” (feichang shiqi) and in the “war zones” (zhanqu), the citizenry were made to “pay for their participation in political life with an unconditional subjection to the power of death,” as Giorgio Agamben theorizes.38 Death from overexertion while on duty, at the hand of enemy soldiers, or by war-related catastrophes became a Chinese citizen’s ultimate sacrifice for the nation.

The Mode of Commemoration A visitor to any major town or village in twentieth-century Europe would have encountered a war memorial, a monument aux morts, or a Kriegerdenkmal intended to commemorate lost lives during World War I.39 A visitor to China around the same time would similarly have found in many counties Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines with the names of martyrs carved on wooden tablets, sacrificial meats on the altar, and clay statues of ancient heroes in the corner, all of which strived to manifest nationalism, partisan loyalty, and traditional reverence for the spirits. What sets China apart from Western mode of war commemoration was how the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, a localized commemorative project initiated in 1911 and reiterated throughout the 1910s to 1940s, combined nationalist martyrdom with the practice of ancestor worship.40 Republicanera commemoration manuals incorporated both traditional rituals, such as soul-summoning elegies and sacrificial items reserved for ancestor worship,

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and modern rites, such as raising the national flag, bowing to Sun Yat-sen’s (1866–1925) portrait, and playing military tunes. During an enshrinement ceremony, government representatives delivered standardized elegies, dictated timed moments of silence, and presented flower wreaths. New commemorative rituals wrested the dead away from their families, lineages, and communities and employed their posthumous identities to promote national belonging, party loyalty, and militaristic value. Although the Chinese government built some public cemeteries during World War II, they were fewer and smaller than those organized by national war graves commissions in the West. The primary means of commemoration were the government-mandated Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, which hosted spirits and contained no bodies. The local population paid reverence to these spirits and fed them with sacrificial provisions in exchange for their moral power.41 In China, each person is believed to have multiple souls that simultaneously stay with the body in the grave, go to the underworld, and dwell in the tablet bearing the person’s name. Families of the fallen frequently transported their bodies back to their home counties for burial, offered sacrifices at the ancestral altars, visited the graves, and prayed at local temples for their salvation. Simultaneously, county governments organized public sacrifices for the same dead at the local Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and conjured their presence by reciting their names and deeds. The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine project shed a new light on the entwined relationship of politics and religion in twentieth-century China. This relationship is exemplified by Rebecca Nedostup’s concept of “superstitious regimes.” The Nationalists and their Communist successors, like modernizing elites in other countries, went after various traditions viewed as impeding nation building and modernization.42 Although the Nationalists failed to rid the populace of beliefs deemed as superstitions or regulate religious practices at the local level, they manifested the global disenchantment trend in their rhetoric of the afterlife. The supernatural did not make an appearance in Republican sources, whereas tales of perfectly preserved corpses that belonged to people of exceptional morality populated late nineteenth-century commemoration prints.43 Instead of miracles, the twentieth-century political regime promised the martyrs that their “noble spirits would remain” (haoqi chang cun) for as long as the regime lasted. The Chinese way of honoring the dead distinctively focuses on spirits rather than bodies. It offers a striking contrast to Christianity, for instance, in which the flesh of the eminent dead bears extraordinary powers.44 Furthermore, whereas the ghostly soldiers in Will Longstaff ’s painting The Menin

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INTRODUCTION

Gate at Midnight triggered debates about psychic and spiritualist influences in the 1920s and 1930s, references to “loyal spirits” (zhonghun) frequently appeared in Republican China’s government documents, newspapers, and other publications without controversy.45 “Comforting the loyal spirits” (yi wei yinghun), which was frequently used as the rationale for enshrinement and offering sacrifices in the late Qing, continued into the Republican era.46 The Chinese dead, however, are not worshiped.47 Instead, they receive sacrifices from the living. The imperial practice of organizing public sacrifice ( gongji) to virtuous members of the local community influenced the manner of honoring the dead in the twentieth century. Commemoration practices included offering sacrifice ( jisi), enshrinement (ru ci), spring sacrifice (chun ji), autumn sacrifice (qiu ji), and remembrance ( jinian). Republican-era elegies echoed some rhetorical elements of shamanistic rituals as seen in “Da zhao” (The great summons) and “Zhaohun” (Summoning the soul) of the Chu ci (Songs of Chu). The privileges of enshrinement and sacrifices bestowed on the loyal dead not only constituted posthumous honors but were also necessary to ensure a proper afterlife. The enshrined spirits of the Chinese dead became ancestors and guardians of the community. The connection between offering sacrifices to the dead and forming a community was ever more crucial in the construction of the nation in twentieth-century China. Republican leaders sought to create a nationally coherent body of both the living and the dead, different from the multiethnic, multireligious, and multinational Qing Empire. With the success of the Northern Expedition, the Nationalist government in Nanjing was able to implement many nation-building projects that sought to create what Presenjit Duara calls “an identification of the citizen with the nationstate and an increase in his participation, commitment, and loyalty to it.”48 One of the projects was the memorialization of the loyal dead. The war dead catalyzed the rise of nationalism as a new religiosity. Any combination of Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian cosmologies could hardly rationalize the catastrophic level of war in twentieth-century China, especially when their imperial and elite patrons had lost their political power or rejected these beliefs themselves. The imperial tradition of shrine building for the virtuous and the practice of offering sacrifices to the loyal dead provided the infrastructure and the rhetoric for the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines during the Republican era. Beginning in the Song dynasty, as the central and local governments emphasized virtues in their undertakings, such commemorative shrines as those for the chaste and the filial ( jie xiao), eminent officials (minghuan), and local worthies (xiangxian) were built in many localities.49 From 1470

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to 1550 CE, two provinces in the Lower Yangzi River region, Zhejiang and Jiangsu, saw a burst of Local Worthies’ Shrines for male exemplars of Confucian virtues and Eminent Officials’ Shrines for men with contributions in administration, water control, or disaster relief. These shrines, often paired together, helped “communicate a model of secular social power” as none of them was efficacious (ling), that is, able to grant prayers with miraculous favors. These secular shrines replaced “supernatural power with the social power of the resident elite,” as Katherine Carlitz argues.50 The tradition of Local Worthies’ Shrines continued during the Qing dynasty.51 Another type of secular shrine was the Temples of Literature (Wenmiao), which often hosted schools as well as altars to the sages, eminent officials, and local worthies.52 With the construction of the Manifest Loyalty Shrine (Zhaozhong ci) to the east of the Forbidden City in 1724, the empire began to enshrine all fallen military men and irregulars, regardless of rank, and to have their biographies composed by scholars of the Hanlin Academy, the most prestigious academic institution in the imperial era. The Qianlong Emperor (r. 1735–1796), who carried out a multitude of military campaigns himself, ordered shrines for officers and officials built throughout the empire by the end of the eighteenth century, and commissioned other war mementos. Under the reign of Jiaqing (1796–1820), war commemoration expanded to the prefectural level, largely because of the unprecedented level of casualties in the White Lotus War (1794–1804). When the Manifest Loyalty Shrine in Beijing ran out of room to host memorial tablets of the military dead, the Qing government authorized the construction of dozens of Manifest Loyalty Shrines in the provinces and counties, creating an imperially dictated space for the war dead.53 The construction of local shrines in the first half of the nineteenth century showed the imperial effort to broaden the culture of war to a larger audience, to localize war commemoration, and to strengthen the ties between the state and local communities.54 In the aftermath of the Taiping Civil War (1850–1864), many county authorities and local communities sought to commemorate the dead of their own defense forces with the authorization of the Board of Rites and financial help from provincial governments. Regional leaders such as Zeng Guofan (1811–1872) and Li Hongzhang (1823–1901) petitioned to build shrines for officials, gentry, and militia soldiers from their areas.55 The North-China Herald and Supreme Court and Consular Gazette and the North-China Daily News reported thirty-one petitions from local gentry from 1876 to 1905 requesting permission to build memorial shrines to local martyrs. Many of these shrines would later host Republican martyrs.

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INTRODUCTION

The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine undertaking during the Republican era was an expansion of imperial governments’ attempts to supplant local cults with state-sponsored shrines and to reorient the public toward civic virtues by evoking exemplars of extreme loyalty and sacrifice.56 A critical development in the Ming dynasty was the incorporation of the war dead into the Confucian state cult. The Hongwu Emperor (r. 1368–1398 CE) bade capital and local governments establish altars and provide sacrifices for the untended souls of dead soldiers in every rural community, marking the beginning of the state’s attempt to monopolize the afterlife.57 These altars were often hosted within the City God Temples, which served as part of the state orthodoxy. The Ming government also commanded the construction of the City God Temples in every locality to supplant the local shrines that venerated ghosts and spirits.58 The move toward creating an imperially dictated space for the war dead was furthered by the Manchu rulers. State efforts to commemorate the loyal war dead became increasingly prominent in the Qing dynasty, as it was a conquest dynasty that constantly engaged in large-scale military campaigns. Republican-era propagation of shrines to heroism was, however, unprecedented in Chinese history, as is well documented by communication between the central government and the provinces as well as between the provinces and the counties. One may argue that the sea of paperwork simply reflected a well-oiled bureaucratic machine rather than the construction of local shrines on the ground. Nonetheless, there was evidence for physical shrines and the sense of political belonging fostered by the Nationalist government’s shrine-building project. Bureaucratic correspondences also revealed increasing support for the modern nation-state as the legitimate broker of violence. Regional power holders, groups of different political affiliations, and local communities to a large extent shared the Nationalist ideals and practices concerning the loyal dead. By making the war dead visible to the public through enshrinement and commemoration rituals, the state prepared communities that had experienced tremendous loss for further sacrifice. The Nationalist government created the Loyal Sacrifice Shrines that combined ancestor worship with civilian revolutionary martyrdom. The extensive Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine project attested to the vision, capacity, and influence of the Chinese Republic.59 The population of these shrines integrated in China’s landscape, the nationalist religiosity embedded in commemorative rituals, and the legitimacy of Republican martyrs acknowledged by local communities demonstrated a level of success in state making.60

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The Nationalist state’s shrine project was aimed at mobilizing the population for the war effort through the creation of rhetoric that celebrated patriotic citizenship. Before the age of museums, these shrines played an essential role in crafting national identity. The shrines and their exhibitions shaped the way the nation narrated its national past, imagined its geographical extent, and defined the qualifications for citizenship.61 Commemorative objects—in particular, the spirit tablets of martyrs—were visual aids that connected the participants in regular sacrifices to the historical narrative crafted by the Nationalist state. The shrines had the effect of creating a historical time that began in 1911 and a coherent community that faced episodic obstacles marked by the dates, places, and circumstances of death inked on these tablets. The state instilled patriotism in local communities through the display of martyrs’ biographies in the shrines and via regular commemorative events held on anniversaries of important occurrences, such as the beginning of the Northern Expedition, the Mukden Incident in 1931, and the Marco Polo Bridge Incident in 1937. The latter two events refer to the Japanese Army’s invasion in Manchuria and China, respectively. Public sacrifices to martyrs familiarized ordinary citizens with the idea of the national community, readying them for the birth of the nation.62 This point was even more poignant when the Republican-era public memorials were dedicated to soldiers and civilians. Although the Nationalist government tried to reserve the Loyal Sacrifice Shrines as the exclusive space for Republican revolutionaries, Nationalist Party members, and fallen soldiers of the National Revolutionary Army, communities translated the central government’s directives into something that also served local interests. Instead of following the state regulations to appropriate Guan-Yue Temples—dedicated to the two paragons of military prowess and loyalty, Guan Yu (160–220 CE) and Yue Fei (1103–1142 CE)—local authorities often chose shrines of lesser significance and status to convert into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines.63 This strategy was adopted to avoid conflict with local interest groups. County governments and local groups used the governmentmandated shrines to offer sacrifices to traditional deities, village militiamen, Taiping Civil War heroes, and other unauthorized martyrs. The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in Beiping (as Beijing was then renamed) and Chongqing teemed with businesses, societies, and tenant farmers, undermining the sanctity prescribed by the state regulations. In addition, as Kirk Denton shows, one finds the legacy of the Republican-era Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in People’s Republic commemorative structures, especially in terms of crafting a national discourse of martyrdom and localizing the central government’s vision.64

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INTRODUCTION

Despite the official dictation of solemn remembrance and loyalty to the body politic, the familial and individual memories of the dead were multifaceted and often contradicted the government’s mandate. The dead, although appropriated by the new nation-state, never fully left the familial realm. Whereas many bereaved families in Republican China petitioned for months or years to receive the posthumous honors bestowed by the Nationalist government, others declined state funerals and requested permission to remove bodies of martyrs from public monuments for private burial. Such resistance was not uncommon. Chang-tai Hung argues that even for the Communist regime, death was still “an intensively private matter among the martyrs’ loved ones” and the “cult of the red martyr” was a “contested terrain” over which the Communist Party could not maintain a monopoly.65 Similarly, Akiko Takenaka maintains that although the institutions of the Yasukuni Shrine, which honors those who died for the emperor, occasionally helped bereaved families find solace, the state could not fully control their responses.66 Heonik Kwon demonstrates the palpable tension between the Vietnamese government and the bereaved families who turned to spirit mediums to find the corpses of their loved ones from the Vietnam War.67 Likewise, in Republican China, the national dead did not cease to be family members and friends whose former lives spilled beyond the margins of the pages of the national biography. When family members of the fallen sought representation within the new Chinese nation-state through their affiliation with the recognized dead, their petition narratives revealed their emotions and affective connection to the nation. In piles of official documents, powerful narratives of loss and survival emerged. In one instance, a son told of having to witness the executioners of his father prospering while his family was destroyed. In another instance, a woman was reduced to absolute indigence after her husband and younger son were killed and her pregnant daughter-in-law committed suicide out of desperation. In yet another instance, an elderly father became temporarily paralyzed and mute after learning about the brutal torture and execution of his son. Although I agree with many historians who see the War of Resistance as “the nadir of civilian suffering in modern China,” the complexity of experience and awareness of various segments of the population with regard to the nature and level of destruction deserves more understanding.68 The immense sense of loss bound the survivors to the institutions of the state. Nonetheless, like many imperial predecessors, the Republican state followed the “metaphysically impoverished” Neo-Confucian funerary ritual, which offered neither spiritual comfort nor atonement after death.69 The bereaved were left to find ways to mourn. In the search for closure, family members

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expressed their emotions in petition letters to the state, which they hope would validate their pain and provide relief.

The Virtue of Violence According to his biographer Zheng Lie (1888–1958), Lin Juemin (1887–1911) “assumed a calm countenance, lifted his head with self-composure, and stretched out his neck for the executioner’s sword.”70 His co-conspirator in the plot to overthrow the provincial government, Lin Yimin (1887–1911), “continued to fight while drenched in blood and only crumpled after his lifeforce was drained from a bullet in his head,” as Zheng Lie described in his 1912 collection of martyrs’ biographies.71 Such vivid descriptions of heroic demise reveal a paradigmatic turn to celebrate brutal deaths for political ideals and support the necessity of violence. Violence in various forms has always been as part of Chinese culture, despite the official norms of harmony.72 In twentieth-century China, violence prompted traditional expressions of loyalty and sacrifice while shattering the integrity of the established worldview. Such a rupture/revival dynamic is the same as what Paul Fussell and Jay Winter contradictorily and yet complimentarily describe as the European experience around World War I.73 Although conflict had traditionally been deemed tragic and sorrowful in Chinese literature, it was celebrated in the twentieth century and became associated with virtue. Writings on war by individuals, groups, and the government hailed violence as a necessity, dwelled on gory details of abrupt demise, and celebrated the dead as paragons of virtue. Furthermore, elegies for war heroes evoked expressions of virtues found in Confucian classics, such as righteousness, martyrdom, loyalty, and humaneness. Petition letters, martyrs’ biographies, and public elegies constructed lives of moral conduct and deaths of selfless sacrifice for war heroes. National martyrs were hailed not only as heroic combatants but also as virtuous family and community members. Indeed, as Louise Edwards and Lili Zhou argue, with the 1911 Revolution, “a new ideal of masculine virtue emerged, and it was one that propounded the virtue of violence.”74 Unlike the peaceful, stoic, and penitent death for which the Union soldiers and their grieving parents yearned in the midst of uncertainties and cruelties of the American Civil War battles, a death worthy of enshrinement in Republican China was characterized by violence, patriotism, and a sense of righteousness.75 The Nationalist government crafted credible narratives of national birth, national belonging, and national sacrifice that allowed citizens to identify themselves with the nation. The expression “dying heroically in battle”

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originated in imperial China, but only in the twentieth century did the expression acquire patriotic ramifications.76 Nationalist revolutionaries reportedly shouted “Long live China!” before their last breath. These patriotic tropes in Republican China were common in many parts of the world where anticolonial movements surged.77 Biographies of martyrs celebrating heroism consolidated the ideal of sacrifice for the new Chinese nation-state. War and destruction, devastated families and communities, and social and financial capital associated with national martyrdom further enticed people to commit to the new rhetoric of belonging. Bereaved widows and mothers reiterated the state-approved rhetoric of sacrifice in exchange for recompense and acknowledgment from the government. Petitioning for compensation fortified the shared notion of martyrdom among the population. The increasing presence of such stock phrases as “dying for the nation and the party” in petition letters signified a change in perception of those who wished to present themselves and their dead family members as revolutionary and loyal citizens. Another question to ponder with respect to the nature of violence is why, decades later, World War II could be seen as a precursor to even larger-scale violence in China, whereas after 1945 Western European countries were relatively peaceful.78 Given that postwar demilitarization took place in both mainland China and Western Europe, that did not explain the divergence. Rather, the transformation in the way by which wars were commemorated in the first half of the twentieth century serves as a better explanation. In China’s case, the mythologized presence of civilians in war narratives and the erased divide between formal armed forces and civilian militias in government documents extended and legitimized the realm of violence.79 This process of civilianizing war intensified during the Japanese invasion. The myth of civilians saving the nation out of patriotism permeated both popular and official narratives of the War of Resistance. In collections of martyrs’ tales printed in the 1940s, the Nationalists ascribed a lofty ultimate purpose for civilian deaths by turning tragedies into epics. In official documents, civilians killed by the Japanese Army were not victims but active agents willingly and even willfully offering their lives to protect the national pride. As the formal armed forces retreated, the Nationalist government issued new regulations promising civil bureaucrats, local militias, and the general population official titles, military posts, monetary rewards, and posthumous fame if they defended their communities from the invasion. The blurred distinction between military and civilian was not only the doing of the state. Intellectuals with Nationalist affiliation urged the public to develop a chivalrous spirit and dare to die for the nation. Bereaved family members

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and local communities supplied tales of martyrdom to the government for recognition and compensation. The modern Chinese state and society further valorized violence in the commemoration of civilian and military war dead during the War of Resistance. That conflicts were viewed as rational political choices, inevitable in the modern age, and inseparable from human experience laid the rhetorical ground for new levels of violence in later decades. Political struggle continued during the Korean War and the Taiwan Strait War of the 1950s. The Great Leap Forward (1958–1961) and the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) testify to how mid-century wars normalized death and violence in the cultural, social, and economic realms. Rather than focusing on the prominent wars of the late 1930s and 1940s like many scholars of modern China, the next five chapters examine the making of modern China through its dead during a period of prolonged conflict.80 This period began with anti-imperial agitations in the last two decades of the Qing dynasty and ended with the conclusion of the NationalistCommunist struggle for power in mainland China.81 I rely on bureaucratic records, petition letters, government gazettes, periodicals, and other printed materials collected during my multiyear archival research in eleven national, provincial, and municipal archives and libraries in China and Taiwan.82 The protagonists of my book are those who died in armed conflicts and the living—top decisionmakers, middle-range bureaucrats, local officials, bereaved family members, and witnesses—who dealt with the most catastrophic period of human history thus far. In the following pages, I examine changes in political definitions and legal regulations of martyrdom, the communal and personal experience with conflicts, and the memorialization of violence in the immediate aftermath.

Ch a p ter 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. 20

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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-turnedsoldiers’ 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 drowned himself after the fall of his state. A symbol of loyalty in the imperial era and of morality among those who chose to withdraw from politics, Qu Yuan was denounced by twentieth-century intellectuals as a coward and an escapist.8 More important, the postimperial governments saw the revamped celebration of martyrdom as a powerful instrument to exert political and moral

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superiority, restore social order, and unify communities of survivors. In the immediate aftermath of the 1911 Revolution, Sun Yat-sen’s Nanjing Provisional Government took up anti-Manchu rhetoric while emphasizing the narrative of loyalty to Republicanism as a way to marshal the Han majority. In the 1910s and 1920s, the anti-imperial and mutinous spirit of the New Army officers, supported by the Beiyang government, garnered some public attention. Stories of elegant and cultured youths of the 1911 Yellow Flower Hill uprising promoted by Nationalist Party members, however, aligned more with the public imagination. Similar to the way in which the contemporaneous communists inserted themselves in the community of miners in Jiangxi by relying on Confucian and nationalistic rhetoric, secret society structure, and popular-religion rituals, the Nationalists found support in Guangdong by allying with popular desires and sentiments regarding self-sacrifice.9 Despite its failure, the Yellow Flower Hill uprising dominated the culture of heroism, furthering the ideals of male citizenship and a unifying vision of national martyrdom during the beginning of the Nationalist era.

Great Han Heroes During his months-long tenure as the president of the new republic, Sun Yat-sen took on the task of finding the new national dead. Sun allied with many late-Qing intellectuals’ desire to construct national history by promoting a set of anti-Manchu heroes.10 In February 1912, the Nanjing Provisional Government’s Ministry of the Army bade provincial military governments to convert both Qing government Manifest Loyalty Shrines and post-Taiping shrines, the latter of which had been built to honor late nineteenth-century regional military leaders in the Taiping Civil War, into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines (Da Han zhonglie ci).11 This order emphasized the racial difference between the Manchu rulers and Han Chinese subjects by referring to “Han” or “Han ethnicity” (Hanzu) as one qualifier for martyrdom.12 The Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines would commemorate individual military and civilian martyrs and the collective dead in the early years of the twentieth century. The shrines would memorialize those who died during anti-imperial agitations in Pingxiang, Liuyang, and Liling Counties (in the Jiangxi-Hunan border region) in 1903–1905, during the Zhennan Pass (in the Sino-Vietnamese border region) uprising in 1907, during the 1908 uprising in Qinzhou and Lianzhou (both in Guangdong), during the Guangzhou New Army uprising in 1910, and during the Wuchang uprising in 1911. They would also honor martyrs of such events as the Jinling Restoration ( Jinling guangfu), which referred to Sun Yat-sen’s takeover of Nanjing in 1911, and

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the Beijing assassinations (Beijing ansha), which included various attempts of revolutionaries to murder Qing officials at the turn of the century. The enshrined ones would constitute the “vanguard revolutionary martyrs” ( geming xianlie), which included formal and alleged members of the Revolutionary Alliance and the Nationalist Party. The list of “vanguard revolutionary martyrs” later included Nationalist Party members of Sun Yat-sen’s faction who died during intraparty conflicts in the late 1910s and early 1920s. These revolutionaries and party members became the nobilities of the Nationalist state and received special honors. Sun Yat-sen endeavored to enshrine many martyrs for their anti-Manchu sentiments and preference for violent attacks. Their popularity in the public discourse, driven by the arrival of modern newspapers and journalism, helped advance the legitimacy of the republic. At the top of Sun’s Great Han Martyr list was Zou Rong (1885–1905), an anti-Qing intellectual and revolutionary from Sichuan. Drawing on social Darwinism, Zou argued that racial differences existed between the Han people and the Manchu people (Manren). Zou Rong accused the Manchus of heinous crimes against the Chinese people, citing the plundering and destruction in Yangzhou and Jiading during the Manchu conquest in the seventeenth century as well as the way that the conquerors forced on the subjugated population such barbaric customs as the queue and the long gown. Zou called for a violent end to Manchu rule in his political treatise Geming jun (The revolutionary army). He was arrested by the Qing authorities and subsequently died during imprisonment.13 Assassins who had targeted Qing officials were now esteemed as martyrs of the republic. Shi Jianru (1879–1900), a Cantonese member of the Revive China Society (Xing Zhong hui) founded by Sun Yat-sen in 1894, was beheaded for plotting a bomb attack on the governor of Guangdong in 1900.14 Another assassin was Wu Yue (1878–1905), a native of Zhangjiakou in Hubei and a member of the Restoration Society (Guangfu hui) and Northern Assassination Corps (Beifang ansha tuan). Expressing strong anti-Manchu sentiments and promoting assassination as the means to overthrow the imperial rule, Wu died while attempting a suicide-bomb attack on Qing commissioners. Wu’s claim to fame included his testimony “The Age of Assassination” which advocated for race-based extermination.15 Another martyr was Xu Xilin (1873–1907), a Zhejiang native who was arrested, shot, and disemboweled after having assassinated a Manchu bannerman in 1907.16 That same year, Yang Zhuolin (1876–1907), a Hunanese, was captured and executed for attempting to murder Duanfang (1861–1911), the Manchu viceroy of Jiangsu, Jiangxi, and Anhui. Wen Shengcai (1870–1911) was publicly beheaded for attempting to kill a Manchu general with a pistol.17 Peng Jiazhen (1888–1912), a Sichuanese,

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made various assassination attempts with explosives against Manchu officials and eventually perished by his own homemade bombs during his last attempt on the life of the Manchu commander Liangbi (1877–1912).18 Missing from the Great Han Martyr list was Qiu Jin (1875–1907), a female revolutionary activist, who was implicated in Xu Xilin’s assassination. Sun, however, mentioned Qiu Jin in many of his speeches and visited her tomb.19 In addition, the Nanjing Provisional Government promoted to the rank of martyrs many political activists who ideologically upheld provincialism and regionalism rather than nationalism, in particular those of the provincialist movement in Hunan. Among them were Yu Zhimo (1866–1907), a provincial patriot who incited anti-Qing government activities, Liu Daoyi (1884–1906) who organized uprisings in the Ping-Liu-Li region in 1906 and 1907, and Ma Fuyi (1865–1905), a member of the Society of Elders and Brothers (Gelaohui), who organized the 1904 Pingxiang uprising.20 Sun Yat-sen proposed to enshrine these three martyrs in Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and to have their biographies composed by the State History Academy (Guoshiyuan). Although many of these scattered and small-scale uprisings were neither the sole working of the Revolutionary Alliance nor part of the effort to consolidate all of China, they were strung together into a coherent movement in Sun’s commemorative narrative. By bringing these martyrs, born in various provinces and buried in others, into the same space, Sun made the idea of China as a collective whole viable and his inclusive philosophy of Republicanism appealing to many political groups. The Nanjing Provisional Government emphasized the common spirt of sacrifice, possession of virtuous superiority, and leadership of the Republican martyrs. These martyrs did not hesitate “to toss away their bones and flesh in the ultimate sacrifice of life, to calmly face death while unyieldingly establishing the new form of government, and to enthusiastically abandon their own existence as they suffered from illnesses and political party calamities.”21 Such characterizations of loyalty and sacrifice sought to erase these political actors’ differences of geography, ideology, and intent, while at the same time stressing the definitive leadership of the Revolutionary Alliance and the Nationalist Party in the uprising. After selecting the martyrs of the new nation, the Nanjing Provisional Government ordered provinces to meticulously survey other “martyrdom tales of the utmost loyal Great Han superior men” and to enter them into the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines within their jurisdiction. The Ministry of the Army even pledged to dispatch representatives to regulate and organize memorial services not only to “comfort the martyrs’ spirits in heaven but also to deprive the souls of the traitors of the Han race [of recognition].” Local

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governments were instructed to promptly make offerings to these Republican martyrs and “for eternity provide their loyal souls with solace.”22 The spring and autumn sacrifices were scheduled on the solar date of the Republican Unification (February 15) and the lunar date of the Wuchang uprising (the nineteenth of the eighth month) so as to “encourage the military aspiration, foster martial spirit, and turn Republicanism into a popular cause of no temporal and spatial limits.”23 In addition, these ceremonies aimed “to console the spirit of the dead, to generate energy of the living, and to shed light on the righteousness of illuminating the martyrs and punishing the traitors.”24 Han-Manchu ethnic dichotomy, which preceded and factored in the rise of nationalism in twentieth-century China, mattered in the realm of the dead. Denying dead foes a proper afterlife was a form of eternal punishment and an attempt to reduce the potency of living enemies. In traditional Chinese culture, the most important matter of human beings in the afterlife was to receive sacrificial rites and goods from the living. Death was not an eternal, peaceful respite. The dead were invoked to fight battles for the living. To justify decommissioning imperial Manifest Loyalty Shrines, the Ministry of the Army proclaimed that the “tyrannical and violent” Qing Empire had constructed “excessive shrines” (lan ci) everywhere. Now that the territory of the Han had been recovered, the Qing “heretical” or “superfluous” shrines (yin ci) had to be replaced.25 The Republican government’s rhetoric of replacing inappropriate sacrifices with proper worship of loyal souls paralleled the imperial-era categories of orthodoxy and heterodoxy.26 Justifying its conversion plan by declaring the imperially commissioned shrines for the war dead “deviant,” the 1912 Republic in Nanjing resorted to the rhetoric of the imperial state to condemn religious cults, while eschewing the religion/ secularism dichotomy commonly used by the modern nation state. This plan of the Nanjing Provisional Government received mixed responses. The Manifest Loyalty Shrine in Beijing escaped conversion. Anhui and Hunan provincial governments chose different shrines to convert into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines.27 The Jiangxi provincial government even responded unfavorably to the request, arguing that regime change should not necessitate destruction of the past. The Qing dynasty did not seek to abolish shrines built to honor Song, Yuan, and Ming loyal and righteous people. Therefore, the republic, as the new dynasty, “should not arbitrarily destroy” shrines to loyal officials of the previous dynasty to “preserve propriety” and “protect civilization.” Instead, the republic should preserve Qing shrines to the worthies, such as those of Zeng Guofan and Zuo Zongtang (1812–1885), two leading figures of the Hunan Army.28 The Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines did not gain much traction after 1912 because Han-Manchu ethnic

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tension receded. The regional power holders (the so-called warlords), the communists, and the Japanese Army replaced the Qing Empire as formidable enemies of the Nationalist regime. Most localities left their Qing-era Manifest Loyalty Shrines untouched until the Nationalist government in Nanjing began a new and more rigorous conversion campaign in 1936. For military officers ineligible for enshrinement in the Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, the Nanjing Provisional Government generously honored their deaths with compensation and posthumous promotions. When Huang Xing (1874–1916), the minister of the army, brought forth the case of three officers of the 1911 Revolution, Wu Luzhen (1880–1911), Zhang Shiying (1884–1911), and Zhou Weizhen (1880–1911), Sun Yat-sen as president promptly approved their compensation. Huang petitioned to grant Wu Luzhen the rank of a general and grant the Wu family a one-time stipend of 1,500 yuan and an annual stipend of 800 yuan. For Zhang Shiying, as the general of the right (you jiangjun), the family would receive a one-time stipend of 1,100 yuan and an annual stipend of 600 yuan. For Zhou Weizhen, as a captain, his family would be awarded a one-time payment of 900 yuan and an annual stipend of 500 yuan. Huang Xing reasoned that these gestures “set the standards of rewards for the new republic, announced the nation to the world, and compensated loyal and sacrificing intentions.”29 Sun further commented: “As the proposal from the Ministry of the Army truly showed great understanding, I approve as it is. Let [the honors] be known widely.”30 The three military officers were assassinated by the order of Yuan Shikai (1859–1916), a former Qing dynasty general who became the first official president of the republic. By celebrating the deaths of these officers, Sun and Huang undermined the claim to legitimacy of Yuan, their political rival. Disciplining the dead served as a critical component in establishing social and cultural legitimacy in the early Republican era. Sun Yat-sen strategically included in his government’s pantheon those who died while attacking members of the Qing government. Many revolutionaries enshrined by the Nanjing Provisional Government fit the definition of “terrorists,” as they left terrifying impressions on the people with their acts of brutality in public places. Newspapers and other publications, in addition to reporting on these figures’ assassination attempts with explosives and firearms, vividly captured their subsequent arrests, tortures, and executions.31 Tapping into public sentiment with regard to these political activists, Sun elevated them to national martyrs and revolutionary predecessors of the republic. Although Sun Yat-sen’s presidency did not last long, his legacies lasted into the Nanjing decade (1928–1937). During this decade of relative stability after

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the Northern Expedition and before the War of Resistance, the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek in Nanjing propagated the same rhetoric of martyrdom.

Pro-State Martyrs When Yuan Shikai became the first formal president of the republic in March 1912, the Beiyang government took over the task of conducting regular sacrifices to martyrs of the Republican cause. Although Yuan as a Qing official had previously suppressed anti-Qing revolutionary activities, he turned around and used these revolutionaries as tools to legitimize his new government. Yuan played a role in creating Republican commemorative institutions and the ideal of “martyrs as citizen soldiers.”32 The Beiyang government created a number of offices to manage the afterlife of the national dead and state commemorative rituals. In 1912, Yuan Shikai set up an honors bureau in Beijing to investigate the names of those who sacrificed their lives for the anti-imperial revolution and a rituals bureau to organize the spring and autumn sacrifices. The Beiyang government also appointed a committee to be in charge of constructing the Beijing Martyrs’ Memorial Shrine (Beijing xianlie jinianci). Members of the newly formed Beijing Memorial Martyrs’ Shrine Construction Committee had minds of their own. The committee petitioned to enshrine two martyrs, Wu Luzhen and Song Jiaoren (1882–1913).33 This petition, emphasizing repeatedly the need to honor these two political figures, proved to be a deliberate effort of the committee to defy the Beiyang government. Yuan Shikai reportedly had both Wu and Song murdered. While serving as an officer in the imperial New Army, Wu was associated with anti-imperial revolutionaries who revolted against the Qing government.34 Song Jiaoren, one of the most prominent Revolutionary Alliance leaders, was on the way to becoming China’s first premier when he was shot to death.35 The committee purchased the Huayan Temple and drafted a blueprint of a Western-style stone monument in 1914. Because of the conflict over the martyrization of Wu Luzhen and Song Jiaoren, the Yuan government’s Ministry of Internal Affairs confiscated the Huayan Temple and dissolved the committee.36 After its vision for a grand shrine at the site of the Huayan Temple was thwarted, the Beiyang government converted part of the fifteenth-century Altar to Agriculture (Xiannong tan) into the Beijing Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in 1914.37 Once this was completed, the government organized a memorial for the Yellow Flower Hill uprising martyrs. Although the uprising took place on April 27, 1911, it was commemorated on March 29 every year, because

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the uprising occurred on the twenty-ninth day of the third month according to the lunar calendar. From 1914 to 1927, on October 10—the anniversary of the New Army uprising in Wuchang—the Beiyang government held annual public sacrifice for the national dead without fail at the Altar to Agriculture.38 During the Nationalist rule (1928–1937, 1945–1949), the Beiping municipality rented out rooms to be used as temporary military barracks, an epidemic prevention office, and for school meetings and political training.39 The municipality also leased idle spaces in the Altar to Agriculture for individuals to practice sports, plant medicinal herbs, raise animals, host recreational fairs, and run various private businesses.40 Under the Japanese occupation (1937–1945), the Beijing Special Municipality similarly utilized the altar.41 The sacred space for national martyrs was in the midst of the hustle and bustle. On October 2, 1914, the head of the Office of Ritual Regulations (Li zhi guan) of the Hall of Political Affairs (Zhengshi tang), Xu Shichang (1855–1939), raised the matter of building Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines at the local level. According to Xu’s memorandum to the president, Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines would memorialize officers and soldiers who died in battles and civilians who died because of warfare. Xu declared that the Hongwu Emperor of the Ming dynasty in his third year of reign (1371) had initiated the Meritorious Official Shrines for those who rendered great service to the empire and died during the war against the Mongols. This was “the beginning of offering sacrifice to the war dead,” Xu claimed, granting the agency to a Han dynasty.42 The Qing government, following the Ming shrine-building tradition, built Manifest Loyalty Shrines to exclusively honor the empire’s dead. Xu suggested employing these imperial precedents as models. Sacrifices would be offered to all martyrs collectively, not individually. Each locality would build its own shrine for local martyrs, whereas the shrine in Beijing would be dedicated to national martyrs. Provincial governments would be required to collect names of battle casualties and submit them to the president for approval before enshrinement.43 Accordingly, various provinces, such as Jiangxi, began to build their shrines in accordance with the central government’s order, and requested that Beijing partially fund the projects.44 Xu also authorized the 1915 Zhonglie ci jili (Sacrificial rites of the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine), which prescribed sacrificial vessels, rituals, and elegies. The list of indispensable sacrificial goods was substantial. An an (rectangular stand for supporting a wine vessel) was to be placed in the middle of the hall. On the an, there was to be a xing (tripod with two handles and a lid), a dui (round or oval vessel with a lid containing soup), a bian (bamboo bowl of real cooked rice), and four dou (flat, stemmed, and covered saucers) with a variety

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of fruits, pastry, cured fish, meat, and vegetables. In front of these containers, a zu (rectangular table with square legs for animal sacrifice) containing meat from a sheep and a hog was to be installed. Further to the front there was to be a xiang’an (incense table), and a ludeng (furnace or vessel to keep food warm). A zhu’an (praying table) was to be placed to the southwest of the incense table. The list continued to illustrate the setting of furniture in the sacrificial hall and the arrangement of participants during ceremonies.45 These ritual utensils, which can be traced back to the Bronze Age, were promoted in ritual manuals by the Neo-Confucians of the Song dynasty and Ming dynasty. The ritual manuals dictated the proper amounts and order of sacrificial provisions and utensils placed on the altar. The ancestral spirits were then invited to partake in the essence of the offerings, which would then be shared among the participants.46 The goal of sacrifice, as stated in the Liji, was “to transform all the participants through the offering of food”: ghosts into ancestors, “capricious spirits and natural forces” into “hierarchically proper spirits,” and “disparate biological families” into “a single created family.”47 Those who made the offerings gained “a proper reverence for the ancestors” and “familial feelings toward biologically unrelated people.”48 Hence, such elaborate sacrifice was crucial in creating both the community and the hierarchy in the Chinese nation-state. Furthermore, the ceremonial sacrifice was steeped in traditional metaphors, and so was the standard elegy that lauded the enshrined martyrs as “loyal, sacrificing, and in accordance with moral integrity.” The martyrs “did not fear death,” as in death their “life and essence became the [national] territory.” The people would proclaim the martyrs’ “absolute loyalty and supreme courage” (literally, their “verdant blood and crimson heart”), declaring that as “national martyrs,” their “names are bequeathed to posterity for eternity.”49 The elegy promised immortality through the eternal life of the nation. Although the elaborate offerings and rituals were simplified, the allegories continued to feature in elegies throughout the Republican era.

Righteous Revolutionaries When the Nationalist Party rose from a weak faction to become a major political force in the late 1920s, it created an enduring narrative of civilian martyrdom out of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising. Sun Yat-sen loyalists were almost vanquished by Yuan Shikai in the 1910s and at the mercy of Chen Jiongming (1878–1933), a military leader in Guangdong and Guangxi, in the early 1920s.50 During this period, two Revolutionary Alliance veterans and devotees of Sun Yat-sen, Zou Lu (1885–1954) and Zhu Zhixin

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(1885–1920), began to compile Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (The biographies of the seventy-two Yellow Flower Hill martyrs, henceforth, Huanghuagang). Additionally, the founding of Chinese Communist Party in 1921 propelled Zou Lu, “a leading member of the anticommunist wing of the Nationalist Party,” as Henrietta Harrison notes, to publicize this compilation.51 Huanghuagang was published in 1922, on the tenth anniversary of the birth of the republic. Lifting Fujianese martyrs’ biographies from Zheng Lie’s 1912 collection and shuffling them in with biographies of martyrs from other provinces, the main editor Zou Lu effectively downplayed the native-place bias, emphasizing how these seventy-two men of different provinces, backgrounds, and professions came together under the guidance of the Revolutionary Alliance. Whereas the Wuchang uprising commemoration in 1911 was mostly provincial, Zou Lu projected the Yellow Flower Hill uprising to be a national memory. The significance of Huanghuagang lies in its documentation of new forms of commemoration, revolution, and martyrdom and, by extension, the process of nation formation, identity construction, and historical perception. Claiming to write a history, not a eulogy, Zou Lu sought to construct an enduring historiography that portrayed the 1911 violent outburst in Guangzhou as a revolution and endorsed the unfortunate participants as the new nation’s founders. According to Zou Lu’s preface, wanting to record the history truthfully, the editors drafted a request for information that they mailed to those who lived during the time of the uprising. After they sent out the forms in the spring of 1919, over half of the recipients replied by that winter. Zou proclaimed that he then relied on the collected information to compile “reliable history” (xinshi)—a distinction that mattered greatly in comparison with Lin Sen’s (1868–1943) Bixue Huanghua ji (The collected tales of the Yellow Flower righteous bloodshed). Lin’s was a compilation of eulogies delivered at the 1919 memorial service for the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs.52 The main body of Huanghuagang contains thirty-five individual biographies of varying length, one dual biography, two joint biographies, and two lists of names of those without biographies.53 Zou Lu lamented that details on comrades from Sichuan and Guizhou were the sparsest because of their distance from Guangdong, where he was based. He, however, assured the reader that the narratives regarding the attack on the viceroy’s office were indeed extensive.54 The narratives nonetheless were not entirely original. A tally of characters divulges that biographies of the ten Fujianese martyrs compiled by Zheng Lie account for two-thirds of the book’s total characters.

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The prefaces to the book written by key figures in revolutionary movements and core members of the Revolutionary Alliance constituted its significance. Sun Yat-sen’s preface, placed at the opening of the compilation, emphasized the role of “our Party” (wu dang) in carrying out the attack in Guangzhou. The prose was florid, as expected of elegiac writing, while sending a clear political message to readers: During the late Qing, our revolutionary party experienced great toils and precipices; relying on our unyielding and unfaltering spirit, we fought against the enemies who harmed the people. We stumbled time and again. Our sacrifices were tragic. Take the April 27, 1911, attack at the viceroy’s office to be the utmost example, our Party’s best people sacrificed their lives. These were such great losses. Nonetheless, in that battle, the blood that we shed for the great cause overflowed and our grand spirit gushed in all directions. [To the point that] nature was transformed in response [literally, “grass and trees became vessels of sorrow, and wind and cloud changed their hue”]. As throughout the nation, the people’s mind has been long suppressed, this [uprising] stirred up their spirit a great deal. The accumulated anger surged like giant waves overflowing the gully. Nothing could restrain them. Less than half a year later, the Wuchang uprising was a success. This military campaign has great significance. Simply speaking, it shook heaven and earth, and reduced ghosts and deities to tears. [The Yellow Flower Hill uprising], like the Wuchang one, is immortal.55 Following Sun’s lead, Zou Lu claimed the Yellow Flower Hill incident to be the launching moment of modern Chinese history: “On the twenty-ninth day of the third month of the Xinhai year [1911], the revolutionary party members attacked the viceroy’s building and failed. . . . In the ninth month of the year of the [Yellow Flower Hill] uprising, the Wuchang revolt took place. Fewer than a hundred days later, the Republic of China was established.”56 With this account, Zou Lu linked the Yellow Flower Hill uprising with the more successful October 1911 uprising of the mutinous New Army in Wuchang, which eventually led to the overthrow of the Qing Empire and the subsequent founding of the republic. By so doing, Zou Lu created a narrative centering on the Yellow Flower Hill uprising—a fight that lasted less than one day with little immediate impact on the provincial government—as the first battle in the revolution against Qing imperial rule. Asserting themselves as founders of the republic, the Guangzhou-based revolutionaries justified their Northern Expedition against the Beiyang militarists.

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Hu Hanmin, who, as the Guangdong provincial military governor, had held a public sacrifice for the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs in 1911,57 also contributed a preface to the book. Hu further validated the deaths of the Yellow Flower Hill participants with quotations from the Lunyu (Analects). He lamented: “No scholar-official of noble intention or man of humaneness would pursue life at the expense of humaneness, and in fact some may be called upon to give up their lives in order to fulfill humaneness [shashen yi chengren].”58 He thus justified the violent attack as a physical manifestation of Confucian virtues. To illustrate the selfless sacrifice of the martyrs, Hu echoed the Mengzi (Book of Mencius): “What I pursue is far more than life itself, so I will take righteousness at the expense of my life [sheshen er quyi].”59 The martyrs were capable of facing a sure death in their fight because they valued spiritual existence over physical existence. They fought not only for the Republican ideal but also for cosmic-level righteousness. Hu Hanmin reasoned that the martyrs of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising were humane and righteous because they disregarded their own lives to rescue the enslaved Han people from the Manchus. Hu also elevated the Three Principles of the People (Sun Yat-sen’s promotion of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people) to the level of Confucian virtues of humaneness (ren) and righteousness (yi), equating Sun Yat-sen’s ideologies with the sages’ principles: The 72 gentlemen upheld the Three Principles of the People. They wanted to overturn the autocratic government of a foreign ethnic group and to rescue our people. Their hearts were the most humane. They did not even a bit consider between wealth and woe. People thought the attack of April 27 to be impossible, and yet the martyrs carried it out. This is called “calmly dying for the great cause.” This is also called “the worthy vehemently march toward death.” I beg to presume that it was the death of the worthy. The remnant of their virtue remains in the human world. Because their bodies have not completely depleted, they did not really die [bu si]. However, the world is aggrieved by the fact that these people who died for society cannot be seen again. In order to show respect for these [martyrs], we must carefully compile their biographies and leave them behind to be models for the world.60 Huanghuagang marked the rise of martyrdom as an act of sacrifice for a righteous cause by a nationalistic revolutionary. Yao Yuping (1882–1974) captures this in his preface: “April 27, 1911, was the day when 72 Yellow Flower Hill martyrs [lieshi] sacrificed their lives for the nation [xunguo]. It was

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also the day when they were martyred [xun] for the Three Principles of the People.”61 These terms became strictly associated with patriotism during the Republican era. Sun Yat-sen’s preface in Huanghuagang serves as an evidence: “This [volume of martyrs’ biographies] is to launch our national history of tremendous struggles that will be transmitted and will never be lost. Otherwise, we could not inherit the will of our revolutionary predecessors [xianlie] and bring it to fruition, and we could only read their stories and lament [our fate].”62 One biographer extolled the martyr Shi Jingwu as one who fought against the notorious Manchu army with “patriotic fervency [zhonglie] and righteous spirit [yiqi] until his body was no longer whole.”63 The compilation solidified the foundation for the Nationalist regime by disseminating the concept of the revolutionary martyr—a mixture of Confucian gentleman and Republican citizen.

Ideal Male Citizens Huanghuagang didactically presented the model of male citizenship. In each individual biography, the protagonist grew up, awakened to the revolutionary cause, and fulfilled his duties to both the family and the nation by securing an heir before abandoning his life. On the one hand, this compilation resonated greatly with middle-class and upper-class youth, because it served as a life manual and spoke to their desires for adventure, independence, companionship, and love. On the other hand, by juxtaposing brotherly and conjugal love with descriptions of violence and militancy, Huanghuagang advocated political action at the cost of human lives. The Yellow Flower Hill martyrs became the youthful ideal of self-sacrifice for generations of Chinese men. The youngest martyr was eighteen and the oldest forty-five, with the majority under thirty years old. Love and marriage, among the most critical issues for youth in early twentieth-century China, featured prominently in Huanghuagang. The martyrs not only enjoyed conjugal bliss but also produced heirs. The biographical narratives also aimed at reconciling the contradiction between Confucian filiality and voluntary sacrifice of life. Lin Juemin’s biographer assured the reader that Lin had fulfilled both his filial duty and his revolutionary duty. After the Yellow Flower Hill uprising failed, Lin was thrown into prison. While in prison, he managed to write two letters, a pithy, apologetic one to his adoptive father, and a lengthy, loving one to his wife.64 Lin’s wife gave birth to a daughter and was pregnant with another child at the time that Lin joined the Revolutionary Alliance. A few months after his death, Mrs. Lin gave birth to a son, thus saving the family lineage from extinction.

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Female loyalty as a companion to male martyrdom was another important component of the Confucian family in the Republican age. The martyr Rao Fuyan (1880–1911) married a fine-looking Miss Wen Huiyu in December 1908. He did not settle down after his marriage but joined revolutionary movements the following year. He was captured during the Yellow Flower Hill uprising and tortured for days before being executed in April. The woeful Mrs. Rao, née Wen, vowed to “follow her husband in death” as the principle of traditional chaste widowhood dictated, but their friends pleaded with her not to. Ill with depression, Mrs. Rao began to vomit blood and died months later. Fortunately, the family’s heir, Rao Lanfang, who was pursuing his studies in Japan, continued the lineage. Such motifs of romantic love, filial piety, virtue, and chastity appeared throughout Huanghuagang, turning the violent uprising into a series of romantic tales befitting the realm of popular literature and effectively seducing young men to join the political cause.65 Huanghuagang also celebrated friendship that centered around mutual understanding and affinity. Friendship was considered potentially subversive in the Confucian worldview, as it was not of service to the family and the state. Male bonding served as the foundation of secret societies, political parties, and revolutionary activities. During the late Qing era, emperors, who had been warned about the danger of political factions in the late Ming court, frequently suspected and persecuted circles of friends bound by a common purpose.66 At the same time, sharing good intent among friends could improve morality and thus be of utility.67 Such terms as zhiji (the bosom friend that knows me well), tongzhi (common high purpose), and tongxin (shared belief ) appeared multiple times throughout the compilation. Friendship was about understanding one’s true nature, as illustrated in the case of Chen Wenbao. According to his biography, Chen was a merchant doing business in the waters of Southeast Asia. Being an itinerant merchant, he was an object of scorn in Confucian society. Because of his many idiosyncrasies, he was not well liked among his own people, either. Chen embodied the impetuous, uninhibited, generous, and lovable hero type in popular culture.68 Enjoying eating and drinking, Chen often took the boat down the Han River in Guangdong and stopped at various places to fill up on food and alcohol until completely satiated. His gluttony was well known in the area. His boisterous laughs frequently “shook the roof tiles.” Yet Chen Wenbao’s biggest offense was that, though not yet thirty years old, he already grew a luxuriant beard. His wife hated it because in their town, no one younger than fifty years old grew his beard. The wife could not bear this violation of the village custom. He then told her, “I hate your hair bun. You hate my beard. If you change your hairstyle, I will cut off my

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beard.” His wife had no other choice but to comply. Yet, after cutting her hair, she was unable to bear the reproaches from other village women. She gave in to pressure and grew back her hair bun. Seeing her bun, Chen also grew back his beard. Finally, his wife cut her hair off and kept it that way. Chen succeeded in changing his wife’s attachment to her old hairstyle. He shaved off his beard to meet his part of the bargain. Women from the city began to change their hairstyle as well.69 This anecdote about Chen Wenbao’s conjugal frivolity does not seem to contribute to the portrayal of him as an ardent revolutionary and selfless martyr. Nevertheless, Zou Lu, Chen’s biographer, emphasized that even though the women in their town were “stupid and crude,” Chen was able to change their hairstyle, and thus their view of tradition. It was not a small task. Zou Lu added a long remark at the end of Chen’s biography on the unusual personality of his fellow villager and comrade: The martyr and I were from the same village. The villagers detested his “ardent attitude” [kuang]. I was the only one who cherished his honesty and goodness. He also respected me. When he joined the Revolutionary Alliance, he had mutual love for all comrades. But he was still close to me the most. If he thought that something was possible, he would act upon it. He surpassed me with each day passing. Each time he heard about [a task], he would tread outside even in inclement weathers to do it. He was trustworthy and free from jealousy. He only followed what he believed, and he acted upon what he believed. He cared for neither self-destruction nor magnificence, neither fame nor disgrace. It was his innate nature. He saw death as a natural return. He died for his ideology. Confucius says, “The ardent [kuang] one will charge forward.”70 The martyr had that in him.71 These eccentricities of Chen Wenbao epitomized the twentieth-century transgressions. Revolutionary activities broke away from normative behaviors of the Confucian order. Zou Lu praised Chen Wenbao for his fervent passion instead of the moderation or propriety characteristic of a traditional scholar. Chen lived freely without fear of societal pressure. He treated his wife as an equal partner by bargaining with her rather than ordering her to comply with his will. Chen even cared more about his comrades than his relatives. In his narrative, Zou Lu was able to look beyond Chen’s surface to understand his true nature. To the common villagers, Chen Wenbao was a gluttonous and sacrilegious merchant. To the revolutionaries, Chen was a man of action and of principle. The ideal male citizen was inseparable from the new discourse of militancy and violence. In the late Qing era, violence was no longer the prerogative

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Figure 1.1.

Martyr Chen Wenbao. From Zou Lu, ed., Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (n.p., 1922).

of the state. Military schools and military education sprouted up, especially after the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895. In the 1900s, primary-school textbooks portrayed children in military-inspired uniforms and playing mock battles.72 As the soldierly/martial identity became desirable, educated young men were enticed into the military career. Martyr Song Yulin reportedly said:

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“Real men should die wrapped in horse hide. They should not follow those bookworms who only study to join the imperial court.”73 The commentator on Song’s biography emphasized: “Military men’s nature is to advance, not to retreat.”74 The ideal men were expected to meet gruesome deaths for denouncing the enemy and refusing to surrender. These martyrs’ biographies/life manuals advocated violence as both means and end. Such glorification of death signified a culture of violence and martiality in the early decades of the twentieth century. Many early revolutionaries made explosives and smuggled weapons to assassinate or kidnap government officials. In the words of the revolutionaries’ biographers, the violence imposed on them by the Manchus since the seventeenth century and by Westerners since the nineteenth century justified their plans of terror. Although their plans were often shoddily executed, their novel, terror-causing acts received popular attention. In Huanghuagang, Yu Peilun’s (1886–1911) biographer remarked that Yu often experimented on explosives so intensely that he forgot to eat and sleep. Although he was careful, he was once knocked unconscious by an explosion. When he came to, his body was covered with blood. Fearing that the noise would bring government spies to his hideout, he fled the scene.75 In another episode, Yu Peilun, together with Wang Jingwei (1883–1944) and Huang Fusheng (1883–1948), planted a bomb under a bridge. However, on the bridge gathered a lot of people and dogs. The dogs started barking at the commotion under the bridge, causing the team to withdraw. The planted bomb did not explode. But the locals allegedly told one another, “Luckily it did not explode. Otherwise, everything within twenty li [about seven miles] would have been destroyed.”76 The account portrayed the locals marveling at rather than condemning such acts of potential destruction. The wholesomeness of the martyrs’ characters validated their acts of violence. They were first and foremost Confucian scholars, well versed in the classic literature and poetry. They were also good sons, husbands, and fathers. In Lin Yimin’s biography, he was a filial son who mourned his mother long after her death. Lin revered his father and respected his elder brothers. His filial piety and brotherly love were well known. Lin also liked to drink. When he drank, he would beat his head and cry about his late mother, expressing his deep grief.77 Before the suicidal attack, Yu Peilun told his brother, Yu Peidi, “I will take the duty of self-sacrificing. You will take the duty of carrying on the lineage.”78 The revolutionary made sure that his death would not become the most unfilial act of discontinuing the lineage. He derived agency from admiration for both nationalistic martyrdom and filial piety. China’s history has been as violent as, if not more than, those of other countries.79 Mark Lewis recognizes the prominent role of “sanctioned

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violence” as an element of the political order, a creator of social groups, a marker of significance, and a component in myth making.80 Barend J. ter Haar indicates that the elites moved away from violence as a means of defining their status while approving it as a way of controlling lower social classes such as servants, tenants, and dependent family members, and of punishing criminals, rebels and other deviants.81 Susan Mann characterizes violence as a crucial element in the “male bond” in late imperial China.82 All three abovementioned elements of violence in Chinese society can be seen in Huanghuagang. Violence was fundamental to the martyrs, who made pacts of brotherhood to dole out deadly punishment to the Manchu villains. The act of valor in Huanghuagang was a political awakening, as often illustrated by the final words of the martyrs. The biographies did not present the Yellow Flower Hill uprising as a battle between Han revolutionaries and Manchu soldiers. Rather, the compilation offered a series of theatrical confrontations between a lone hero and a multitude of enemy troops. Huanghuagang successfully drew on the tropes of benevolence, righteousness, filiality, and brotherhood prevalent in historical novels such as the Sanguo yanyi (Romance of the Three Kingdoms) from the fourteenth century. For many of the Nationalist leaders, “the norms governing the world of fiction were also the ones governing the domain of reality,” as suggested by Wenhsin Yeh.83 It is thus unsurprising to encounter fictional elements in Huanghuagang. During each participant’s confrontation with the enemy, he was permitted an audience, a stage, and ample time to expound on his noble thought and righteous act. And yet, each hero also occupied a space of moral ambiguity that allowed him to do violence to others. Such framing implicitly asked the audience, and by extension, the citizenry, to take on the responsibility of resisting the enemy, even if the outcome was their deaths. This demand became explicit during the War of Resistance.

A Unifying Vision of Martyrdom Huanghuagang sought to unify oppositional factions within the Nationalist Party and within southern China. Zou Lu included a preface by Wang Jingwei, who allotted more words to his own revolutionary credentials than to memories of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs. Using a colloquial style unlike that of other preface contributors, Wang Jingwei began the narrative with his plan to assassinate a Manchu prince in Beijing in 1909. He was “pouring his heart and mind into planning a revolution in Beijing.” Because of such preoccupation, “as for other matters, [he] did not try to find out. There was no opportunity to catch wind of the uprising anyway.”84 Wang called

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attention to the fact that he had been jailed until November 1911 for plotting to kill Prince Regent Zaifeng (1883–1951). Pointing out that quite a few revolutions were going on at the same time all over China, Wang further undermined the temporal and spatial significance of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising. Wang then discussed how he first came to know about the uprising through a few pages of newspapers surreptitiously obtained in prison. In Wang’s words, the uprising was a minor event: Roughly two, three months later, one day, a warden surnamed Liu came to watch over us. This warden normally liked to read newspapers. When he was rotated to guard us, he always asked all sorts of questions. Talking about that day, he quietly told us, “Hey, your people again revolted in Guangzhou. They killed quite a few guys!” I heard that and became anxious. Repeatedly, I asked him to give me one or two pages of a Beijing newspaper. Even though the prison regulations did not allow that, I pressed him into lending me the newspapers. Thereupon I learned that Yu Yunji [Yu Peilun] had just died during this campaign. And then there were Lin Shishuang [1887–1911] and Li Wenfu [1891–1911], both of whom were in my group of good friends. They also perished. I became broken-hearted. However, I cannot say that I know at all about the Guangzhou April 27 event from the beginning to end. I saw just a few newspaper pages of material, which failed to convey the myriad details of the uprising. Only after October 10 did I emerge from prison and bump into a group of friends. We discussed the righteous uprising in Guangdong on April 27. Because they personally participated in this event, in the future if you want to record this battle, naturally you should go and ask them. It is not worthwhile to ask me to participate.85 In his narrative, Wang was thrown into prison and lost track of what happened outside the walls, which justified why he uttered nothing about the Yellow Flower Hill heroic deaths. He then acquired a belated knowledge of these two uprisings when he discussed them with some friends in late 1911. By mentioning that he had to find out the details through some friends, Wang effectively revealed the political insignificance of the April 27, 1911, uprising, which neither affected the Qing government nor brought forth the republic. The uprising took place outside the temporal and spatial sphere of the vast majority of Chinese people. Its obscurity in the immediate aftermath was the ultimate proof of its inconsequentiality. It was the Nationalist Party that reconstructed the Yellow Flower Hill uprising in later narratives. In contrast, Wang received a lot of publicity for his eloquence during his trial in Beijing and when he emerged from prison, he was hailed as a national hero.86

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In spite of Wang’s agenda, Zou Lu included his preface in the commemorative volume, turning the martyrs’ biographies into a tool of reconciliation within the Nationalist Party. Wang did lament in his preface: “When I read the compilation, my heart felt extreme sorrow, as well as extreme shame. It is because my teachers and friends of ten years seemed to appear before me one by one. Initially I was determined to die with them. When I was thrown into prison, they shed countless tears for me. Yet now they already died before I do.”87 With personal fame and political status in the party, Wang endorsed the uprising. Furthermore, Wang’s account seemed to reveal how the news of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising in the south, though inconsequential to the Qing authority, resonated all the way to the capital in the north. Despite the fact that the Seventy-Two Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb was first built to promote a regional, rather than national, vision of China, Huanghuagang contains many photographs of the site. The complex took form in the 1910s thanks to the contribution of Nationalist Party members and Republican supporters in southern China. In the fall of 1918, Fang Shengtao (1885–1934), a native of Fujian, an army general in Yunnan, and a member of the Revolutionary Alliance, started to construct the tomb for the uprising martyrs, one of whom was his brother Fang Shengtong (1886– 1911).88 Additionally, Lin Sen, chairman of the Guangdong Provincial Parliament, raised money to build a visiting pavilion with sponsorship from overseas Revolutionary Alliance members. Lin set up the martyrs’ tablets, on which he inscribed the names of those who had been identified. Fang Shengtao’s and Lin Sen’s commemorative projects took two years to complete.89 After the monument was built, a group of 56 previously unnamed martyrs was enshrined. In 1922, participants in the uprising uncovered another 16 martyrs, bringing the total number of martyrs to 144.90 Uprising participants who died of illness were also granted burial in the compound. The provincial government forbade burials of other heroic figures in the vicinity of the Yellow Flower Hill sacred ground. Any existing burial had to be removed within three months of the deceased’s family members being notified.91 Nonetheless, martyrs of other political movements were buried there in later decades. In the early 1920s, Lin Sen and Chen Jiongming, the incumbent governor of Guangdong, collected funds from overseas Chinese to add an arch, a pavilion, and a stele to the tomb. Lin and Chen wanted the Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb to be a place of “grandiose structures for Chinese and foreigners alike to admire when they visit Guangdong.”92 In December 1921, Chen expressed concern that the presence of fruit trees grown in the area undermined the grandeur and solemnity of the Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’

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Tomb. Lin suggested purchasing the farmland and replacing the fruit trees with evergreen ones, such as conifers, to preserve a formal atmosphere for visitors. Conifers, symbolizing longevity and virtue, constituted the Chinese necrobotany in the same way as rugged-trunk yew trees did in European churchyards.93 Chen agreed with the plan to replant the landscape and suggested investigating fair prices before offering to purchase the land. Lin and Chen could not reach an agreement with the landowners, however, because both the currencies and the exchange rate had changed drastically from the late Qing to the Republican periods.94 Although the attempt to create the right milieu for the memorial was fruitless, this episode demonstrates that Chen’s and Lin’s vision was to promote the commemorative park as a provincial treasure and to promote the martyrs as part of Guangdong’s history, not of China’s. Huanghuagang did not include a preface from Chen Jiongming or Lin Sen, but it included official exchanges between the two and highlighted their role in constructing the memorial. Chen was credited for his contribution to the physical embodiment of Republican martyrdom. Soon after the publication of Huanghuagang, Chen Jiongming became Sun Yat-sen’s mortal enemy, ever condemned as a “traitor” (ni) by the Nationalist government. In the 1910s, political leaders in Guangdong organized a large public sacrifice at the Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb on the lunar anniversary of the uprising.95 During the 1920s and 1930s, the Guangdong leadership renovated the tomb multiple times, adding new decorative structures and expanding the gravesite into an impressive site. In 1935, the entire memorial complex was declared a public park; the cluster of burials were transformed into “a revolutionary monument of contemporary relevance.”96 The photographs printed in Huanghuagang reveal a magnificent structure built with marble, bricks, and stone, and adorned with eclectic elements, all of which marked a departure from the features of traditional shrines. On the top of a brick wall was the Statue of Liberty holding a book and a mallet, in honor of those who fought for Han Chinese people’s freedom from the Manchus. Scattered through the complex were incense burner columns with Buddhist swastikas, iron-cast skulls as pillar capitals, and the Nationalist Party blue-sky-white-sun emblem. These features, except for the skulls, remain at the time of this book’s writing. In 1922, Huanghuagang was printed and distributed among Sun Yat-sen’s supporters as a form of commemoration and as a historical narrative privileging the role of the Nationalist Party. In 1928, the visions of revolutionary martyrdom and ideal male citizenship of Huanghuagang became institutionalized by the Nationalist government. Families of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs could seek compensation through the national government and

Figure 1.2. Front view of the Seventy-Two Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb. From Wang Xiaoting, “Guangzhou Huanghuagang qishier lieshi zhi mu” [Guangzhou Yellow Flower Hill Seventy-Two Martyrs’ Tomb], Liangyou [The Young Companion], no. 36, 1929, 10.

Figure 1.3. Iron skulls as pillar capitals along the pathway to the Seventy-Two Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb. From Zou Lu, ed., Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (n.p., 1922).

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the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee (Zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui), based on the March 29, 1911, Martyr’s Family Compensation Regulations.97 At the same time, the Guangdong provincial government set up the Revolutionary Commemoration Committee (Geming jinian hui) and requested other provinces by way of the national government to investigate families of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs living in their jurisdiction.98 The investigation yielded thirty-nine family members in Guangdong and six in Guangxi. The Revolutionary Commemoration Committee also received reports on twenty-eight martyrs’ relatives from Jiangsu, Henan, Jiangxi, Anhui, Hebei, and Fujian.99 After the initial search to identify those who died during the uprising and the subsequent executions, provincial authorities expanded the search for martyrs who escaped punishment from the Qing government. In 1931, the Fujian provincial government requested compensation for families of twenty-seven Yellow Flower Hill martyrs and thirty-five participants who fled to Fujian after the failed uprising and died from illness and injuries.100 The national government put the Central Executive Committee in charge of the commemoration.101 The anniversary of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising indeed became a national event. In 1929, Huishan County in Jiangsu converted its Qing-era Manifest Loyalty Shrine to a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine and organized a spring sacrifice to revolutionary predecessors on April 27, the solar anniversary of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising.102 By holding the spring sacrifice at the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine on the uprising anniversary, the county government aligned its commemorative moments with traditional temporality. The ceremony in Huishan County was modern, as attendants assumed solemnity and bowed three times while facing the national flags, party flags, and Sun Yat-sen’s portrait. The master of ceremonies recited Sun’s will, which was known as Zongli yishu (Director’s last testament).103 Afterward, flowers were presented, and the attendants faced the martyrs’ spirit tablets and bowed three times. After a few speeches and elegies, the ceremony concluded. Symbolically, flower wreaths replaced food as offerings.104 Bowing replaced prostration. At the public sacrifice, the Huishan County head delivered a eulogy, lamenting the deaths of the revolutionary predecessors. He emphasized how their plans to revolt were divulged and they suffered unjust punishment. They died in battle before their will could be realized. Nonetheless, he praised how their fearlessness when facing death “inspired respect and admiration.” As “benefactors of the people should be commemorated,” offering sacrifices to Republican martyrs was an obligation. The county head proclaimed that these revolutionary predecessors “contributed to the party, contributed to the nation, and eliminated suffering for the whole race.” He even posed a

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rhetorical question: “As they created inexhaustible happiness, would they not deserve receiving sacrificial rites for a thousand years?”105 The county head elevated the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs to a plane of eminence above that of traditional deities. The anniversary of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising was observed as a national holiday in major municipalities during the Nanjing decade. In 1933 in Nanjing, entertainment centers, government offices, and public organizations were closed for the day. In Shanghai, only cinemas and amusement centers in the Chinese-controlled area observed the holiday, whereas government offices remained open. The Nationalist Party held a memorial service attended by representatives of government offices at its headquarters. In Guangzhou, “tens of thousands of pilgrims, including many officials and students,” reportedly flocked to the site of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising to pay respect to the martyrs.106 In 1937, Lin Sen led the commemoration with “solemnity and military pomp” in Guangzhou. About 800 government officials, including the highest-ranking ones, attended a public service at the Nationalist Party’s headquarters in Nanjing. The septuagenarian Zou Lu presided over the ceremony, emphasizing how spiritual strength overcame the lack of resources and led to the successful Republican Revolution. In Shanghai, it was reported that over four hundred people from all walks of life attended the memorial service. The Beiping municipal government mandated public mourning on March 29 by shutting down amusement resorts and flying the national and party flags at half-mast.107 The Communists also adopted the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs into their political repertoire. A 1926 article from the Gongren zi lu (Workers’ Road), published by the Hong Kong–Canton Strike Committee of the All-China Labor Federation, recast the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs as champions of freedom (ziyou) and equality (pingdeng) and as fighters against the imperialist “running-dog” (zou gou, “lackey”) Manchus.108 The author claimed that the seventy-two martyrs’ task of carrying out the “national revolution had yet to be completed and the torch had been passed to the next generation of revolutionaries.”109 As such, the “downtrodden” workers and peasants should rise up and lead “the oppressed masses of all classes” to the next step of the revolution.110 The article portrayed workers as having inherited the self-sacrificing spirit of the seventy-two Yellow Flower Hill martyrs and thus becoming the chosen political force to further the revolutionary enterprise. The Yellow Flower Hill martyrs also became part of the school curriculum. Various abridged and illustrated narratives of the uprising were printed to use as textbooks throughout the 1930s and 1940s.111 These publications

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shared a common goal: to instill children and students with a sense of respect for these heroic sacrifices and to urge them to emulate such martyrs’ conduct. Physical death was the beginning of posthumous identities being mobilized, constructed, and featured time and again. The Nanjing Provisional Government and the Beiyang regime promptly turned executed mutineers of the 1911 Revolution into esteemed founders of the new republic. Members of Sun Yat-sen’s political coalition employed the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs to introduce narratives of martyrdom that emphasized the ideological and historical role of the Revolutionary Alliance and the Nationalist Party. By promoting the Yellow Flower Hill uprising on a national scale over the Wuchang one, the Nationalists sought to displace regional power holders such as Chen Jiongming and Beiyang leaders such as Yuan Shikai from the history of the modern Chinese state. The pictures in Huanghuagang show the martyrs in smart Japanese school uniforms and Western trench coats. Unlike the photographs of the Wuchang Uprising martyrs taken before their execution, the portraits of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs radiate life, imparting as much persuasion as the description of their youth. The martyrs’ propensity for violence in the revolt was also justified through the exaltation of their filial piety and loyalty. The martyrs were depicted as agent of virtuous violence, killing the victims so as to revive the proper world order.112 The tales of the youthful martyrs were materialized by the physical presence of a grand commemorative site in Guangzhou and celebrated throughout China. The Nationalist Party retroactively rewrote martyrs into the first necrocitizens of the modern Chinese nation. Their posthumous existence—as ideal men who traded their precious lives for a higher cause—laid the groundwork for the construction of the Nationalist enterprise. Huanghuagang also reveals how Sun’s supporters in the late 1910s and early 1920s sanctioned partisan violence. As long as one belonged to the Revolutionary Alliance and the Nationalist Party, one’s enactment of violence against others was justifiable. When the Nationalist government established the capital in Nanjing, the Nationalists began to favor a different form of martyrdom embodied by party members and servicemen who were wholly dedicated to securing the institutions of the nation-state. Within a few decades, civilian activist-martyrs with a propensity for anti-establishment violence had to share the national altar with new crops of martyrs, yet the former were never uprooted from the ideological grounds of the Nationalist regime.

Ch ap ter 2

Defining the Necrocitizenry

In November 1927, Wang Shijie (1891–1981), the head of the Bureau of Legal Affairs (Fazhi ju) and one of the most prominent legal specialists in Republican China, filed a strongly worded memorandum.1 Wang adamantly opposed the order from the national government to create a new system of commending and compensating citizens on the grounds that such a system would be incompatible with modern republicanism.2 Wang’s interest in and knowledge of Western laws were apparent in many of his writings.3 He envisioned China as an egalitarian republic, a vision that many Nationalist leaders did not share. Wang critiqued many aspects of the Chinese state’s legal system, especially when he compared them with laws in contemporaneous Western democracies. He promoted individual rights vis-à-vis the state and tried to curb the authoritarian tendencies of the government.4 In 1927, Wang was in charge of drafting and checking regulations for accuracy and clarity. Given that the Executive Yuan dominated all other branches of the government, the Bureau of Legal Affairs under the Legislative Yuan did not have much power in lawmaking. With little political sway, Wang relied on his legal expertise to convince the upper echelon of the Nationalist government to heed his counsel. Deliberations among high-ranking Nationalist officials such as Wang Shijie shed light on the institutionalization of martyrdom during the Nanjing decade. After nominally unifying China, the Nationalist government 50

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granted national martyrdom to the Yellow Flower Hill uprising participants and other assassins and mutineers who plotted the fall of the Qing Empire. At the same time, these revolutionary predecessors and the Republican revolution diminished in significance. A new crop of leaders, who did not participate in the 1911 uprisings, became the decisionmakers in the new capital of Nanjing. Military leaders like Chiang Kai-shek rose in prominence. As time progressed, the party that created the Chinese nation-state could not be sustained by the legacy of its founding members and of the revolutionary moments of decades prior; it hence opened the membership of the nation to other interest groups and incorporated new historical developments. A new state took shape in the early 1930s. The success of the Northern Expedition led to the Nanjing government’s vision of disciplinary and martial loyalty to the state. The looming threat of the Japanese encroachment in northern China added to the urgent need to adopt new criteria of martyrdom— creating a more inclusive necrocitizenship. New measures for martyr enshrinement, public cemeteries for the military dead, and compensation for the wounded and grieving families were proposed and approved in 1936 after Chiang Kai-shek gained control of the Executive Yuan. The former premier of the Executive Yuan, Wang Jingwei, resigned after being shot by an assassin. The fallen National Revolutionary Army soldiers vied for martyrdom previously exclusive to the Revolutionary Alliance and Nationalist Party members. The spirits of these martyrs were enshrined in government-mandated county Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. Evidence of what Emilio Gentile calls the “sacralization of politics,” these shrines were instrumental in spreading the nationalist religiosity—the beliefs and rituals for the national dead promoted by the nation-state.5 By connecting traditional practices of feeding the spirits with granting transcendental status to the dead as national ancestors, such religiosity was crucial to the integration and reparation of conflict-stricken communities in Republican China. As the state assumed religious dimension in facilitating collective mourning, it strengthened the sense of communal belonging among the living.

A Republic of Virtues In the particular communication on November 1927, Wang Shijie responded to an order from the Nationalist Party’s Standing Committee asking his office to “follow the Party’s outlook and deliberate on the current situation to draft a new commendation law.”6 The initiative came from the desk of Niu Yongjian (1870–1965), the head of Jiangsu Province’s Department of Civil Affairs and

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a member of the Nationalist Party’s Standing Committee. Niu stated that county governments had been requesting a new commendation law. He added that new commendation standards would “encourage people in the country to commit all kinds of good deeds.”7 Although agreeing with Niu Yongjian’s promotion of good citizenship through law, Wang Shijie maintained that the honors and rewards granted by previous governments had been doing more harm than good to the new republic. Wang pointed out that the number of petitions from the populace asking for commendation and compensation was increasing, and that the law of the republic ( gonghe guojia) so far had merely emulated (chengxi) that of the overthrown monarchical system ( junzhu zhidu). When Sun Yat-sen established the republic, medals were awarded to the worthy. However, Yuan Shikai came to power, restored monarchical rule, and used the Commendation Regulations to “beguile people’s hearts” (longluo renxin). The Republican commendation law thus lost its worth. Wang Shijie urged the Nanjing government to abandon the imperial commendation metrics and create new Republican standards. A lightly revised version of Wang’s petition was also printed in the Minguo ribao (Republican Daily).8 Wang acknowledged that commendation was crucial to the promotion of morality and nobility in thought and action among the general citizenry: Commendations laws have almost no impact on the morality and merit of those who already possess noble thoughts. These people probably spurn such effects as merit badges, certificates, medals, and medallions, avoiding them as if they were the plague. Their disdain implicitly diminished the sanctity of the national legal system. As for those with outmoded thinking and deficient intellect, a commendation system indeed can have considerable impact [on their thoughts], but the impact depends on which types of virtue and meritorious acts are commended.9 In addition, awarding people with distinctions during the imperial era had been a flawed tradition that was only useful to temporarily win some people over: Our nation has hitherto used precious objects as a tool to incentivize the hierarchy of human relationships. Many forms of conferring noble honors have existed for this purpose. In the Qing dynasty, besides the emperor’s conferring titles on people, there were citations, certificates, medals, enfeoffment, awarding official positions to officials’ relatives, and so on. These types of honors conferred on the people

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were sufficient both to foster their sense of honor and hierarchy, in turn consolidating the foundation of the monarchical system, and to sufficiently curry the people’s favor so as to win them over.10 Arguing that the new honor and reward system established by the imperial government failed to change people’s mindset, Wang advocated education instead. Education, he argued, would help people develop rationality and a sense of duty. Wang envisioned that instead of treating good behaviors as praiseworthy rarities, disciplining people’s everyday behaviors would make good acts common occurrences: If the current national law were based on the old-styled loyalty [zhong], filial piety [xiao], chastity [jie], and righteousness [yi], the commendation system might not be enough to encourage the so-called ignorant people. Even if the nation promoted new forms of morality and merit, the establishment of new commendation standards would not necessarily have any effect on these people. Therefore, a modern nation seeking to promote social morality must emphasize civic and civil education instead.11 Wang maintained that titles and honors violated the principles of republican states. Honors, if they existed, should be limited to academic accomplishments only: In Republican states, the system of nobility fundamentally does not exist. Among the newly established nations, such as postwar Germany, their constitutions even clearly specify that except for academic achievements, such nations shall confer no other honors. Furthermore, the constitutions of nations like Switzerland forbid their citizens from accepting medals and honors from other nations. Evidently, modern Republican states have already changed from upholding glory to upholding the ordinary.12 The legal expert drove his point home one more time: When our nation was first established, the authorities bestowed honors on people to capture their hearts. Medals of honor and plaques were handed out every day. At the time, even revolutionary party members, one after another, acquired such vanity, acting just like the nouveau riche. Since then, everyone from minor and major warlords to shameless politicians and corrupt officials were all decorated with honorary awards, to the point that what the state called honors became what society called humiliation.13

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Wang added that because the public had been disgusted with honorary awards for a long time, it would be no use to revive them. Even worse, reviving the mistrusted honor system would discredit the new government under the Nationalist Party. Wang ended each of his points with the sentence: “In line with this trend of the state legislation, my office realizes that it is inappropriate to set up the commendation regulations.” He, however, acknowledged that there should be “material compensation for services rendered” (chouyong) by contributors to the party-state, especially when the Republican revolution was at its “violent stage.”14 Wang offered two concrete proposals. Instead of giving intangible honors and rewards, the government should use one fixed form of material compensation. Those who devoted their lives to the revolution, regardless of their party or national membership or official capacity, should without exception be given pensions from the state. Servicemembers who were discharged from the military should also receive pensions pursuant to the regulations. Military officers and civilian officials who contracted illness or died from illness while on official duty should receive stipends according to the Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations and the Government Official Stipend Regulations, respectively. Party members should be compensated according to the Party Member Compensation Regulations. Wang argued that “flat-rate” stipends “would be sufficient to motivate people to sacrifice lives for the nation, rendering various honorary rewards unnecessary.”15 Wang’s opinion was, however, disregarded. Despite his adamant objections, Wang Shijie eventually had to participate in the creation of a new commendation law based on traditional virtues. In August 1928, the minister of the interior, Xue Dubi (1892–1973), urged the national government to promulgate a new commendation law.16 Xue maintained that he had received various petitions from provincial governments requesting to commend cases of filial piety. Xue argued that the government not only had legal standing to punish the evildoers (cheng e zhi fa) but also legal standing to commend those who did good acts. He added: “Having only punishment without reward is insufficient to initiate and promote the people’s favorable perception of the authority. Besides, rewarding those with loyalty and filial piety serves as the mean to rectify people’s minds, making them revere honesty and righteousness.”17 Xue argued that although the award and commendation system might have had unexpected effects, one should not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Countering Wang Shijie’s proposal, Xue argued that “loyal [zhong], filial [xiao], humane [ren], compassionate [ai], trustworthy [xin], righteous [yi], harmonious [he] and

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fair [ping]” were the virtues (meide) that Sun Yat-sen had crafted as part of the Nationalist ideology, and thus should be promoted. Evoking Sun Yat-sen, the newly proclaimed father of the nation, was a sure way to win an argument in 1928.18 Unlike Wang Shijie, Xue Dubi believed that the Nationalist government could learn from the Beiyang government’s way of commending civilians with moral behaviors. The 1914 Commendation Regulations specified nine categories for honors. The first four emphasized traditional virtues, such as filiality, chastity, righteousness, and virtue. The last five focused on actions: establishing public charity causes, manufacturing farm instruments, originating ideas in academic and artistic fields, promoting laudable customs and behaviors, and committing other deeds worthy of honor.19 The June 1914 Commendation Regulation Implementation Rules provided clarifications. “Filiality” was limited to direct lineal descendants. “Chastity” applied to women who began preserving their chastity before the age of thirty and remained chaste beyond fifty years of age. “Chastity” also applied to widows who died before age fifty but who had remained chaste for at least ten years. Furthermore, “chastity” included martyred young girls and mature women who committed suicide to avoid rape, or out of shame and outrage, or after their husbands’ deaths. “Chastity” could also be pertinent to other cases of chaste virgins and widows who died before having met the requirements. “Righteousness” described fraternal love and the actions of virtuous masters, faithful servants, and others. “Virtue” referred to elders’ behaviors that served as models for people in the village.20 Two revised versions of the rules with minor changes were promulgated in 1917 and 1923.21 The Beiyang government continued emphasizing traditional virtues as the basis for commendable behaviors, and the Nationalist government adopted these standards to measure its citizenry and necrocitizenry alike. In September 1928, Xue Dubi sent a memorandum complaining that his office was still unable to address existing requests for commendation because the central government had not approved any regulations. Xue suggested retaining five categories of commendable behaviors prescribed in the 1917 Commendation Regulations with slight modifications. Thus, earnest and unsullied filial conduct, outstanding righteous conduct, devotion to the public good, contributions to scholarship, and excellent virtue and righteous conduct became the standards for commendations for “citizens of the Republic of China.”22 As the national government green-lit the proposal, Xue Dubi in October 1928 assembled Wang Shijie and three members of the Supervisory

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Committee (Shencha weiyuanhui), Song Yuanyuan (1882–1961), Zhang Zhijiang (1882–1969), and Niu Yongjian, to draft a new commendation regulation.23 The national government also forwarded Xue’s proposal to the Ministry of Military Administration, which replied that it had no precedent reference to employ, and thus it would be entirely up to the Ministry of the Interior to draft the new regulations.24 The 1928 Draft Commendation Regulations hence contained no special clause about servicemen. Moral conduct of extraordinary quality, devotion to the public good, contribution to scholarship, and contribution to national construction were the four categories for commendation in the 1928 draft regulations. The formally promulgated Commendation Regulations in 1931, however, contained only the first two categories. In addition, article 2 of the 1931 Commendation Regulations specified that “moral conduct of exceptional quality” include being “loyal, filial, humane, compassion, trustworthy, righteous, harmonious, and fair,” which were “sufficient to preserve innate morality.” “Devotion to the public good” included outstanding achievements in and substantial contributions to educational or charity facilities.25 Exceptional moral acts were equated with the sacrifice of lives, as seen in the case below. Hu Weigong and his 67-year-old wife, Mrs. Hu, née Ning, along with his two older brothers, eldest son, and two daughters, were among the forty victims of a massacre in Ningdu County, Jiangxi Province in March 1930. The sexagenarian Hu Weigong began in 1928 to organize a local militia to fend off the Communists under Mao Zedong (1893–1976) and Zhu De (1886–1976), who were “causing havoc” in the region. In 1929 and 1930, the Communists intensified their activities in Ningdu County, trying to “mislead the people.” Hu led the village self-defense corps to stop the Communists from entering the area. In 1937, the Nationalist government awarded the Hu couple commemorative tablets for their “moral behaviors of extraordinary quality” according to article 1, clause 1 of the 1931 Commendation Regulations. Hu Weigong was “loyal and unyielding” and died a righteous death while defending the village. The government honored Mrs. Hu for teaching her sons to be loyal and sacrificing her life for the nation. She refused to flee and lead the life of a refugee. According to the county head’s report, after the village defense failed, Mrs. Hu committed suicide by jumping into a gully. The Hus were not viewed as victims of conflict, but as defenders of the nation whose behaviors were “sufficient to serve as examples for the populace.”26 The Chinese modern state emphasized exemplars with moral constancy that transcended mortality. The new Commendation Regulations honored those who contributed not only to the state but also to the general moral wellbeing of the community.27

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The virtuocratic structure thus was a vital component of the Nationalist state, which, like its imperial predecessor and Communist successor, used rewards and honors to profess its legitimacy.28 As Mark Elvin characterizes the imperial award system, “To the extent that the state is able to confer prestige on some of its subjects and, by implication, to withhold it from others, it has a powerful means of influencing social and political behavior. Conversely, it probably draws some of its own legitimacy from its association, through a system of such awards, with persons popularly regarded as of exemplary character.”29 In China, awards were given for normative and normal behaviors conducted under difficult circumstances. Honors were thisworldly and potentially open to a large number, in contrast with Catholic canonization, and awards were granted to “certain kinds of passive disobedience and protest,” according to Elvin.30 Furthermore, Tobie Meyer-Fong argues that conferring honors on a recognized group of the dead articulates “an imagined (and changing) relationship between the state and its [living] subjects.”31 The Nationalist government enshrined martyrs for their virtuous behaviors, with their sacrifice of life being considered the utmost expression of virtue. Bereaved family members were also expected to behave morally if they sought to receive death benefits. The 1927–1928 legal debate on virtue set the foundation for how the Nationalist state selected not only its model citizens but also its worthy dead. Parallel to the development and issue of these commendation regulations applicable to the general public, the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek also issued a series of compensation regulations for the three pillars of the party-state: party members, military servicemen, and government officials. The new commendation and compensation standards, when applied to the dead, created a necrocitizenry—the population posthumously recognized by the state and incorporated into the nation as national ancestors and exemplary members.

Searching for the Revolutionary Dead After the Nationalist government’s establishment in Guangzhou in 1925, it promptly drafted and promulgated various compensation measures, even retroactively, for those who died for the Republican cause. The Party Member Compensation Regulations were proposed by the Nationalist Party’s Central Political Council (Zhongyang zhengzhi huiyi), approved at the seventieth regular meeting of the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee in 1926, and passed in 1927. The regulations, widely printed in official gazettes, urged family members, community leaders, provincial party bureaus, and

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governmental offices to collect records of party members who were wounded or killed while on duty and to submit them to the national government for commendation.32 The Revolutionary Commemoration Committee was put in charge of investigating and nominating martyrs who had died before the foundation of the Nationalist regime, such as the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs (chapter 1). Another office, the Central Executive Committee’s Compensation Committee (Zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui fuxu weiyuanhui) often shortened as Central Compensation Committee (Zhongyang fuxu weiyuanhui), was created in 1929 to specifically address cases of both revolutionary predecessors and party members.33 Furthermore, the Party Historical Commission (Dang shi hui) was founded in 1930 to collect photographs, writings, possessions, and other ephemera of martyrs.34 Many deceased Nationalist Party members were granted the honor of having their biographies compiled and preserved at the Party Historical Commission.35 The criterion for Revolutionary Alliance and Nationalist Party to receive honors was death “while engaging in various kinds of activities within the Party principles and perimeters,” or “while being assigned by any branch of the Party to propagandize the Party ideologies and/or to perform Partyrelated duties either clandestinely or overtly.”36 Eligibility was extended to party members who remained loyal despite the persecution and the lack of central leadership in the first decade of the party’s existence, especially those who fought against the Qing government, the Beiyang regime, and warlord forces. Notably, the regulations did not impose any time restrictions on or parameters of membership, allowing the incorporation of the national dead who had died before the Revolutionary Alliance, the Nationalist Party, or the Republic of China came into existence. As such, these regulations constructed a version of history in which the existence of the Nationalist Party was inseparable from that of the Chinese nation. To this end, the Nationalist government hailed many late-Qing reformers as predecessor martyrs, counting them among the proto–Nationalist Party members. Among them was He Laibao (1873–1900), who joined forces with other reformists, such as Tan Sitong (1865–1898), Tang Caichang (1867–1900), Bi Yongnian (1869–1902), and Cai Zhonghao (1877–1900), to organize an independent government and a defense force in Hunan. According to his son He Biao, upon discovering He Laibao’s plan to “overthrow the Manchu and revive the Han race,” the Qing authorities arrested and executed him.37 He Laibao could not possibly have died for the yet-to-exist Nationalist Party or the Republic of China in 1900, yet the Nationalist government honored him as if he had. Another member of the

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late-Qing reform movement in Hunan was Yi Ruilin (?–1899), who, according to his nephew’s petition, was captured and executed for “jointly conspiring a revolution” in Changsha. Even though He Laibao and Yi Ruilin were provincial reformers, the Nationalist government honored them as “revolutionary conspirators who died for the nation.” Citing the Party Member Compensation Regulations, the government rewarded He Laibao’s son 1,000 yuan to renovate his grave and Yi Ruilin’s wife an annual stipend of 400 yuan. In addition, the State History Bureau drafted the two martyrs’ biographies and added them to the national history.38 Co-opting and refashioning these reformers into anti-imperial, pro-Republican revolutionaries, the Nationalists created a teleological version of China’s national history with the inevitable downfall of the imperial power. The assassins and mutineers, such as Wu Yue, Peng Jiazhen, and Xu Xilin, who were condemned as criminals by the Qing authorities but hailed as Great Han heroes by Sun Yat-sen (chapter 1), received special honors from the Nationalist government in 1928. Revolutionary anarchist Wu Yue’s posthumously adopted heir received the first-rate annual stipend reserved for distinguished Nationalist Party members. The Nationalist government also approved the Anhui provincial government’s proposal to build a school named Mengxia, after Wu Yue’s courtesy name (a name chosen at adulthood), and to establish a bronze statue in his hometown.39 The families of Peng Jiazhen and Xu Xilin received an annual pension of 600 yuan each.40 Xu’s children were also awarded tuition waivers, and a shrine was built in Xu’s honor.41 In addition, the Nationalist government commemorated others who opposed the Qing and Beiyang governments, such as Lin Guanci (1883–1911), Chen Jingyue (1867–1911), and Zhong Mingguang (1881–1915). Lin, a native of Guangdong, joined the Revolutionary Alliance’s assassination squad. After failing to assassinate Zhang Mingqi, the Guangdong-Guangxi viceroy who later survived the Yellow Flower Hill uprising, the assassination squad instead targeted the naval admiral Li Zhun (1871–1936). The assassination squad tasked Chen Jingyue with transporting the necessary explosives and assigned Lin, Chen, and two others to be disguised as street peddlers with bombs in their baskets. After the first bomb exploded and injured Li Zhun, the admiral’s bodyguards opened fire on Lin Guanci. Lin was still able to toss the second bomb before breathing his last. Chen Jingyue admitted to the authorities his intention of killing Li Zhun, and was executed by Zhang Mingqi. Zhong Mingguang planned to assassinate Long Jiguang (1867–1925), a military general in southern China. The Qing authorities caught Zhong and executed him immediately. All three assassins (and Wen Shengcai) were

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buried at the Red Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb.42 In 1929, the Revolutionary Commemoration Committee petitioned the national government to receive 100,000 yuan for renovating the Red Flower Hill gravesite.43 The committee also edited and published the martyrs’ biographies.44 Figures with ambiguous allegiance to Sun Yat-sen were made into steadfast party members. One prominent case was that of Jiang Yiwu (1884–1913), whose life story was presented to the Nationalist government by his father, Jiang Gaonan, in 1928. According to the petition, Yiwu was a member of the Reviving China Society (Hua xing hui) and an acquaintance of Song Jiaoren. He joined the Revolutionary Alliance in 1906 and became president of the Military Academy (Shinbu Gakkoˉ) for Chinese students in Tokyo. Yiwu escaped capture by the Qing authorities during the 1911 Yellow Flower Hill uprising and served in the Nanjing Provisional Government. During the 1913 Second Revolution when leaders of the southern provinces and Sun Yat-sen’s political faction revolted against the Beiyang government, Yiwu fled to Guilin, where he was murdered by Lu Rongting (1859–1928), a military general in southern China.45 Jiang Gaonan emphasized his son’s connection to the Nationalists while omitting the fact that Yiwu joined the indigenous revolutionary movement of the New Army in Hubei. Some revolutionary soldiers in the New Army under Yiwu’s leadership established the Literature Society (Wenxue she), which played a significant role in orchestrating the Wuchang uprising. The Literature Society did not maintain connection with the Sun Yat-sen-led Revolutionary Alliance.46 Despite the fact that Jiang Yiwu was an equivocal figure, the Military Affairs Commission under Chiang Kai-shek hailed him as a martyr who “died while working for the Party and the nation” and proposed to reward him at the rate of an army general fallen in combat. As part of the martyrdom honors, the Hunan provincial government would maintain Jiang Yiwu’s gravesite and build a bronze statue. The central government also pledged to finance the schooling of the martyr’s son and daughter and to “safeguard his family members forever.”47 The register of martyrs expanded to include those who fought for the Eastern Expedition (Dongzheng) led by Sun Yat-sen against his ally-turnednemesis Chen Jiongming. Among them were Lu Renyu and Lu Weiye, who were executed by Chen Jiongming in an eastern suburb of Guangzhou on July 17, 1922. The Nationalist government condemned the federalist-minded Chen as a traitor because of his provincial vision that rejected the unification of China under a centralized government. Lu Renyu, a native of Xinyi County in Guangdong, held a law degree from a Japanese university and served as an aide-de-camp with the rank of major at the supreme headquarters in Sun

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Yat-sen’s army. Lu Weiye, a graduate from Guangzhou Army Academy’s cartography department, served as the head of the quartermaster’s office with the rank of major at the time of his death. Sun’s military government in Guangzhou had decreed that these martyrs should be honored. The Ministry of Military Administration, established in 1928, did not have any record of the 1922 compensation decrees issued by the military government to these men.48 The Executive Yuan proposed to compensate Lu Renyu and Lu Weiye as Nationalist Party members instead and granted their children stipends until they came of age.49 In addition to those who carried out violent struggles, the Nationalist government also promoted the idea of dedicated bureaucrats whose physical health was compromised by their zealous dedication to public service.50 One example was Zhou Rixuan (1881–1919), who joined the Revolutionary Alliance in the early twentieth century and participated in the 1911 Revolution. Zhou’s death at the age of thirty-eight was characterized as “dying from illness due to overexertion” ( jilao binggu)—another criterion for martyrdom. The assumption was that Zhou and other dedicated party members worked to the point of exhaustion. Their weakened bodies succumbed to illness and they died prematurely. Although Zhou Rixuan died of illness, the Nationalist government decided to honor him as a martyr and granted his family the highest-rate annual stipend of 600 yuan. The Executive Yuan proposed another special annual stipend of 2,000 yuan for his four children to continue their education in Japan.51

(Not) Burying the Revolutionary Dead The Nationalist Party briefly flirted with the idea of creating an exclusive community for the most esteemed revolutionary dead and a monumental complex to serve as the national holy ground. The Central Executive Committee proposed in October 1928 that “those that were killed while fighting for the Three Principles of the People and the National Revolution be enshrined in the Revolutionary Memorial Shrine [Geming jinian ci].”52 “National Revolution” refers to Sun Yat-sen’s goal for China to be a democracy and on equal status with other nations. The shrine would be established in the national capital of Nanjing for the exclusive purpose of offering sacrifices to the partystate revolutionary predecessors. Local authorities would likewise set up memorial shrines to those who lost their lives while on special missions for the party-state (dangguo), and those who made significant contributions to both the party-state and particular localities.53 Although the national government approved these guidelines, no national shrine materialized.

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The Nationalist government approved to grant “Party members with meritorious contributions to the nation and the Party” exclusive funeral arrangements.54 The 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations largely eliminated the government’s paying burial and funeral fees for run-of-themill cases. If the deceased party member did not have any relative to make afterlife arrangements, then the annuity would be converted into funeral and burial fees. Such fees could amount to hefty sums, given the need to transport coffins over long distances, organize memorial services, and build permanent graves.55 The central government made exceptions even if a relative was still living, however. For instance, in 1928, Mrs. Li, née Jiang, who lived in Anhua County, Hunan, petitioned for her son, Li Tang. He was captured while organizing revolutionary activities against Yuan Shikai. After three days of imprisonment and torture, he was executed and his body was temporarily deposited at a dilapidated temple in Changsha, about 170 miles from Mrs. Li’s home. Mrs. Li’s petition was forwarded to the Executive Yuan, which delegated the deliberation to the Ministry of the Interior. The premier of the Executive Yuan, Tan Yankai (1880–1930), then delivered the verdict to the national government and included a copied petition. Mrs. Li was already awarded the second-rate annual stipend of 400 yuan, but she made an additional request for coffin transportation fees. She was initially denied this because the Party Member Compensation Regulations did not automatically cover such expenses. Yet, in the scribbled comment on the communication from the Executive Yuan, the national government decided to make an exception for Li Tang’s family and grant Mrs. Li the expense of transporting the coffin.56 The national government forwarded the case to the Central Executive Committee, which approved an additional 300 yuan for Mrs. Li to transport Li Tang’s body back to his ancestral village.57 In some cases, the state diligently took care of the dead, inscribing the deathscape with emblems of loyalty. In 1927, the Nationalist Party’s Central Special Committee (Zhongyang tebie weiyuanhui) proposed a party funeral (dang zang) for Jing Wumu (1888–1918), a revolutionary from Shaanxi who helped Sun Yat-sen collaborate with the Society of Elders and Brothers and was executed as a result.58 In 1945, his grave was again renovated with a tombstone inscribed with “Here lies Mr. Jing Wumu, chairman of the Chinese Revolutionary Alliance Shaanxi Branch.”59 A public memorial for the late chairman was also planned on November 20, 1945 at the Xi’an Revolutionary Park and a funeral ceremony at the burial site on the following day.60 Yang Zengxin (1864 or 1867–1928), the governor of Xinjiang from the late Qing era until his death, received similar treatment. Yang was assassinated

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for announcing his allegiance to the Nationalist government. The Nationalist government granted his family 3,000 yuan for transportation of the body and burial in Beijing.61 In addition, the Executive Yuan instructed the Ministry of Transportation and the provincial governments of Hebei, Liaoning, Jilin, and Heilongjiang to aid with the transportation of his body through Manchuria to Beijing.62 By contrast, the martyr Peng Jiazhen, one of the famous anti-imperial assassins, did not receive such accommodations for his afterlife. In 1912, Sun Yat-sen promised the Peng family 30,000 yuan to build a shrine in their hometown and an annual stipend of 1,000 yuan. After Sun died in 1925, neither the Nationalist government, nor the Hebei provincial government, nor the Beiping municipal government fulfilled these promises. In 1928, Peng’s wife, father, and son traveled from Sichuan to Beiping to petition for money to build a memorial shrine. The Peng family mobilized their connection through Nationalist Party members to add more weight to their petition. Prominent figures such as Wang Jingwei, Guangxi general Bai Chongxi (1893–1966), and Dai Jitao (1891–1949), who served as the head of the Huangpu Academy’s political department and the first president of the Examination Yuan, continued to urge the Beiping municipal government to build a monument to honor Peng Jiazhen and to disburse the annual stipend to his family.63 The monument was planned to resemble a Buddhist pagoda topped off with the white stone previously reserved for imperial palaces. Peng’s cedar coffin would cost 2,000 yuan. In addition, another memorial was to be built and prints of Peng’s writings were to be distributed. As both the central and the municipal government did not want to shoulder the high costs for these memorials, none materialized.64 The Peng family ultimately received an annual pension of 600 yuan. They asked, however, for the extra 400 yuan a year from 1922 to 1928 as pledged by Sun Yat-sen. The amount added up to 2,800 yuan, but the family tried to negotiate with the Nationalist government by asking for just 2,000 yuan.65 Even with this discount, the Nanjing government did not resolve the case for another two years. Finally, in 1930, the Peng family themselves raised the money to purchase and renovate a private temple as a shrine to Peng Jiazhen.66 Unlike the Peng family, Huang Fu’s (1880–1936) bereaved relatives declined the burial arrangement made by the state. Huang had an illustrious life as one of the Revolutionary Alliance members who participated in the 1911 Revolution and the 1913 Second Revolution. During the 1910s and 1920s, he worked with Beiyang president Xu Shichang (in office 1918–1922) and traveled to Washington, DC, as a diplomat. He served in several offices, including mayor of Shanghai, foreign minister, and chairman of the North

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China Political Council in the 1920s and 1930s. Huang Fu and Chiang Kaishek even formed a sworn brotherhood.67 Educated in Japan and appointed High Commissioner for North China, Gen. Huang Fu was sent to negotiate with the Japanese Army in North China after the Jinan Incident on May 3, 1928.68 On that day a clash between Chinese Nationalist and Japanese soldiers in Jinan led to a series of battles that ended after Chiang Kai-shek yielded to the Japanese Army’s demands. When Huang died in Shanghai in 1936, the Nationalist Party awarded him a public funeral with a budget of 10,000 yuan. However, the Huang family firmly protested against the public funeral and insisted on a private ceremony for the deceased.69 Although it was not stated, the reason for this protest might have been related to the handling of the Jinan Incident. The Nationalist government had to acquiesce to the family’s demand, relinquishing its hold on the dead.70 In the 1920s, deceased Nationalist Party members became a separate social and political group that received generous posthumous treatment. Nonetheless, the generation of revolutionary predecessors from the late nineteenth-century anti-imperial uprisings began to lose some of their prestige to new generations of military servicemen.

Vying for National Martyrdom In April 1927, Chiang Kai-shek, the head of the Military Affairs Commission, proposed creating a new stipend scale to compensate more than 20,000 wounded and fallen soldiers of the ongoing Northern Expedition.71 This proposal, though urgently worded, was apparently tabled for a year. Near the end of the expedition, Chiang, with newfound power, asserted that over 10,000 fallen and 20,000 wounded soldiers and their families were waiting to be compensated.72 The Military Affairs Commission promptly drafted the Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations (revised as the Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations) and the Provisional Army, Navy, and Air Force Peacetime Compensation Regulations in 1927 and promulgated them in 1928.73 Whereas the compensation regulations for party members were taskoriented (that is, working for the party was the primary requirement to receive posthumous honors), the compensation regulations for members of the armed forces determined eligibility based on circumstances of death, rank, and whether death took place during peacetime or wartime. The Provisional Peacetime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations specified three circumstances that rendered a person eligible

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for compensation: (1) being wounded or killed while suppressing domestic turbulences; (2) being wounded or killed while on official duty; and (3) dying from illness because of overexertion. Payment of annual stipends was limited to seven years for those who died while suppressing domestic turbulences; five years for those who were wounded while suppressing domestic turbulences or were killed while on duty; and three years for those who suffered from injuries while on duty. If injuries prevented veterans from making a living, they would be eligible for pensions for life. Those who die from overexertion would be given only one-time stipends—the amount depending on their merits.74 The Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations specified the following eligible cases: (1) death in battle; (2) fatal wound(s) leading to the loss of life within a certain timeframe; (3) injury in combat; (4) death while on official duty; and (5) illness leading to death from overexertion. Death in battle included three circumstances: (1) being killed in combat; (2) being injured while engaging with enemies or performing a duty on the battlefield that later resulted in death; and (3) engaging in a special task or encountering an incident in a dangerous place during wartime that resulted in death.75 In the case of fatal wound(s) leading to the loss of life within a certain timeframe, if one died within six months for a first-grade injury, within four months for a second-grade injury, or within two months for a third-grade injury, one’s family would be eligible for the same level of compensation as if one had being killed in combat. First-grade injuries were defined as causing loss of self-reliance. Second-grade injuries were defined as causing significant difficulties in life. Third-grade injuries were defined as causing some difficulties in life.76 The three grades of injury are detailed in table 2.1. The compensation process for the military depended on the supervising officers, who completed survey forms for deceased or wounded soldiers and submitted them with certificates to the Military Affairs Commission. Supervising officers consulted the injury tables on death circumstances, injury grades, ranks, and corresponding stipend amounts. They filled in biographical data such as age, hometown, information about parents, wives, siblings, and children, units, and ranks. Supervising officers would also include such information as dates and detailed circumstances of injuries and deaths, treatment procedures, and signatures from treating doctors, medics, hospital directors, onsite supervising officers, and inspection officers (if available). Relatives of the deceased could also request officials from their native places to investigate, issue certificates of death, and submit survey

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Table 2.1 Injury chart according to the 1928 Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations FIRST-GRADE INJURIES

SECOND-GRADE INJURIES

THIRD-GRADE INJURIES

loss of eyesight in both eyes

loss of the ability to use one limb

loss of one or more digits of one hand

loss of at least one foot or one hand

loss of two or more digits of one hand

loss of three or more digits of one foot

loss of the abilities to chew and speak

loss of hearing in one ear or loss of seeing in one eye

loss of hearing in one ear (or one ear or nose being stripped off )

loss of genitalia

degradation in one’s ability to chew and speak

degradation of visual capacity

loss of control over basic bodily functions

loss of control over bodily movements

obstructed movements of the head and waist

loss of the ability to move without help

injuries equivalent to these categories

injuries equivalent to these categories

injuries equivalent to these categories Source: Adapted from Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050164.

forms to the provincial government. Their petitions would be forwarded to the national government for approval. If this extensive procedure could not be followed, the government suggested distributing the compensation first and waiting for supervising officers to submit survey forms and certificates later.77 In reality, bureaucratic red tape, corruption, missing information, and other obstacles made it hard for soldiers and their families to receive their honors. The increase in the scale of conflict on multiple fronts, with high casualties and serious threats to the Nanjing government in the late 1920s and early 1930s, propelled the Nationalists to grant fallen soldiers national martyrdom status. After the Chinese National Revolutionary Army clashed with the Japanese Imperial Army, Chiang’s attempt to avoid further conflict failed. Japanese general Fukuda Hikosuke (1875–1959) executed Chiang Kai-shek’s negotiation team, led by Cai Gongshi (1881–1928), to provoke the Nationalist government. Following the Mukden Incident on September 18, 1931, the Japanese Kwangtung Army invaded Manchuria and established the puppet state of Manchukuo. Japanese generals commanded tens of thousands of additional troops from Korea, forcing the Nationalist army and Zhang Xueliang’s (1901–2001) force to retreat to the south of the Great Wall. The First Shanghai War broke out in January 1932.78 In early 1933 Japanese troops began pushing toward Beiping and Tianjin. Further, from 1932 to 1933, Chiang Kai-shek launched five largescale encirclement and suppression campaigns against the Communist

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forces in Eyuwan (on the Hubei-Hunan-Anhui borders) and Jiangxi and suffered thousands of casualties.79 Among those fatalities was a young man named Xiao Hanjie whose widowed mother, Mrs. Xiao, née Wu, from Changsha, in November 1933 petitioned the Nationalist government for his enshrinement. Aptly named “a Han hero,” Hanjie died heroically while fighting the Japanese Army in northern China. However, as he was neither a Nationalist Party member nor a National Revolutionary Army serviceman, he was ineligible for national martyrdom. Huang Shaohong (1895–1966), the minister of the interior, used Mrs. Xiao’s petition as a rationale to bring up a discussion on new standards of martyrdom. The 1928 Martyr Sacrifice Offering Measure ordered counties and municipalities to enshrine those who died for the National Revolution. Huang Shaohong reasoned that the criterion of “being martyred for the National Revolution” could certainly include commissioned combatants (congjun zuozhan renyuan). However, Huang asserted that to be eligible for enshrinement in Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, those commissioned combatants had to not only “render such extraordinary services to the party and the nation but also die in such heroic manners that their examples can instruct later generations, deeply and substantially inspiring respect and admiration.”80 Huang argued that national martyrs were by no means ordinary fallen-in-battle or killed persons. Huang then admitted that such reasoning as he demonstrated above was actually farfetched, adding that the current fixed standard for martyrdom was difficult to follow. The Martyr Sacrifice Offering Measure had too many gaps, including the lack of specific criteria for martyr enshrinement at the local and national levels. In the end, Huang petitioned for a new measure to meet political changes.81 Wang Jingwei, the head of the Executive Yuan, vetoed the Ministry of the Interior’s request and proposed that the Nationalist government preserve “dying for the National Revolution” as the ultimate requirement for martyrdom. Fallen soldiers would be evaluated by this criterion.82 As the chairman of the most powerful branch of the government, Wang succeeded in preventing new standards for martyrdom from being implemented. Wang’s decision was upheld by the national government. Proposals from the Executive Yuan were often passed without disapproval from the national government, headed by Lin Sen, who had become a largely titular figure. Wang’s refusal to change the wording of the martyrdom measure signified the dynamic within both the Nationalist Party and the Nationalist government. Wang had participated in anti-Qing activities and had gained a great deal of political stature as one of Sun Yat-sen’s protégés. Even being imprisoned during the most critical moment in 1911, Wang maintained a

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high political profile because of his defiant attitude during his hearing and trial. Upon release from prison, he was hailed as one of the revolutionary elders in the Revolutionary Alliance, and subsequently secured a seat among the highest-ranked members in the Nationalist Party.83 The cachet of the National Revolution impacted Wang Jingwei’s political position. Banishing Sun Yat-sen’s proclamation of “fighting for the National Revolution” from the regulations in favor of “fighting against the Japanese invasion” would have allowed military leaders, such as Wang’s political archrival Chiang Kai-shek, to rise in prominence. Furthermore, Huang Shaohong, who suggested implementing new criteria for martyrdom, came without credentials from the 1911 Revolution, having been just sixteen years old at the time. As Huang pledged loyalty to Chiang, who in return trusted him with important tasks, Huang’s proposal might as well have been Chiang’s idea.84 Yet, as the head of the Executive Yuan, Wang had the authority to stop the motion from the Ministry of the Interior. By controlling which of the dead were commemorated and in which manners, Wang maintained his elevated political status. As a result of Wang’s insistence, the Measures to Offer Sacrifices to Martyrs and Construct Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and Memorial Steles issued in 1933 only implicitly included servicemembers who died fighting the Japanese Army. Keeping the martyrdom requirement of “dying for the National Revolution” meant that the ideological prerequisite was more important than the manner of death. Mercenaries and former warlord soldiers incorporated into the Nationalist military without professing devotion to the National Revolution and the Nationalist ideology would therefore be disqualified even if they died the most honorable death—being killed in combat. However, one major change did take place. Unlike the 1928 measure, the 1933 version omitted the “fighting for the Three Principles of the People” as a criterion for martyrdom. This change did not indicate departure from Sun Yat-sen’s ideology, but rather challenged the authority of Wang Jingwei and others who gained political stardom from earlier decades and who rivaled Chiang’s fraction in the Nationalist Party. Wang Jingwei’s faction also tried other ways to prevent the status of servicemembers from encroaching upon the exclusive realm of party membership. In 1929, the issue of how to properly compensate National Revolutionary Army soldiers who had died before the July 9, 1926 oathtaking ceremony of the Northern Expedition came up. These soldiers could not be compensated according to the Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations, which only applied to cases during the Northern Expedition. Moreover, the Executive Yuan under Tan Yankai,

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who carried out revolutionary activities in the late Qing and belonged to Wang Jingwei’s faction, refused to compensate these soldiers as Nationalist Party members even though they technically “died while fighting for the party” (wei dang fendou beihai). In December 1929, the Ministry of Military Administration, which was subordinate to the Executive Yuan, proposed the Measure to Compensate Pre-Oath National Revolutionary Army Servicemembers Who Died for the Revolution to prevent the encroachment of servicemen into the realm of revolutionary predecessors. The measure was passed by the national government.85 Although National Revolutionary Army soldiers were not considered equal to Nationalist Party members, the Nationalist government built them an exclusive cemetery next to the tomb of the republic’s founding father, Sun Yat-sen.

Burying the Military Dead The unprecedented human cost of the American Civil War propelled the Union government to take care of the corporeal remains on battlefields. Public military cemeteries began to populate Europe after World War I. Republican China, however, did not make much effort to build military cemeteries, except for one. The National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery for Fallen Officers and Soldiers, built in the mid-1930s, was the first national military cemetery in China, marking the rise of military martyrdom. This government-built cemetery for the Northern Expedition heroes also overcame the stigma attached to public cemeteries, which were usually for those who could not be buried by their families. In fact, it was an honor to be buried at the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery. In 1927, the Nationalist Party moved from Guangzhou—one of the most glorified birthplaces of the Republican revolution—to Nanjing—the capital of the republic chosen by Sun Yat-sen. Chiang Kai-shek took Sun’s body to be buried in Purple Mountain (Zijin shan) on the outskirts of Nanjing, and constructed the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery. As a burial site of the founding fathers and the Northern Expedition military dead, Nanjing became the new mecca of the republic. Chiang Kai-shek employed a US architect, Henry K. Murphy (1877–1954), to design a nine-tower Linggu Pagoda, which symbolized Buddhist merits.86 A hall dedicated to fallen officers and soldiers was constructed on the eastern side of Purple Mountain in 1928.87 The task of collecting bodies began immediately after. The Nationalist government streamlined the process of collecting the records of the military dead of past conflicts and became significantly more efficient in handling those dead. In charge of tracking fallen officers and

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soldiers, the logistical headquarters sent survey forms to the General Headquarters of the Army, Navy, and Air Force and the Ministry of Military Administration. The smallest military unit, the battalion (ying), would fill out these forms. The “National Revolutionary Army . . . Division . . . Brigade . . . Regiment . . . Battalion Fallen Officer and Soldier Survey Form” contained the following items: rank, duty, name, age, hometown, time and place of death, current burial place, private or public burial, individual or common burial, grave marker, and additional notes.88 According to the surveys, during the extended Northern Expedition from 1925 to 1930, the National Revolutionary Army lost 35,260 men from fifty-eight units. The First Shanghai War from January 28 to March 3, 1932 resulted in 4,031 fatalities from nine units. Battles against the Japanese Army in northern China after the Mukden Incident caused 11,413 military fatalities from thirty-eight units. From 1932 to June 1934 the first “anti-bandit” ( jiao fei) campaign resulted in 7,229 deaths from seventy-four units. The term “bandit,” fei or kou, was used in the Nationalist government’s documents to denote Communist forces, Japanese forces, and other enemies of the Nationalists. It could also refer to local bandits, some of whom joined military campaigns and reverted to banditry afterward. From July 1934 to June 1935, the second “anti-bandit” campaign ended in victory for Chiang Kai-shek with 11,171 fallen Nationalist officers and soldiers from eighty-one units.89 In total, this project obtained the biographical information of 69,104 fallen servicemen. In addition to the statistical data, the National Revolutionary Army printed martyrs’ biographies. Sun Yuanliang (1904–2007), a graduate of the Huangpu Military Academy and later an army commander in the War of Resistance and the Civil War, authorized the production of the Biographies of the Shanghai Anti-Japanese Killed-in-Combat Martyrs of the 259th Brigade of the 87th Division of the 5th Army in 1932. The volume contained about 1,000 fatalities, with 230 brief biographies and 43 longer ones.90 These statistical and biographical data were essential to the establishment of the military cemetery. The National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery Planning Committee under the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee documented the construction of the cemetery and processes for collecting the remains for reburial. The committee, headed by Chiang Kai-shek, included veteran members of the Revolutionary Alliance, generals of the Northern Expedition, and major political figures in the Nationalist government. Chiang composed a preface to the commemorative volume in November 1935, emphasizing the victory of the Northern Expedition and the special honors bestowed on these fallen servicemen:

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Our National Revolutionary Army under the command of the Party executed the Northern Expedition. Within two years, we have succeeded. Our late director’s unfulfilled goal has been promptly achieved, all due to the sacrifice of our loyal and valorous officers and soldiers. In November 1928, the Central Executive Committee, hoping to praise and commemorate the loyal and the sacrificing by constructing a public cemetery specially for fallen officers and soldiers, ordered Zhongzheng [Chiang Kai-shek] and others to be members of the Planning Committee in charge of this matter.91 This project consolidated Chiang’s supremacy among the troops and the party leadership. Chiang bestowed on these war dead the phrase “national martyrs” ( guoshang), maintaining that as they fulfilled the “heavenlybequeathed destiny of dedicating one’s utmost to the nation,” their posthumous existence would be taken care of by the state.92 Chiang emphasized the significance of the armed forces in building the state. By constructing a monument to the triumphal Northern Expedition, Chiang implied that Sun Yat-sen had carried out several expeditions during his lifetime with only limited success, whereas Chiang himself realized what Sun could only have dreamed. The government engraved names of deceased combatants on ninetyseven stone tablets, organized the tablets into four rows, and placed them in the offering hall. Tablets no. 1 to 61 contain 35,228 names of fallen Northern Expedition servicemembers. Tablets no. 61 to 67 contain 4,031 names of the dead from the First Shanghai War. Tablets no. 67 to 82 contain 11,413 names of anti-Japanese war casualties. Names of fallen soldiers who died during anti-bandit campaigns from July 1934 to June 1935 were in the process of being carved when the report was compiled.93 In total, over 50,000 war dead were commemorated at the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery. However, the number of fallen soldiers who were selected to be buried at the cemetery was about 2,500, or 5 percent of the 50,000 named deaths. The selection procedure was formalized in the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery Grave Reparation Regulations promulgated by the Military Affairs Commission in July 1935. The regulations stipulated “representative burial” (daibiao zang) by drawing lots. In the first lot drawing on March 18, 1932, the Military Affairs Commission chose 603 names from the Northern Expedition, and later decided to add another 522 individuals. It would be expensive and laborious to recover these bodies, which had been buried in situ for half a decade. In the second drawing on September 6, 1934, the

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Military Affairs Commission chose 281 names from anti-Japanese campaigns in northern China and 128 names from the First Battle of Shanghai. With the third drawing, 525 names were chosen from various anti-bandit campaigns. Another 427 names were added later. Only a small fraction of bodies from anti-Japanese and anti-bandit campaigns could be recovered because these fights were still ongoing. In October 1935, when the Fourth Army submitted another 312 casualties from the Northern Expedition and 187 from antibandit campaigns, the Planning Committee only selected 8 and 6 from the two groups, respectively, because of space concerns.94 The remains recovery procedures were more challenging than the Planning Committee had expected. Investigators were sent to 284 burial sites in seventeen provinces to find fallen officers and soldiers from the Northern Expedition. They found 414 coffins. In addition, the investigation and recovery team retrieved 291 coffins from anti-Japanese campaigns in northern China, yet they could only transport 188 of them to Nanjing. The team also shipped 261 coffins of First Battle of Shanghai casualties to Nanjing. In total, 863 coffins were interred at the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery.95 Less than 2 percent of fallen soldiers received the honor of being buried in the national cemetery. Nonetheless, the symbolic power was significant. The military had its national cemetery in the government seat of Nanjing, whereas the revolutionary vanguards of the Yellow Flower Hill were buried in Guangzhou, far from the capital. As the Northern Expedition established the authority of the Nationalists vis-à-vis other power holders, the fallen servicemen of Chiang’s military campaigns were buried, or, in most cases, their names were honored and their spirits were comforted, in the public cemetery in Nanjing. In the 1930s the military dead were not only eligible for enshrinement in the same manner as Nationalist Party members but also enjoyed the same ritual and reverence previously reserved for the most hallowed revolutionaries. The Nationalist government, with nominal control and insufficient resources, could only play a limited role in caring for the physical remains. Similar to the Union during the American Civil War and European states during World War I, the Nationalist state attempted to rebury its soldiers in cemeteries instead of leaving the dead where they fell. China, however, did not form an organization similar to the American Graves Registration Service or the British Imperial War Graves Commission to effectively care for its dead. Families, local communities, native-place associations, philanthropists’ groups, religious societies, international organizations, and funeral companies collected, stored, transported, and buried corporeal remains.96

Figure 2.1. Map of the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery for Fallen Officers and Soldiers. From Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui zongbaogao (Nanjing: Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, 1936).

Figure 2.2. Pagoda tower at the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery for Fallen Officers and Soldiers. From Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui zongbaogao (Nanjing: Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, 1936).

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Nevertheless, the Nationalist government, keen on harnessing the power of the war dead, ordered counties and municipalities to build Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and to offer regular sacrifices to the military and civilian dead in their jurisdiction.

A Martyrs’ Shrine in Every County On a winter day in 1935, an assassin fired his gun at Wang Jingwei, who was leaving a gathering of the Central Executive Committee. If Wang had died, he would have been hailed as one of the most esteemed national martyrs in China. However, Wang survived the ordeal and resigned from all his posts to seek treatment. During Wang’s recuperation in Europe, Chiang Kai-shek took over the Executive Yuan and altered Wang’s previous objection with regard to the military dead. In April 1936, Chiang Kai-shek, heading both the Military Affairs Commission and the Executive Yuan, drafted new regulations to specially honor the fallen and wounded members of the Nationalist armed forces. In its memorandum, the Military Affairs Commission reasoned that a state had to constantly rally its people to its cause even when the Northern Expedition was completed and the nation was united. Chiang claimed that, “as the nation is still in the state of trouble, we shall seek to rejuvenate the people [minzu], rely on the hearts of all who dare to die, and follow the revolutionary predecessors to rise up. These shall be sufficient to salvage the nation from foreign invasion.”97 The Nationalist government in May 1936 promulgated the Measure to Construct County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, which overturned Wang Jingwei’s 1933 objection to the removal of the single standard for martyr enshrinement—“dying for the National Revolution.”98 The 1936 measure broadened the categories of martyrdom to include those who had fought in conflicts since 1911. Accordingly, necrocitizenship was legally extended to include “officers and soldiers who died in defense campaigns against foreign aggression [diyu waiwu], in the Northern Expedition, and in anti-Communist [jiao chi] campaigns.”99 These changes not only boosted Chiang Kai-shek’s authority but also signaled a new era for the Nationalist state. Chiang’s credentials as a revolutionary paled in comparison to those of his archrival Wang Jingwei. Chiang was in Japan from 1907 to 1911—the critical revolutionary period leading to the fall of the Qing government—and returned to China after the Wuchang uprising. Chiang’s power rested on the Huangpu Military Academy cadets, the National Revolutionary Army, and the Northern

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Expedition. As his authority derived from his military successes in the 1920s, Chiang tried to elevate the prestige of servicemen vis-à-vis revolutionary predecessors. With the new measure, the Nationalist government asserted its presence in the traditional deathscape and the belief system of the afterlife. The Nationalist government ordered counties and other subprovincial administrative divisions to build the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines next to the local Temples of Literature or the Shrines for Village’s Sages (Xiangxian ci). The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines were to be converted from the Manifest Loyalty Shrines, the Loyalty and Righteousness Shrines, or other shrines of similar nature. If none were available, counties should construct new ones. If a county did not have any war dead, it would make offerings at the Guan-Yue Temple or a similar temple dedicated to well-known ancient generals to promote the martial spirit. These specificities indicate how the Nationalist government imagined its war dead as the epitome of timeless loyalty and virtue, and in affiliation with written civilization and ancient sagehood. The measure also required local authorities to negotiate and seek approval from the people in charge of the temples or local Buddhist societies. Undoubtedly, many county governments encountered opposition from local communities and individuals over the appropriation of their ritual spaces.100 The 1936 Measure to Construct County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines sought to instill shared political interest in communities by encouraging families, acquaintances, and neighbors of the dead to initiate processes that could lead to the granting of the status of martyrdom. The measure also set up a hierarchy of recognition for heroic feats, awarding martyrs commemoration at the national and local level. Additionally, the measure aimed at creating a network of commemoration. Local authorities were ordered to create ancillary shrines joined to the martyr’s shrines at places where their deeds had gained prominence, where their martyrdom had taken place, or where they had considered as their places of origin. To ensure the enshrined martyrs were those who died for the party-state, the measure also required that martyrs’ biographies be submitted to the Ministry of the Interior for approval. Only thereafter could their spirit tablets be placed in the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine.101 Nevertheless, the bottom-up process of martyr commemoration allowed local authorities to enshrine other military figures who had fought in preRepublican wars. The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines did not aim for universality or anonymity, as often seen in twentieth-century Western modes of war commemoration. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, an established convention in many parts of Europe and the United States after World War I, contains remains

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without identification.102 The Cenotaph is an empty tomb erected in honor of those who were buried elsewhere. By contrast, the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines contained no physical bodies but hosted wooden tablets or paper rosters of names of the dead. The Chinese martyrs’ bodies were buried where they had died or in their ancestral burial grounds if their families could arrange transportation of their bodies, but their spirit tablets were enshrined in the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines of their native towns. Upon obtaining the status of martyrdom, the spirits of the dead, inhabiting spirit tablets, became recipients of sacrificial offerings. The use of wooden spirit tablets in making offerings to the dead had been practiced since the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE), if not earlier.103 Spirit tablets were tied to the Confucian spirit cult, which gained prominence over Buddhist funerary rites at the turn of the seventeenth century, especially among local elites.104 The Nationalist government regulated the spirit tablets down to the size and color scheme. Each tablet bore the martyr’s name in the middle in a vertical line, framed by decorative patterns. A band was added to the top. The bottom had a base with extending legs for stability. The main frame was about two feet tall and six inches wide. Each of the side frames was two inches wide. The top band was two and a half inches high. The base was slightly less than four inches high.105 The tablet was made with a blue (the color of the Nationalist Party) bottom and golden (the color of power and authority) characters that read “Martyr So-and-So’s Tablet.” Place and date of death might also be added to the spirit tablet. When a single tablet served for a large number of the dead, it would be inscribed with the name of the campaign, for example, “The spirit tablet of the fallen officers and soldiers of the Battle of Shanghai against the Japanese enemy.”106 The rise in casualties erased the possibility of individual names—a crucial component in the traditional way of honoring the dead in China. Besides spirit tablets, the Nationalists infused new meanings into traditional dates of worshiping the dead. In 1933, the Nationalist government contemplated setting the solar dates for the spring and autumn sacrifices. Traditionally, spring and autumn sacrifices are organized at the Qingming festival (the first day of the fifth month of the lunar calendar) and the Zhongyuan festival (the fifteenth day of the seventh month). During these occasions, offerings are made to the dead at grave sites and household altars. Because these dates were not fixed in the solar calendar, the government could designate anniversaries of important events in the history of the republic to be the dates of the spring and autumn sacrifices. As the costs associated with biannual commemoration would be too strenuous, the Nationalist government decided in 1936 on a single annual

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Figure 2.3. Template for spirit tablet. From Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001012100-0006, file 50148276.

commemoration and set the date as July 9, the anniversary of the Northern Expedition’s oath-taking ceremony.107 The nationwide county-shrine policy had impacts in the southeastern provinces that were under Nationalist control. Given their proximity to the capital government, counties in Jiangsu Province demonstrated their responsiveness to the central government’s regulations for organizing commemorative and condolence activities. Fifty-five out of sixty-two counties in

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Jiangsu filed reports from July to November 1936.108 The Measure to Construct County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, which was publicized on May 22, 1936, afforded counties a month and a half to prepare for the July commemoration. Fourteen counties either established Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines or designated spaces within existing religious structures as altars to Republican martyrs. Forty-six counties reported that they completed at least one commemorative activity. The rest demonstrated efforts to comply with the measure or offered reasons why they could not comply. Although a generic report would have sufficed, some counties submitted a thorough description of their activities. Jiangyin County, for example, formed a shrine-conversion committee consisting of party members and local gentry as early as May 1936. With the money raised domestically and from overseas, the committee had completed the shrine by the end of June. On the day of the public sacrifice, the county enshrined heroes from the Northern Expedition, anti-Japanese campaigns, and anti-Communist campaigns. The county head personally led the public banquet, and afterward he brought large boxes of cakes and sweets to the relatives of the martyrs. The photographic prints of the county public sacrifice showed men, women, and children of different socioeconomic and cultural groups, evidenced by their various attire, such as traditional long robes, military uniforms, and western suits, gathering in front of the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. The caption indicated that bereaved family members and government representatives were in attendance. The report from Jinshan County was likewise extensive, containing detailed biographies of four local martyrs prepared by a biographer. Stone tablets and memorial towers had been erected at the county’s First Public Park. The report also mentioned one of the local martyrs, Xu Shangzhi (1889–1921), who had been shot in Gaozhou and later buried in Guangzhou Nine Hills Martyrs’ Graves. Because Xu’s body had not been transported back to Jiangsu, Jinshan County people buried his clothes in a grave on the side of Leyuan Road so that the locals could pay homage. The local authorities omitted condolence visits from the commemoration program because these martyrs’ families had moved out of the county, in some cases to unknown places. During the public sacrifice attended by representatives of all social and political groups on July 9 at the First Public Park, the Jinshan County head led the ceremony. He began by presenting sacrificial items of “yellow sandalwood, white cured meat, crimson litchi, and green bananas” before the spirit tablets of the fallen soldiers who were natives of the county. The county head then eulogized these martyrs who had “sacrificed their lives for the

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nation” by venturing into “the tiger dens and the whale caves” and treading through “hails of bullets and forests of guns.” Even with “their heads severed, their legs broken, their arms snapped, and their chests penetrated,” the martyrs never ceased to “value the nation over their lives and view death and life the same.” The elegy continued: “Human life is seldom over one hundred years, flesh rots away like trees, and nothing is left to be transmitted to later generations. Would it better to be the gentlemen who died for the nation? Such deaths are as heavy as Mount Tai. Such names are forever recorded in history.” The elegy concluded with the loss of China to foreign invaders: “Where might there come forth the brave ones who guard the four corners of the land? Who can cleanse this land of the taint of barbarism and restore our country to its rightful boundaries?”109 The elegy blended traditional imageries with political convictions. The requiem for the July 9, 1936 public sacrifice in Xuzhou County, Jiangsu, likewise praised the “chivalrous nature and dashing appearance” of the officers and soldiers who had joined the Nationalist Party and had fought courageously since the Northern Expedition. The elegy invoked traditional images of soldiers “fighting in border battlefields . . . pouring all of their energy in battle cries . . . quelling the Hu barbarians of the northern and western regions,” and “being wrapped in horsehide” after death. The elegy then shifted to focus on contemporary values: “Hail officers and soldiers! You have contributed to the Party and the nation and died for the righteous cause. You will shine on for eternity. You are the flowers of the revolution and the blood of ancient worthies.” Combining the traditional and revolutionary imageries to praise the dead, the elegy called the spirits to manifest themselves: “[We establish] bronze statues and luxurious steles to record your virtues. [We use] the Great Summons in this rhythmical prose. Oh, cloudsouls, please come back.”110 The 1936 requiem echoed the shamanistic soul-calling that was to guide the souls through the landscape of temptations and dangers: The bronze zither has begun to play. The fine wine has been poured. The sound of the songs excites the land of Chu. The beauties of the land of Yue reluctantly leave. The howls of apes and cries of cranes are overwhelmed with sorrow. The surging waves of the Eastern Sea and the luxuriant magnificence of the Dragon Mountain manifest the soaring vital energy and the eternal bravery. . . . We feel the responsibility of the survivors.

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We share the remorse. We wipe away our tears and compose this elegy to expose our ignorance. Alas! Alas! Please enjoy the sacrifices.111 In the Chinese belief system, each person has an airy cloud-soul (hun), which travels, and an earthly white-soul (po), which stays with the body after death. Death is a dangerous journey, rather than a peaceful respite, especially for those who do not live out their natural lifespan. After leaving the body, the cloud-soul is lost among dangerous terrains and sensual temptations and thus has to be guided to the final destination. Soul-calling, a millennium-old practice, involved survivors climbing to high places waving garments of the newly deceased and pleading with the newly departed souls to come back to the host bodies. The enshrined spirits (shen) then dwelled in the tablets placed inside shrines and on family altars, where sacrifices were made to them in exchange for their moral power.112 The martyrs, as victims of violent deaths, were eulogized as wandering souls in desperate need of the final rest and of sacrificial offerings. The abovementioned elegiac prose, however, was read without the funerary procedures of cleansing, dressing, encoffining, and interring the corpses. The requiem was also devoid of the emotional preparation for the living to carry on without the deceased. What the elegy did was to create a sense of community. The shrines, the spring and autumn sacrifices, the spirit tablets, and the soul-calling elegies reproduced primordial ties that helped the participants imagine the nation. The politically significant dates, the patriotism-fueled speeches, and the names of Republican martyrs on spirit tablets further reinforced such national imagination and directed it toward the recognition of the Nationalist regime. By mandating county-level shrines and public sacrifices honoring Republican martyrs and National Revolutionary Army soldiers, the Nationalist government aimed at cultivating a state infused with nationalist religiosity at the local level. The Nationalist state promoted a fervent sense of belonging, patriotism, and loyalty by packaging them in the traditional forms of shrines, sacrifices, and elegiac prose. Offering sacrifices to the spirits was meant to not only garner celestial favors but also maintain a unit, alliance, and community. The unit was extrapolated to be the nation-state in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Memorials were aimed at inspiring participants to emulate the honored dead—to die for the nation. By making every community, including those far from the battlefield, experience death through publicly commemorating their deceased members, the government

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made war a shared and ritualized tragedy of the whole nation. Local initiatives honoring the dead according to the Republican rhetoric of martyrdom and the increasing responsiveness of county governments to the central government’s regulations signified, to a certain extent, the mounting influence of the Nationalist Party. This chapter has examined the institutionalization of Republican martyrdom during the Nanjing decade. Instead of emphasizing civic virtues as suggested by Wang Shijie, the Nationalist state chose to reward exceptional demonstrations of patriotism. Late-Qing reformers and radicals were enshrined as founding fathers of the republic. Revolutionaries of various political convictions who were imprisoned, tortured, and executed by the imperial government were refashioned as predecessors of the Nationalist state. The necrocitizenry was also extended to include party members who died from illness and were hailed as dedicated citizens who sacrificed their physical selves for the state until their last breath. In addition, a new commemorative regime emerged. The Nationalists built monuments, cemeteries, and shrines for fallen revolutionaries and soldiers, imprinting nationalist religiosity onto the landscape and memoryscape. Public commemoration of martyrs that demanded civilian participation also represented the civilianization of war, which I will further examine in chapter 5. Furthermore, the rise of military martyrs in the public discourse creates, as Maria Rashid argues, “a powerful illusion of participation, compliance, and support whereby families willingly suffer this violence against their loved ones.”113 The following chapter will examine the state policy for the bereaved and the role of martyrs’ families in constructing the modern nation.

Ch ap ter 3

Consoling the Bereaved

When the military governor of the independent Yunnan Province, Gen. Cai E (1882–1916), was ill and dying in Fukuoka, he could not foresee that in fourteen years’ time he would be hailed as one of the revolutionary predecessors of the Nationalist government. Cai had been among the Chinese students at the famous Military Academy in Japan, but he did not join Sun Yat-sen’s Revolutionary Alliance. Inspired by Liang Qichao (1873–1929) and modern Germany, Cai pursued his own line of political thought and his ambition of reforming the Chinese into martial people. Cai and likeminded leaders formed the Army for the Protection of the Country (Huguo jun) and distinguished themselves from Sun Yat-sen’s Republicanism. Cai dreamed of turning China’s southwest into a new Prussia. He then rallied to Yuan Shikai, hoping a strong centralized government would be the answer postimperial China needed. Later, Cai led a New Army uprising to establish a provincial military government in Yunnan and fought against Yuan Shikai’s monarchist ambitions.1 Despite Cai E’s anti-Yuan stance, the Beiyang government granted him a state funeral.2 A decade after Cai E’s death, the Nationalist government in Nanjing declared him a revolutionary martyr who had died from having relentlessly contributed to the National Revolution. In official communications, his demise in his prime—at the age of thirty-four—was considered the result of his selfless overexertion for the nation. Although Cai E, as a general of 83

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New Army units, might have had mixed feelings about being posthumously promoted to the rank of a general in Chiang Kai-shek’s National Revolutionary Army, his family (including his mother, née Wang, his wife, née Liu, a concubine, née Pan, two sons, and two daughters) eagerly welcomed the political recognition and monetary award from the Nationalist regime. Cai E’s case exemplifies the focus of this chapter: the relationship between the state and bereaved families. Because of Cai’s ambiguous political allegiance, his case did not receive immediate attention from the Nationalist government. Not until 1931 did two prominent party members, Zhang Renjie (1877–1950) and Shi Taojun (1880–1948), citing the compensation cases of Wu Luzhen’s and Huang Xing’s families from 1928, petitioned to award Cai’s bereaved relatives a special death stipend (te xu). The petitioners emphasized that Cai E’s “recovery” ( guangfu) of Yunnan influenced the uprising in Wuchang to “reach the premilitary stage of nationalism.” In addition, Cai E was adamant in his opposition to the Hongxian Emperor (Yuan Shikai), protection of the nation, and promotion of Republicanism.3 As a result, the Nationalist government compensated Cai E’s family according to the Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations. If the decision on Cai’s case had been based on the 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations, his family would have had received at most 600 yuan a year until his four children came of age (which would have happened in just a few years). Although he died of illness, his family was given an annual stipend of 800 yuan for twenty years—the highest rate reserved for a general of the National Revolutionary Army who died in combat.4 In addition to a sizable stipend, the four children were given 400 yuan a year for education fees until they completed all their education, including graduate school if they so desired. The Cai family also received 5,000 yuan to build a shrine in its ancestral village in Shaoyang, Hunan.5 The privileges of martyrdom continued for decades, during which Cai E’s relatives petitioned for more benefits. In 1935, Cai E’s mother died at the age of seventy-nine. She posthumously received a plaque from the government that praised her maternal wisdom in educating her son. The Cai family was also granted 5,000 yuan for her funeral and burial, an honor typically reserved for notable Nationalist Party members.6 The Nationalist government made an exception for Mrs. Cai based on the previous case of Huang Xing’s, mother who had been granted 5,000 yuan for her funeral. In 1937, Cai Duan, Cai E’s eldest son, petitioned for and received 1,000 yuan from the Nationalist government to renovate his father’s grave so that “the dead can rest while the living can be relieved from the eternal regret for

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their parents’ deaths.”7 The petition, which expressed filiality and grief, was granted even though there was no exact clause concerning grave reparation allowance in the compensation law.8 In 1940, Cai E’s wife, Mrs. Cai, née Liu, Xiazhen, submitted a petition stating that her family had not been receiving the guaranteed educational and living stipends, reminding the state of its obligation to the Cai family.9 The Nationalist government saw to her petition, ordered both the Executive Yuan and the Control Yuan to look into the matter, and directed the Accounting Office (Zhuji chu) of the National Treasury to ensure that the stipend was forthcoming.10 In 1941, Mrs. Cai, née Liu, died of illness in Guilin. Although there was no legal regulation concerning the afterlife of revolutionary martyrs’ wives, the Executive Yuan deliberated the possibility of granting her a funeral and burial stipend. However, the Central Executive Committee vetoed the proposal from the Executive Yuan.11 The rejection did not signify that the partystate had finally cut off Cai E’s posthumous privileges. It had more to do with the fact that in 1935 the Nationalist government had instructed the Central Executive Committee to disburse stipends to revolutionary predecessors and party members from the Nationalist Party’s own purse. In 1947, the Hunan provincial government petitioned the Nationalist government for 100 million yuan to renovate Cai E’s grave. The paper trail ended with the petition being forwarded to the Executive Yuan for recommendation.12 The outcome of this petition, which was submitted in the middle of the Civil War, was undetermined. It is obvious that national martyrdom came with tangible benefits for the living. The Cai family supported the Nationalist government’s refashioning of Cai E’s politics in exchange for the political, social, and financial privileges associated with the “revolutionary martyr” title. As seen in the case of Cai E, the state turned some deaths into national affairs by bureaucratizing them. The bureaucratization of death manifested in measures for funerary rituals and burials, as well as regulations prescribed for mourning and remembrance. It included the forms and procedures one had to fill out and follow in order to receive compensation. A necrobureaucracy was created to ensure the posthumous wellbeing of the citizenry, with offices such as compensation committees and history bureaus to address requests from petitioners, compile biographies, and investigate thorny cases. This chapter examines how, like a bureaucracy that extracts revenue from the citizenry, a necrobureaucracy extracts value from the dead—as a bonding agent between the state and the living. Within the necrobureaucracy, compensation law granted the bereaved proxy citizenship, meaning the right to make claims to the state on behalf

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of the dead. Petitioners usually ended their letters with the plea that stipends, tuition waivers, burial fees, and other privileges from the state would “comfort the loyal spirits.” Proxy citizenship also indicates the inclusion of the bereaved into the nation-state on the basis of their familial connection to the recognized dead—the necrocitizens. The state extended its protection and nourishment to martyrs’ widows, offspring, and parents, privileging them over other segments of the population. With wartime scarcity, support from the state or the lack thereof could mean life or death. Thus, many petitions communicated the sorrow of war and the experience of loss, presented to the bureaucrats in charge in certain ways to maximize the petitioners’ chance of winning their appeals. Not merely depending on legal stipulations, petitioners often evoked emotions when recounting the martyrs’ tragic demise and their own suffering in the martyrs’ absence. The grieving family’s relationship with the nation was based on both legality and affect.

Beneficiaries In general, compensation regulations under the Nationalist regime extended benefit eligibility to parents, spouses, children, adopted heirs, grandparents, grandchildren, siblings, parents-in-law, and grandparents-in-law. The government, however, did not establish a consistent sequence of eligible relatives across compensation regulations. Such inconsistencies reflected a changing society in which the nuclear family and gender equality promoted by liberal intellectuals battled with patriarchal lineage and traditional values. Republican compensation law was influenced by changes in familial and gender relations. As early as January 1926, during the Second National Congress of the Nationalist Party held in Guangzhou, representatives called for liberation of women, equality in the legal, economic, educational, and social realms, an end to polygamy, and property rights for daughters. In October 1926, the Judicial Executive Committee ordered provinces under the Nationalist rule to implement daughters’ inheritance rights. In 1928, however, the Supreme Court dictated that only unmarried daughters were entitled to equal inheritance rights. In 1929, the Judicial Yuan appealed to the Nationalist Party’s Central Political Council about equal rights to properties for both unmarried and married daughters. The national government approved the proposal, which went into effect in May 1931.13 Amid these debates, the new civil code was passed, restructuring the legal foundations of gender and family relations in significant ways. Properties were granted in multiple directions: from parents to children (downward),

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from children to parents and grandparents (upward), and from one sibling to another (lateral). This “generational hopscotching” was “utterly unthinkable in imperial times.”14 The new civil code also collapsed all consanguineous kinship into “relatives by blood,” extinguishing the differences between maternal and paternal lineage. Kin consisted of blood relations, affinal relatives, and spouses.15 The principles behind these new inheritance patterns and kinship structures to some extent transferred over to compensation policies, as seen in the order of beneficiaries. Regulations issued in 1927 and 1928 grouped wives and children as beneficiaries of first priority, instead of the nearest male relative. Parents were placed in the third or fourth category of beneficiaries. For revolutionary predecessors and Nationalist Party members, their children, marital companions (pei’ou), and parents (in no particular order) were entitled to stipends. Benefits could reach the underage siblings of Yellow Flower Hill martyrs and the grandsons and grandparents of revolutionary martyrs from Jiangsu.16 Other family members ineligible for annuities, such as concubines, adopted heirs, heads of the martyrs’ families, and appointed guardians, could be eligible to be in charge of martyrs’ death benefits. The government advised that in the case of multiple relatives being eligible for compensation, the stipend should either be divided among them equally or managed collectively. If family members eligible for benefits died or became ineligible by remarrying or losing citizenship, their portions would be taken away and divided among the rest. If the number of family members was more than five, the government might consider increasing the amount to ensure the family’s livelihood. The government also guaranteed that in cases of extreme poverty, the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee might step in and make further accommodations.17 For members of the armed forces, the order of beneficiaries was set and reset a few times. Each time, the grouping was further truncated. The 1928 Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations divided eligible beneficiaries into six groups: (1) children (except married daughters), (2) wives (qi), (3) grandsons, (4) parents, (5) paternal grandparents, and (6) underage siblings. If none in the first group was present, the stipend would go to the second group, and so on. After the National Revolutionary Army was reorganized as the National Army, Navy, and Air Force in 1928, the groups of family members eligible for compensation were combined and reduced to four: (1) wives and children (except married daughters), (2) grandsons and parents, (3) paternal grandparents, and (4) underage paternal siblings. The most significant change was that wives were promoted to first in line to receive stipends.18

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In 1935, the Nationalist government abolished both the 1928 Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations and the 1928 Provisional Peacetime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations, and implemented separate regulations for each branch of the armed forces. The 1935 Provisional Army Wartime and Peacetime Compensation Regulations placed eligible relatives into four groups: (1) wives and children (except married daughters), (2) grandsons and parents, (3) grandparents, and (4) underage paternal siblings. The Provisional Air Force Wartime and Peacetime Compensation Regulations and the Provisional Navy Wartime and Peacetime Compensation Regulations had a slightly different order: (1) wives, (2) children (except married daughters), (3) grandsons, (4) parents, (5) grandparents, and (6) underage paternal siblings.19 The Nationalist government abolished the 1935 regulations and approved the Provisional Army Compensation Regulations in 1940, the Provisional Air Force Compensation Regulations in 1942, and the Provisional Navy Compensation Regulations in 1943. These three sets of regulations granted eligibility to three groups: (1) parents, wives, and children (except married daughters), (2) grandparents and grandsons, and (3) underage paternal siblings. The stipend would go to the second group if no one from the first group was alive. The third group would receive the compensation if members of the first two groups were all deceased.20 In practice, the compensation regulations and the kinship principles of the civil code were not always observed, especially when it came to female relatives. This can be seen in a case submitted by the Ministry of Military Administration to the Executive Yuan in 1932. An officer from Zhejiang died in an anti-bandit campaign, leaving behind a wife and a concubine. Each woman had a son. According to article 15 of the 1928 Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations, only wives and children were entitled to death benefits. The new civil code rendered concubines “without status” (wu diwei). However, as the concubine had been taken into the family before the civil code was promulgated, a question was raised as to whether the concubine was still eligible to share the stipend. The judgment recommended by the Executive Yuan and approved by the national government was in favor of the concubine. Noting that the concubine did not “remarry” (zaijiao, literally “having a second nuptial ceremony”), she received a share of the stipend.21 The government considered the qualification of “not remarrying” as a relevant feature that outweighed the concubine’s status under the 1930 civil code. Although the Nationalist state sought to outlaw concubinage, it was compelled to protect concubines as victims of the oppressive past.22 In cases such as this, the Nationalist state was more

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responsive to petitions with the oft-seen tropes of women as steadfast widows and sacrificing mothers who devoted the rest of their lives to preserving the patriline and educating offspring. Despite the promulgation of equal rights to inheritance for unmarried and married daughters, compensation regulations in principle only granted benefits to unmarried daughters. In theory, unmarried daughters and sons were treated equally in all compensation regulations. However, in practice, they were not equal as demonstrated by the low percentage of daughters as beneficiaries. According to a set of 255 compensation certificates issued from 1937 to 1940, 81 included both daughters and sons and 49 cases included only sons, whereas 18 included only daughters.23 These statistics and the smaller number of petitions involving daughters reveal that daughters were socially unequal to sons even when they were equal in the eyes of the law. Besides female infanticides and gender-based negligence as reasons for the lower number of daughters as beneficiaries, daughters were likely to be married off early (in many cases, even before they came of age) and thus unable to benefit from their fathers’ heroic deaths. However, in many cases of daughters of revolutionary martyrs, the issue of marriage was not mentioned at all. Some of these daughters received stipends and tuition assistance to attend university in the West. In some cases, daughters-in-law of revolutionary martyrs could also receive tuition waivers (see chapter 4). In 1929, a Li Quansheng petitioned on behalf of his niece Li Zhao, whose father Li Hongyu had died in the anti-Yuan movement in 1916. The Nationalist government granted the thirteen-year-old daughter an annual stipend of 400 yuan.24 In 1937, Mrs. Chen, née Li, Peiyu petitioned for her husband, Chen Juhai, a Hunan native who was martyred during the Second Revolution of 1913. Mrs. Chen lived in Guangzhou with her daughter, Chen Weilian. Chen Juhai’s old comrades had assisted the women in the past. However, as Weilian, having finished middle school, wanted to advance to high school, Mrs. Chen asked the government for tuition assistance. The Nationalist government approved the petition that claimed that the family was “too poor” to allow the daughter to continue her studies.25 In 1943, Zhu Ruiqi, the fourteen-year-old daughter of Zhu Hailiang, a revolutionary veteran who joined the Revolutionary Alliance in the early 1900s and participated in the Wuchang uprising, petitioned for compensation. Unmarried and living with her maternal aunt after her father’s passing in 1941, Zhu Ruiqi was eligible for an annual stipend of 900 yuan and a one-time stipend of 1,000 yuan.26 The issue of gender also came up for professional women. Unlike compensation regulations for party members and servicemembers, those for

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government officials distinguished between male and female bureaucrats. The traditional notion of gender roles influenced this distinction. The 1927 Government Official Stipend Regulations stipulated that the following relatives of deceased male bureaucrats be eligible for annuities: (1) wives, (2) underage children, (3) grandchildren, (4) parents, (5) grandparents, and (6) paternal underage siblings. The sequence was drastically different for deceased female bureaucrats: (1) underage children, (2) grandchildren, (3) husbands, (4) parents-in-law, (5) grandparents-in-law, (6) parents, and (7) grandparents.27 For a male bureaucrat, his wife and children were first and second in line to receive benefits. For a female bureaucrat, her children and grandchildren were the first and second to receive death benefits, whereas her husband came in third. Further, a woman’s conjugal family was prioritized over her natal family. A female bureaucrat’s parents could not receive any stipend unless all of her husband’s parents and grandparents were deceased. Another difference was that a male bureaucrat’s paternal underage siblings were eligible for compensation, whereas a female bureaucrat’s were not. In addition, compensation would be paid to the deceased government official’s wife regardless of her profession (with the typical assumption that she had none), whereas a female bureaucrat’s husband would only be compensated on the condition that he was unable to earn a living. The widower would lose the annuity if he became self-sustaining. The widow of a male bureaucrat lost her right to her husband’s compensation if she remarried. By contrast, the widower of a female bureaucrat could potentially remarry and continue receiving the compensation of his deceased wife if he remained disabled.28 Such a case did not come up in the archives, so I could not see how the law was applied.

Petitioners The Nationalist government published commendation decrees and significant cases in official gazettes and major newspapers, showcasing the state’s competence, enhancing the reputation of the commended, and allowing the public to access information about implementation of the Commendation Regulations. Using such information, family members, comrades, friends, acquaintances, subordinates, supervisors, and village leaders could appeal on behalf of the dead. Because only relatives were eligible for compensation, petitions often came from family members. Besides monetary rewards in the form of stipends, tuition waivers, and funeral fees, the social and political capital of being associated with revolutionary and war martyrs motivated many to file their cases with the government. Furthermore, because these

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regulations could be applied retroactively, families of revolutionaries who had died in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries could submit petitions decades after the passing of their loved ones. The Nationalist government from 1925 to 1949 received thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, of petitions from relatives of revolutionaries and soldiers who had died during various conflicts throughout the first half of the century. That the Nationalist regime bequeathed commendations to the martyrs and made various accommodations to the petitioners indicated how the dead presented a ground on which the modern state competed for influence. Petitioners usually composed their letters on a long piece of paper, folded them up in accordion form, and submitted them to the authorities in person or by post. Many petitioners narrated their familial histories in great detail, resulting in documents as long as booklets. In most cases, the complexity of the circumstance of martyrdom corresponded with the length of the petition. The lack of official records before the establishment of the Nationalist government placed the burden of proof on petitioners. Well-informed petitioners cited specific regulations applicable to their cases. Petitioners could refer to known precedents to request comparable accommodations. Newspaper reports, witnesses, and other pieces of evidence were also submitted to strengthen the claims. The requests varied from financial assistance for immediate kin to recognition for forgotten martyrs, burial expenses for martyrs’ parents, and educational fees for their heirs. The baojia (collective security and administration) heads from petitioners’ communities also affixed their chops—seals carved with names to sign documents—as guarantors.29 Moreover, witnesses, if available, signed the petitions. The use of representatives and letter writers was common, especially when the bereaved family was illiterate. But petitioners who signed their petitions with personal seals often composed theirs or exerted more influence over the content of the document. Petitioners also had to purchase government-issued stamps and affix them to the petition, which effectively acted as documentprocessing fees. A petition from 1929 carried ten one-cent stamps (or one ten-cent stamp), whereas a petition in 1943 cost twenty cents to file because of inflation.30 From 1928 to 1948 the Central Compensation Committee approved several thousands of compensation cases of party members.31 Petitioners first submitted their letters to county or municipal governments. If the case could not be resolved at the local level, it would be forwarded to the national government by way of the provincial government. Hence, only complex petitions reached the national level, whereas cases found at the municipal and provincial levels were often less nuanced. The national government then sent the case to the Ministry of the Interior by way

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of the Executive Yuan. The Ministry of the Interior ordered local authorities to conduct investigations to verify the claims in the petition. The inquiry process was intensive, frequently requiring the county officials to visit the martyrs’ hometowns to crosscheck the statements against information from baojia captains, neighbors, and clan members. Such precaution was not unwarranted, as investigation uncovered cases of fraud. For instance, in 1936, a Li Huanfang petitioned on behalf of his father, Li Tekao, who plotted an armed uprising in 1906 and died as a result. The petitioner painstakingly outlined various revolutionary achievements and mentioned names of well-known party members. However, the two investigators sent by the Central Compensation Committee could not verify most of Li Tekao’s revolutionary credentials. The petition was quickly dismissed.32 Once the local government confirmed the validity of the petition with the Ministry of the Interior, the latter resubmitted the case to the Executive Yuan, which then made a proposal of appropriate compensation and commendation to the national government. In case of approval, the national government then put the provincial or county treasury in charge of disbursing fees for funerals, burials, commemorative plaques, and stipends for living relatives. If the deceased had been a Nationalist Party member or a National Revolutionary Army soldier, the national government also sent the petition to the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee or to the Ministry of Military Administration. Compensation committees within these two offices addressed such cases and were responsible for stipends and other accommodations. On approval, the martyr’s family received a stipend certificate from the Nationalist government, which the family would use to receive the stipend from the national, provincial, or county treasury. Each certificate had three panels. The family, the national government, and either the provincial, municipal, or county government each kept one segment. In addition, in 1931 the national government approved the transfer of benefits of the families of fallen soldiers to their new places of residence. Once the Ministry of Military Administration investigated and verified their cases, relocated families could then receive stipends from the civil administration offices in their new provinces.33 This addendum was meant to help families who took refuge away from their homes to continue to collect benefits. However, whether the province where they transferred complied with the central government’s policy was another question. It often took considerable effort from bereaved families to receive compensation. The stipend certificate (shown in figure 3.1) was issued by Minister of the Interior Niu Yongjian to the family of Lu Weiye on May 24, 1930,

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eight years after Lu Weiye was killed by Chen Jiongming. Sun Yat-sen had already awarded the Lus with a large sum of compensation. However, as the Nationalist government moved from Guangzhou to Nanjing, Sun’s decree was forgotten. In 1927, the Lu family presented their case at the Guangzhou Political Council, but they again could not receive the stipend because of the ongoing Northern Expedition. In 1929, Lu Weiye’s father, Lu Zhiyun, petitioned again to the Nationalist government in Nanjing.34 After much investigation by the Executive Yuan and the Central Executive Committee, the Lu family finally received the second-rate annuity of 400 yuan in 1930.35 The submission, investigation, approval/rejection, and appeal processes took at least a few weeks, and often dragged on for months or even years. Some cases stretched over decades, such as that of Cai E, discussed previously. In addition, the volume of paperwork continued to increase even after the national government’s verdict. Claimants whose letters were denied could appeal multiple times. Even after cases were approved, petitioners might continue to appeal on the basis of their changed circumstances. Illness, death, remarriage, and adoption within the martyr’s family prompted new petitions. Entitled families who did not receive stipends often continued to appeal. Archival records are less likely to show cases in which the stipends promptly and correctly reached bereaved families. More often when the system failed to deliver the state’s promises, the paperwork piled up, leaving a substantial trail of documents. Survivor benefits were the most common motivation for people to claim the status of family of a martyr. The vast majority of the cases understandably focused on monetary intricacies. But receiving a death stipend was not only a monetary matter but also a political and social acknowledgment of one’s ultimate sacrifice. Families of recognized martyrs rejoiced in the honor and celebrated such occasions. For example, five sons of a Liu family printed and distributed a ten-page pamphlet of their martyred father’s biography, entitled Xian jun Liu Lin lieshi xunguo shilüe (Biography of our late father, martyr Liu Lin, who died for the nation), after they received honors from the state in 1928.36 The booklet commemorated the life of Liu Lin (1870–1916), a native of Qingjiang County in Jiangxi, who became a revolutionary. After graduating from Jiangxi Excellent Grade Normal University, Liu joined the education staff of the provincial council in Nanchang, the provincial capital. He participated in many revolutionary activities organized by Revolutionary Alliance members. Liu was executed for organizing an armed resistance group in Jiangxi against Yuan Shikai’s self-coronation. The Nationalist government awarded the Lin family 1,000 yuan—the highest-level one-time compensation that was reserved for martyred Nationalist Party members.

Figure 3.1. Stipend certificate issued to Lu Weiye’s family. From Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001-036000-0004, file 50002324.

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The juxtaposition of the “late father” with the “martyr who died for the nation” in the title of the pamphlet connects the family with the nation. The dead also became the linkage between the community and the state apparatus. The pamphlet, circulated in the village, validated the legitimacy of the Nationalist state on the grassroots level.

Death Benefits In 1926, Chiang Kai-shek and Zhang Renjie, a member of the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee, jointly proposed that the national government present an award to the revolutionary Fan Hongxian (1882–1914). According to the petition, after the failed Second Revolution in 1913, Fan loyally followed Sun Yat-sen to Japan. When the Beiyang government’s persecution of Nationalist Party members subsided, Fan returned to Shanghai to continue revolutionary work. In 1914, an assassin under Yuan Shikai’s command entered Fan’s bedroom during the night and stabbed him in the stomach. After Fan died from the wounds, his corpse was placed in a coffin and temporarily stored while awaiting proper burial for over a decade. As he had been a revolutionary elder close to Sun Yat-sen, the Nationalist government in Guangzhou ordered the Ministry of Finance to award the Fan family 5,000 yuan so as to “comfort his loyal soul.”37 In its early years, the Nationalist government awarded families in highprofile cases such as that of Fan Hongxian thousands or tens of thousands of yuan.38 Such amount allotted to compensation took up a miniscule part of the revenue. The Nationalist government in Guangdong reported a tax revenue of 80.2 million yuan from October 1925 to September 1926. The tax revenue increased to 122 million yuan by 1927 under Song Ziwen’s (1894–1971) tenure as the financial minister.39 Because of the exponential increase in Nationalist Party membership from thousands in the early 1920s to hundreds of thousands in the late 1920s, the 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations capped annual stipends at five rates (600, 400, 200, 100, and 50 yuan) and one-time stipends at six rates (1,000, 800, 500, 300, 200, and 100 yuan).40 In practice, the granted amounts sometimes exceeded the standards. According to a set of 1,287 compensation cases from 1928 to 1948 found at the Second Historical Archives in Nanjing, the Central Compensation Committee approved one-time stipends of 300 to 800 yuan to 139 bereaved families, annual stipends of 200 to 600 yuan to 154 cases, and special annual stipends of 750 to 1,000 yuan for 119 martyrs’ relatives.41 Stipends would be forthcoming until martyrs’ children came of age (twenty sui, or nineteen years old), widows died or remarried, and parents died. Tuition

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waivers were guaranteed to students up to the college level as long as schools, grades, and graduation dates were reported to the state annually. Republican-era annuities constituted ample amounts, given that an average family in the late 1920s spent from 300 to 630 yuan annually. In 1928, the Anhui provincial government reported on families of two martyrs, Nang Congwu and Sun Weiyuan. The widow and two sons of the Nang family spent 630 yuan a year, with 240 yuan on food, 120 yuan on clothes, 240 yuan on rent, and 30 yuan on tuition for an eight-year-old son in a public school. The Sun family, comprising a widow, three sons, and a daughter, was considered poor. The eldest son, at seventeen years old, had already quit school to work at a local inn for two yuan a month. The second son, a six-year-old, was attending school. The four-year-old son and the nine-year-old daughter were at home. Each year, the whole family spent 390 yuan, including 12 yuan on rent, 156 yuan on food, 210 yuan on clothes, and 12 yuan on tuition.42 In 1929, the family of Zhang Wenqin in Anhui, comprising a widow, a sixteen-year-old daughter, and a fourteen-year-old son who was attending school, lived on 300 yuan a year.43 Civil officials (wenguan), judicial officials (sifa guan), and police officials (jingcha guanli) were covered by the 1927 Government Official Stipend Regulations. If these government employees died from overexertion (jilao) after a minimum of ten years of working, their families would be eligible for annual stipends. The amount equaled one-tenth, one-seventh, or onethird of the final salary of government officials, police officers, or senior police officers, respectively. Families of government officials who died while on duty would be given the equivalent of two months of their salaries as annual stipends. The amount would be four months’ worth of salaries for police officers and ten months’ worth for senior police officers.44 Servicemen’s benefits were standardized in 1928. From 1925 to 1927 the Nationalist government in Guangzhou awarded large sums of money in many compensation cases of National Revolutionary Army servicemen. For instance, after Liu Yaochen (1894–1925), a regiment commander in the First Army, was killed by bullets in battle, the Nationalist government awarded Liu’s family 5,000 yuan and organized a memorial service for him in October 1925.45 However, Chiang Kai-shek could not afford to spend 5,000 yuan on each military fatality, because his army grew from 100,000 in 1926 to 700,000 in 1927 and to 2.2 million in 1928 by incorporating the forces of defeated warlords.46 In 1928, compensation for servicemen was limited to 20 yuan–3,000 yuan. The amount depended on military ranks, circumstances of death (whether in combat, while on duty, or because of diligent work), and whether death

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took place in wartime or peacetime. Families of fallen servicemen were eligible for both one-time and annual payments. Servicemen could also receive posthumous promotion in rank, with their benefits corresponding to the new ranks. Annual stipends were limited to fifteen years for cases of combat deaths, eight years for those who died while on duty, seven years for those with first-degree injuries, five years for those with second-degree injuries, and three years for those with third-degree injuries. Injured servicemen who died with certain time frames would be honored as having died while on duty. In a revision made in July 1928, the state extended the length of annual stipends to twenty years for those who died in combat and to ten years for those who died while on duty.47 Although most of the regulations covered only the National Revolutionary Army, the government also granted honors to self-defense militias and gentry-led troops as a way to integrate local and central authorities. By 1935 the central government recorded 878 militiamen who were eligible for national honors.48 Among them was 35-year-old Zhang Jiachun, militia vice-captain in Hubei’s Shishou County, who led his troops against the “Communist bandits” for months and engaged in numerous deadly battles. The so-called bandits, who outnumbered the county militia troops, caught Zhang, tied him up, and took him to the Guandi Temple. There in front of the villagers they cut up his genitals, then his nose and eyes, and opened up his stomach. The captors then severed his head, put it on display to intimidate the locals, and threw the rest of his body into the wilderness. Under the cover of the night, some villagers furtively gathered his body parts and buried them. Because of Zhang’s heroic demise, the county officials sent his case to the provincial government. The case traveled to the Ministry of the Interior, the Executive Yuan, and the national government. Knowing that the Zhang family had already been compensated according to the provincial Revised Hubei Village-Cleansing Officer and Soldier Compensation Regulations, the Nationalist government added another eighty yuan, which was the highest amount stipulated in the national Jiangxi Fujian Hunan Hubei Counties SelfDefense Anti-Communist Militia Officer and Militiaman Honor Conferral and Bereaved Family Preferential Treatment Measure.49 This national measure stipulated the amounts of stipend from forty to eighty yuan for militia officers and twenty to forty yuan for militia members. The sums represented a gesture of recognition from the central government. The same measure was applicable to areas beyond the four provinces when the Communist forces traveled through other parts of China. In 1936 the Nationalist government used this measure to commemorate local gentry in Pingyue County, Guizhou, who died at the hand of the Communist troops

600

500

400

300

150

130

120

100

80 80

Captain

Lieutenant

Second lieutenant

Warrant officer

Sergeant

Staff sergeant

Corporal

Private

Private first class Private second class

30 30

40

50

60

80

100

200

300

350

400

450

500

600

700

800

55 55

60

65

80

90

100

150

200

250

350

400

500

600

700

800

20 20

25

30

40

50

90

100

120

150

200

250

300

400

450

500

60 60

80

90

100

120

150

200

300

400

500

600

700

800

900

1,000

ONE-TIME STIPEND

20 20

30

40

60

80

100

200

250

300

350

400

450

500

550

600

ANNUAL STIPEND

DEATH FROM ILLNESS BECAUSE OF OVERWORK

Source: Adapted from Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050164.

800

1,000

Colonel

Major

1,500

Major general

900

2,000

Lieutenant colonel

3,000

Lieutenant general

ONE-TIME STIPEND

ANNUAL STIPEND

ONE-TIME STIPEND

DEATH IN COMBAT

ANNUAL STIPEND

DEATH WHILE ON DUTY

60 60

80

90

100

120

200

300

350

400

500

600

700

800

900

1,000

ANNUAL STIPEND

FIRST-GRADE INJURY

50 50

60

65

70

80

100

200

250

300

350

450

550

600

700

800

ANNUAL STIPEND

SECOND-GRADE INJURY

Stipend scale from the 1928 Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations (in yuan)

General

Table 3.1.

30 30

35

40

45

50

70

100

120

150

200

250

300

400

500

600

ANNUAL STIPEND

THIRD-GRADE INJURY

250

200

100

Second lieutenant

Warrant officer

Sergeant

30 30

35

40

50

70

100

130

160

200

250

300

350

400

500

600

35 35

45

50

60

80

100

140

180

240

300

350

400

500

600

700

25 25

25

30

35

40

60

80

100

130

160

200

250

300

350

400

20–30 20–30

20–35

25–40

30–45

35–50

50–70

70–100

90–120

110–150

130–250

160–250

200–300

250–350

360–400

350–450

ONE-TIME STIPEND

25–35 25–35

25–45

30–50

35–60

40–80

60–100

80–140

100–180

130–240

160–300

200–350

250–400

300–500

350–600

400–700

SPECIAL ONE-TIME STIPEND

DEATH FROM ILLNESS BECAUSE OF OVERWORK

Source: Adapted from Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050164.

70

300

Lieutenant

60 50

350

Captain

Private first class Private second class

400

Major

Private

500

Lieutenant colonel

80

600

Colonel

Corporal

700

Major general

90

800

Staff sergeant

900

Lieutenant general

ONE-TIME STIPEND

ANNUAL STIPEND

ONE-TIME STIPEND

DEATH IN COMBAT

ANNUAL STIPEND

DEATH WHILE ON DUTY

30 30

35

40

45

50

70

100

120

150

200

250

300

350

400

450

ANNUAL STIPEND

FIRST-GRADE INJURY

25 25

25

30

35

40

60

80

100

130

160

200

250

300

350

400

ANNUAL STIPEND

SECOND-GRADE INJURY

Stipend scale according to the 1928 Provisional Peacetime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations (in yuan)

General

Table 3.2.

20 20

20

25

30

35

50

70

90

110

130

160

200

250

300

350

ANNUAL STIPEND

THIRD-GRADE INJURY

100

C H A PT E R 3

on the Long March (1934–1935). According to the record, sixty-seven-yearold Tan Dexiang was killed while cursing the enemy, sixty-three-year-old Liu Shangheng was captured and executed, sixty-five-year-old Hu Jixiang had his throat cut, forty-two-year-old Liu Minjie jumped off a high wall to his death while trying to be flee, seventy-two-year-old Liu Jiqing was hung up by a rope, forty-four-year-old Liu Liangsheng was set on fire, and twentyfive-year-old Yuan Xingbei was buried alive. The Nationalist government approved their commendations, but left specificities to the provincial government to decide.50 For many, the compensation decrees and stipend certificates issued by the Nationalist government did not guarantee payments. The main reason was that there was no official budget for compensating the dead nor any central bureau to coordinate the logistics of distribution. Stipends were financed from both central and local sources. The Nationalist Party’s Central Compensation Committee and local party branches were responsible for disbursing stipends to party members. For cases of anti-imperial revolutionaries, Revolutionary Alliance members, and Nationalist Party members who died before 1925, the national government initially ordered provincial, municipal, and county governments to disburse payments for cases under their jurisdiction from their own treasuries. In 1935, the national government instructed the Central Executive Committee to use party membership fees to compensate cases that had occurred before the establishment of the Nanjing government on October 10, 1928. Such cases included the Yellow Flower Hill uprising and the Jinan Incident of May 3, 1928—a military clash between the National Revolutionary Army and the Imperial Japanese Army in Jinan, Shandong.51 The Ministry of Military Administration (1928–1946), the Military Affairs Commission (1925–1932, 1938–1946), and the Ministry of Defense (Guofang bu) (1946–1949) were in charge of compensating servicemen. Exceptional cases of local militiamen were paid either from the National Treasury or from taxes collected by provincial governments. The Ministry of Finance was responsible for the stipends of government officials. Families of bureaucrats and officers who were Nationalist Party members could also appeal to the Central Executive Committee for compensation. Many cases were shuffled between bureaus without being resolved. Given the nominal control of the Nationalist government in most provinces, Nanjing regularly failed to enforce its compensation decrees. Some petitions were satisfactorily addressed after the national government repeatedly ordered local authorities to dispense the benefits, whereas other cases required Nanjing to open the National Treasury. The outcome of petitions depended on the relationship between local authorities and the central government, the

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prominence of the martyrs, and the political backing for involved parties. The following case of a Yellow Flower Hill martyr illustrates some of these issues. In 1928, the Nationalist government awarded three sons of Wei Tongling (1877–1911) 600 big dollars or silver dollars (dayang) as an annual stipend.52 However, they received from the Guangxi provincial government only 300 small dollars or silver coins (xiaoyang), one of which equaled about threequarters of a big dollar.53 Five days after receiving the petition, the national government promptly drafted an official communication, attached the Wei family’s letter, and ordered Guangxi to address the complaint.54 It was fortunate for the Wei family that two Guangxi leaders, Li Zongren (1890–1969) and Bai Chongxi, who had allied with Chiang Kai-shek during the Northern Expedition, were on good terms with Nanjing in 1928.55 The Guangxi provincial government replied that all Yellow Flower Hill martyrs had previously been awarded 300 small dollars a year. The province pledged to comply with the revised regulations and increase the Wei family’s stipend to 600 big dollars.56 The Zhao family in Sichuan was not as fortunate. On March 18, 1926, Zhao Zhongquan, a promising university student, was killed in an antiwarlord and anti-imperial demonstration in Beijing. Zhao’s death devastated his wife, who became depressed and passed away soon after. The wife left behind a male heir to Zhao’s parents in their dotage. In 1928, the seventy-year-old father, Zhao Yuanliang, brought the case to the national government, which promptly sent him a certificate to collect an annual stipend of 400 yuan. He was instructed to collect the stipend on behalf of the martyr’s heir from Sichuan Province’s Department of Finance. However, the Zhao family did not receive any funds because the province, though accepting the authority of Nanjing, was under the control of a group of skirmishing regional leaders— the Sichuan Clique. A few years passed by, and Zhao Yuanliang reminded the Nationalist government of its promise.57 In response, the Executive Yuan issued another decree to Sichuan Province, but to no avail.58 The Nationalists only gained power in Sichuan when they evacuated to Chongqing during the War of Resistance. In other similar cases of prominent martyrs, the central government decided to fulfill its promises by paying from the National Treasury rather than wrangling with provincial authorities. The heir of the well-known assassin-revolutionary Wu Yue was unable to collect any money from Tongcheng County in Anhui for two years after the Nationalist government granted him the first-rate annual stipend of 600 yuan.59 The central government stepped in and ordered the county to disburse the money. However,

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the Tongcheng County head said that he did not have funds for this expense. To close the case, the Executive Yuan instructed the Ministry of the Interior to issue Wu Yue’s heir 1,200 yuan.60 In another instance, Wei Zelin from Pingnan County in Guangxi petitioned on behalf of his adopted father, Wei Rongchu (1884–1911), a Yellow Flower Hill martyr. The martyr’s heir had not received any of the allotted annual stipend of 600 yuan from 1927 to 1932, a total of 3,900 yuan.61 The case was satisfactorily closed in 1937 when the central government approved a disbursement of 3,000 yuan from the National Treasury.62 Such decisions helped save the Nationalist government from exposing its weak control over local authorities outside its core territory. Even when it came to its southern base of Guangdong, the Nationalist government had trouble exerting power. Xie Kezhi, the eighty-three-year-old father of Xie Guonan, who had been killed for his involvement in the Wuchang uprising, was awarded the third-rate annual stipend of 200 yuan in 1929. Xie Kezhi was issued a certificate and told to collect the stipend himself. The Nanjing government also instructed the Guangdong provincial government to take care of the matter.63 However, as Xie Kezhi had a hard time going to the provincial capital to receive the stipend, the provincial government ordered Lianping County, where Xie resided, to disburse the compensation instead. But when Xie tried to collect his stipend, the Lianping County head rejected the claim on the basis that the county did not budget for such expenses. Unable to collect his benefit locally, Xie looked up the Party Member Compensation Regulations and found a clause that clearly stated: “If the central government authorizes the compensation, the fund will be disbursed by the central government.” Xie used this clause to file another petition, requesting disbursement directly from the national government. He also asked the Nationalist Party’s Executive Committee in Guangdong to exert its leverage with the central authority in Nanjing.64 Responding to the Executive Yuan’s order to investigate, the Guangdong provincial government reported that it had “lodged a complaint against the Lianping county head,” but did not indicate whether Xie would receive his allotted sum.65 Allocating benefits to fallen soldiers became logistically and financially challenging at the onset of the Japanese invasion. In December 1933, He Yingqin (1890–1987), as minister of military administration, petitioned the Executive Yuan for 2 million yuan to compensate anti-Japanese fighters who were natives of four northeastern provinces (Liaoning, Jilin, Heilongjiang, and Rehe). On average, each case should have received 100 yuan. He reported that the ministry had received records of 14,104 dead and injured servicemembers whose families had been compensated, whereas over 60,000 fallen

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and wounded soldiers in the war with Japan were still waiting for assistance. Soldiers from the four northeastern provinces under the Japanese occupation took up one-third of the 60,000 fatalities. According to the Ministry of Military Administration’s plan, compensation cases would be submitted and reviewed during the first half of the year. Stipends would be distributed during the second half of the year. In addition, recipients qualified for both annual and one-time payments would have to wait until the following year to begin to receive their annual portions. As the result, over 20,000 families were expecting compensation. He Yingqin thus proposed that the Military Affairs Commission’s Beiping Office be in charge of receiving 2 million yuan from the Ministry of Finance and of finding a way to distribute stipends to the 20,000 eligible cases in the northeast. He also proposed the Provisional Anti-Japanese Fallen Servicemember Advanced Stipend Measure, which was later promulgated in 1934. The measure recommended that bereaved families of soldiers from the northeastern provinces receive 100 percent of their benefits and those from other provinces 50 percent.66 The Executive Yuan approved and forwarded He’s proposal to the Ministry of Finance. Chen Qicai (1880–1954), the head of the Accounting Office, responded that the Ministry of Finance could only advance 100,000 yuan, or 5 percent of the amount requested by He Yingqin. The Accounting Office proposed that the Military Affairs Commission be made responsible for compensating soldiers of anti-Communist and anti-Japanese campaigns because stipends for these cases fell under “expenditures for emergency” (feichang jingfei).67 The national government agreed with the Ministry of Finance that the request for 2 million yuan to distribute as advance stipends was too high. In fact, the national compensation budget in 1933 was 4 million yuan for all cases of civil and military officials.68 Ultimately, how much of the 100,000 yuan reached bereaved families and injured soldiers is unclear. To further facilitate the compensation of the war dead, He Jian (1887–1956), head of the Military Affairs Commission, formed the Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee ( Junshi weiyuanhui fuxu weiyuanhui) in 1938. The committee conducted research on compensation systems in the England, France, and the United States to find proper ways to take care of bereaved families. He Jian issued a condolence letter to families of fallen servicemen in 1939, promising that no matter how difficult the financial situation was, stipends for fallen officers’ and soldiers’ families would be disbursed. Nonetheless, even if benefits had been promptly disbursed, families of petty officers and soldiers would not have been able to provide for themselves. Referring to the stipend scales for fallen and injured servicemembers, He Jian acknowledged that twenty to fifty yuan a year was

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not sufficient to “sustain” (yang), let alone “educate” (jiao) martyrs’ families. He proposed to grant bereaved relatives land to farm, to build factories to create jobs, and to open martyrs’ offspring schools. Parents of fallen soldiers could return to their former occupations. Children would attend school free of charge. For widows and other female relatives, He Jian imagined that any occupation in the textile industry, such as spinning, weaning, knitting, making hosiery, dyeing, and embroidering would be suitable.69 However, such ambitious projects required the kind of funding that the Nationalist government during wartime could not shoulder.

Revolutionary Privileges Although many stipend certificates issued were uncollectable and many families of common soldiers received next to nothing in exchange for lost lives, some relatives of high-ranking members from the privileged strata—party members, military officers, and government officials—enjoyed extraordinary accommodations. Such disparity among ranks of martyrdom did not bode well for those who received less. Many families of high-profile revolutionary dead were not subjected to the parameters of the compensation regulations and were awarded amounts many times more than the standard stipend. The state paid large sums for funerals and shrines and for overseas educational and living expenses of martyrs’ offspring, as seen in the case of Cai E at the beginning of this chapter. Martyrs from the 1911 uprisings and anti–Yuan Shikai campaigns, as well as those in Sun Yat-sen–affiliated organizations, received special privileges. Contrary to Wang Shijie’s 1927 vision of equal rewards for party members and non–party members who contributed to the nation, the state effectively created a nobility with the new compensation law for revolutionary martyrs and their families issued in 1927–1928. The extent of revolutionary privileges is further illustrated in the case of the children of Huang Xing, one of the most prominent Revolutionary Alliance members. Unlike Sun Yat-sen and Chiang Kai-shek, who formally divorced their first wives from arranged marriages, Huang Xing openly maintained a polygamous household. Huang had five children with his first and formal wife, Liao Danru (1873–1939), who was reportedly illiterate and had bound feet. Huang’s second companion was Xu Zonghan (1876–1944), a revolutionary whom he met during the 1911 Revolution. Xu had two children from her first marriage to an official and bore two more with Huang Xing.70 In 1927 Xu Zonghan (sometimes taking Huang as her last name in legal documents), as the head of the Huang household, was granted a monthly

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stipend of 600 yuan in silver dollars to cover tuition for Huang Xing’s second, third, and fourth sons, Yimei, Yizhong, and Yiqiu. The first two were born to his first wife, Liao Danru, and the third to Xu Zonghan.71 In addition, in 1922, Huang Xing’s eldest daughter, Zhenhua (born to Liao Danru) who attended an unnamed US university, fell ill and withdrew without completing her degree. In 1927 when Huang Zhenhua wanted to renew her studies at the University of Pennsylvania, her stepmother, Xu Zonghan, petitioned on her behalf. Zhenhua received an additional stipend of 7,200 yuan to continue her studies.72 However, after the Ministry of Finance disbursed 1,200 yuan for March, April, and May 1927, no more was forthcoming. In 1934, Xu Zonghan sent another request on behalf of Huang Xing’s two sons, Yimei and Yiqiu, for an annual amount of 4,000 yuan to pursue their education. Xu lamented, “At the time of my husband’s death, my older son, Yimei, was three years old, and my younger son, Yiqiu, was five days old. While I felt distraught [about my late husband], I felt even more distraught about the young orphans. I have endured hardship and striven beyond my ability to raise and educate them for over ten years.”73 As the two grown sons went on to study in France and Germany, Xu pleaded with the government to promptly disburse the benefit previously promised to the Huang family. After the Southwest Political Committee (Xi’nan zhengwu weiyuanhui) forwarded Xu’s petition and added prominent politicians to the list of guarantors, the national government urged the Executive Yuan to resolve the issue. The Accounting Office calculated and arrived at a substantial sum: 43,200 yuan (for Yimei, 4,320 yuan annually for three years, and for Yiqiu, 5,040 yuan annually for six years). The national government then used the education and culture fund (jiaoyu wenhua kuan) to pay exorbitant tuition fees for the education of martyrs’ offspring.74 Although the compensation regulations stipulated that martyrs’ children and younger siblings be eligible for tuition waivers before they came of age, the government made a few exceptions. Other cases of martyrs’ offspring studying abroad included children of Zhu Zhixin, a revolutionary veteran and coauthor of the 1922 Huanghuagang. Each of Zhu’s three adult daughters and one son received 7,200 yuan a year from the Nationalist government.75 Wu Luzhen, a 1911 Revolution martyr, also had three daughters and one son, who graduated from universities in China and went on to study in the United States and Europe from 1928 to 1940. The government awarded each of Wu’s four children 1,800 US dollars (7,200 yuan) a year.76 The son of Yang Shuzhuang (1882–1934), a Huangpu Academy graduate and navy admiral, requested 3,960 yuan to continue his studies in Europe. The Central Political Council approved 3,000 yuan to be paid out of the education and culture

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fund and ordered the Fujian provincial government to come up with the rest.77 This amount was twelve times the first-rate annual stipend for party members and eight times the annual stipend for a general who died in combat during wartime. Although education for children of fallen servicemen was a priority of the Nationalist regime, those who benefited from this policy were in the minority. At the end of the Northern Expedition, Chiang Kai-shek proposed to build a school in Nanjing for fallen National Revolutionary Army servicemen’s children and younger siblings.78 The preparatory committee included many high-ranking government officials, well-known educators, and spouses of prominent politicians.79 Sun Yat-sen’s widow, Soong Ching-ling (1893–1981), was named the school president. The school, built near the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum, enrolled the first batch of kindergarteners and elementary school students in 1929, and planned to offer middle school classes in 1930. The construction cost 300,000 yuan, which was funded by contributions from the Nationalist Party, rental of school buildings, interest from bank deposits, and taxes from the eastern part of the Longhai railway.80 Provincial governments, the Ministry of Military Administration, and organizations such as the Huangpu Alumni Association conducted surveys and provided information about potential students. In 1932, the school claimed that it enrolled students from seventeen provinces, including distant ones such as Suiyuan. Most came from Hunan and Zhejiang. The majority were sons and daughters of fallen servicemen, but some were younger siblings, nieces, and nephews. The youngest was six years old and the oldest twenty-two. Each student’s tuition was waived. The students were even provided with necessities and school supplies. The school reported that as of 1932, it had 298 students and 56 teaching and administrative staff.81 Although the number of students was modest compared to the number of martyrs’ offspring and siblings, the school demonstrated its mission of molding martyrs’ children into ideal citizens of the new republic. The school motto included “instilling physical labor into everyday life, discipline into the students’ behaviors, revolutionary spirit in their mentality, martiality into their physique, scientism into their thoughts, arts into their field of interests, sociability into their way of association, and sense of familial ties into their school life.”82 Part of the partification (dang hua) movement during the Republican period, this institution aimed at “exposing students to the ideology of the Nationalist Party through listening to lectures, organizing research societies, commemorating Sun Yat-sen, establishing the Three Principles of the People curriculum, practicing the Four Powers of the People [suffrage, recall, initiative, and referendum], and generally emerging in a partified environment.”83

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The school also organized military drills for all students, and boy scout troops and voluntary troops for male students.84 The school not only served as shelter for orphans but also a model of Nationalist education, with emphasis on both ideological and physical fitness. The Nationalist government had other ambitious plans to provide for martyrs’ families beyond stipends. After the First Shanghai War in 1932, the Ministry of Military Administration recommended two measures: the International War Meritorious Army, Navy, and Air Force Servicemember Compensation and Encouragement Measure and the International War Army and Air Force Servicemember Preferential Compensation Measure. These measures promised the construction of rehabilitation centers for servicemembers with disabilities and the issuance of tuition waivers to all war orphans.85 At the same time, Xu Shiying (1873–1964), who was in charge of nationwide economic relief, led a group of politicians to form the National Defense Fallen Officers’ and Soldiers’ Family Compensation and Education Committee (Weiguo zhenwang jiangshi yizu fuyu hui). In 1932, Xu and others also appealed to the Nationalist government to care for the wellbeing of bereaved families of fallen servicemembers of the Nineteenth Route Army and the Eighty-Eighth Division of the Fifth Army, which fought in the Mukden Incident and the First Shanghai War.86 Xu began the petition by stating how taking care of the dead and their families had been a tradition since the Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 BCE) and how “consoling the dead and supporting the living could cleanse the spirit and transform people’s hearts.”87 The committee’s initial mission would be to raise money through membership fees to provide for relatives of soldiers who died during the First Shanghai War. The committee bylaws drafted in May 1932 included proposals to build nursing homes for bereaved parents over sixty years old and those without any means of livelihood, chastity halls for widows, and vocational schools and universities for underage children and siblings of martyrs. The committee planned to build factories and establish businesses to employ martyrs’ family members. In the countryside, the committee would build martyrs’ villages (zhonglie cun) for bereaved families who wanted to pursue farming.88 The national government approved the plan and sent it to the Executive Yuan for execution.89 The paper trail ended with no clear outcome.

Discontent Although many plans that catered to the majority of war martyrs were unrealized in the 1940s, the Nationalist government received and approved

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some peculiar requests from offspring of esteemed revolutionaries. The most incredible entreaty came from Song Jiaoren’s son, Song Chenlu, who informed the Nationalist government about his personal debts. When Chenlu studied in Japan, he had to borrow 1,500 yuan to complete his studies. Returning to China without a job, he had to borrow another 1,500 yuan from friends. Chenlu did not mention his own career prospects, yet he expressed filial desires to publish his father’s posthumous works and repair his mother’s grave. He petitioned the government for 5,000 yuan to pay his debts and to realize his plans to honor his parents. Urged by the Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee, the national government approved to send Chenlu 3,000 yuan, but on the grounds that he would use it to “renovate his father’s grave.”90 Song Jiaoren’s reputation was a major factor in this positive outcome. Similar compensation decrees, when published in various government gazettes, raised questions about the priorities of the state. Revolutionary privileges bred discontent from the lower strata of revolutionary relatives who received less and felt entitled to more. In 1930, Cheng Ronggan petitioned on behalf of his father Cheng Yaochen, a Qing military officer turned supporter of Sun Yat-sen’s Republicanism. During the 1895 Guangzhou uprising, he was captured and tortured by the Qing government. Given that Ronggan had already come of age, he was only approved for a one-time stipend of 500 yuan in 1928. The petitioner was palpably displeased because, as he put it, “a measly 500 yuan was not enough to console the loyal spirit of my father!”91 Cheng also cited numerous instances of extraordinarily generous stipends published in issues of the Guomin zhengfu gongbao (National Government Gazette). He pointed out that the Nationalist government had previously awarded 60,000 yuan to Xiong Chengji’s (1887–1910) family and 10,000 yuan to the revolutionary Fan Hongxian’s family. Bereaved relatives of Peng Shousong (1866–1918), one of the revolutionary veterans who joined the Revolutionary Alliance and laid the groundwork for the Nationalist Party in Fuzhou, received the first-rate annual stipend of 600 yuan, along with 500 yuan for grave renovation.92 In addition, not only Peng Shousong’s children but one of his daughters-in-law also received tuition waivers. Cheng Ronggan also brought up the examples of Xu Xiujun (1879–1913), a 1913 Revolution martyr from Jiangxi, who was awarded an annual stipend of 600 yuan and a one-time stipend of 1,000 yuan, and Yu Xinggen (?–1920), a 1911 Revolution participant, who was given 600 yuan a year and burial fees of 2,000 yuan. After presenting all the precedents, Cheng asserted that his father contributed no less than any of the aforementioned revolutionaries. However, he did not desire such extraordinary sums, just the highest amounts stipulated in the Party Member Compensation Regulations.

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As such, he requested a first-rate one-time stipend of 1,000 yuan, an 800yuan annual stipend, tuition waivers, and burial expenses. To his chagrin, his petition was rejected by the national government, which forwarded his case to the Central Compensation Committee for a second review.93 The review likely amounted to nothing, given the case’s dismissal by the national government. The indignant attitude of Cheng Yaochen was certainly not well received by the government. Conflicts also arose in circumstances when the decision to grant national honors was questioned. During the 1936 Xi’an Incident (during which Chiang Kai-shek was kidnapped by his own associates and forced to form a united front with the Communist Party), Shao Yuanchong (1890–1936), a notable Nationalist official, tried to climb the wall to escape. Unfortunately, he fell and died two days later. Shao had been a private secretary to Sun Yatsen and a lecturer at the Huangpu Military Academy. He had gone on to hold various vital posts in the Nationalist government, including vice president of the Legislative Yuan, first chairman of the National History Bureau, and secretary-general of Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The national government proposed a state funeral (guozang) for Shao, despite the protest from relatives of Peng Jiazhen that Shao’s death while fleeing was “as light as a feather.” They argued that such a trivial death was not in line with the 1928 State Funeral Law, and thus Shao’s funeral should not be carried out according to the ceremony dictated by the 1930 State Funeral Ritual. By contrast, the killing of Chiang Kai-shek’s nephew and bodyguard, Jiang Xiaoxian, during the incident was as “heavy as Mountain Tai”—a glorious death. Shao’s death needed no recognition, and by honoring it with a state funeral, the government degraded other martyrs’ deaths.94 Du Xi (1880–1936), a member of the Revolutionary Alliance in its early days and member of the Control Yuan, jumped into Xuanwu Lake on the day of the Lantern Festival, mimicking the suicide of Qu Yuan. Days before his death, Du starved himself and wrote farewell letters to his friends expressing his “anger with national affairs.” Although Du’s death was not a consequence of his contribution to the party or the nation, the Control Yuan petitioned to the national government to honor him. The national government chairman, Lin Sen, raised the question whether Du’s suicide merited the honor of martyrdom and sent the petition to the Nationalist Party’s Central Political Council for evaluation. The council recommended commending Du Xi for his “pure ambition and conduct, profound thought and knowledge” (zhi xing chunjie, shi lü shenchen) and recommended spending 10,000 yuan for his public funeral and 10,000 yuan as compensation for his family, as well as having his biography compiled by the Party History Bureau. The central

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government approved the recommendation, noting that Du “died from worry and indignation” (youfen juanqu). His public funeral, which was held in Nanjing First Public Park Martyrs’ Shrine in June 1936, was attended by high-ranking government officials.95 This decision to commemorate a suicide did not fare well among the public at a time when the Nationalist leadership had been criticized for not taking action against the encroaching Japanese Army. Many contributors to the Shenbao were critical of Du’s suicide. One maintained that “suicide because of one’s concern for the nation” (you guo zisha) was worthy, but did not deserve worship and admiration. A hero should have died in an “explosive” (honghonglielie) affair that would have benefited the nation and awakened common people.96 Although acknowledging Du Xi’s love for the nation, a journalist condemned his suicide for causing a negative (xiaoji) impact. Du’s death apparently triggered a fourteen-year-old student to swallow acid.97 Another contributor to the Shenbao called all suicides, including Du Xi’s, not only “acts unworthy of sympathy” but also “crimes though not punishable by law.”98 The Nationalist government did not garner positive public emotion by hailing Du Xi as a martyr. Moreover, writers for the Shenbao made it clear that martyrdom was not strictly a legal matter. There was room for moral and emotional judgment.

Affect The state is not an abstract entity, but it is staffed with bureaucrats who can be influenced by affect—feelings, emotions, and passions.99 When negotiating with the overwhelming power of the political institution, petitioners often resorted to a different range of emotions for better outcomes. Petitions and martyrs’ biographies not only constituted bureaucratic footprints but also documented individual mourning and remembering. Behind stylized expressions of sacrifice and suffering in petition letters, martyrs’ biographies, and elegies were individual voices, unique circumstances, and uncommon dilemmas arising from the experience of total wars. This section examines the experiences of the bereaved in the formation of the nation, the cultivation of citizenship, and the making of profound social changes through the act of petitioning. Many petitioners persuaded the state to fulfill their requests by emphasizing intimate connections to specific martyrs, resorting to emotional bonds when the familial ties were outside the legal stipulations of compensation law. In many cases, the familial and emotional ties that the petitioners claimed to have with the martyrs were similar to the imagined bond that

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people of the same nation-state share with one another. Narrating memories of martyrs sacrificing themselves for the nation and the party bound family members to the ideology of nationalism and to the legitimacy of the party-state. Conversations with the martyrs recorded by petitioners were often infused with revolutionary passion that displayed the supremacy of the party and the devotion to the new cult of nationalism. The stock phrase “die for the party and the nation” that appeared in many petitions became the node of connection between the family and the state in the sense that both sides acknowledged it as the legitimate rationale for the violent demise of the martyrs. Bereaved families made critical contributions to crafting the national history, not only by providing stories of virtuous lives and heroic deaths but also by shaping their narratives to fit state-approved rhetoric. In 1928, Pan Shaolou petitioned on behalf of his late father, Pan Yuelou, a member of the Revolutionary Alliance who was executed during the antiYuan movement of 1913. Although Shaolou was a political tutelage secretary (xunzheng ganshi) of the Nationalist Party Directive Committee (Dangwu zhidao weiyuanhui) in Wuhe County, Anhui, he was eager to display his emotions. Shaolou’s petition in 1928 described in great detail the circumstance of his father’s killing. When the Second Revolution of 1913 failed, Yuelou returned to his native place. Together with some other party member, he engaged in clandestine activities, waiting for the next opportunity to arise. At that time, Ni Sichong (1868–1924), governor of Anhui, sent out thugs to secretly arrest party members in hiding.100 After the scout captain, Cheng Tanxun, caught wind of Yuelou hiding in his hometown, he ordered soldiers to pillage the Pan residence and took Yuelou to the city of Liu’an to torture him in public. According to the petition, hearing about Yuelou’s “spattered blood and torn flesh” (xuerou hengfei), none of the inhabitants of Liu’an could hold back their tears. Such collective sorrow validated the righteousness of the revolutionary martyr. Pan Yuelou became known as a “scholar-gentleman” (shi) among all walks of life in Liu’an, from the gentry, to the merchants, to the learned. They could not bear to witness him dying a violent death and were even willing to stake their own and their families’ lives to rescue him. Cheng Tanxun, afraid that he would lose Ni Sichong’s favor if he failed to deal with the Nationalist Party members strictly, telegraphed the order to immediately execute Yuelou.101 On May 13, 1914, when Yuelou was about to die, “he was all smiles, and shouting, ‘The Revolution will succeed!’ With a loud bang, his brain burst and drops of blood spattered all over the ground—such a tragic scene.” In the aftermath, the tale of Yuelou’s martyrdom became a legend among

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the people of Anhui. Cheng Tanxun was subsequently promoted to police bureau chief of Anhui Province and his household grew wealthier. Ni Sichong, despite his extreme wickedness, lived above the law. By contrast, the Pan family spiraled downward.102 According to Pan Shaolou’s petition, he was only six years old when his father died. His family’s fortune declined to the point that it was “empty like an upturned bell.” Of his sorrow, Shaolou wrote, “Each time I think of my father’s being wronged, I cannot help but burst into tears.” He further lamented, “Whenever I think about my father, I cry until I lose my voice.” His young widowed mother “drowned herself in sorrowful tears.” While the mother and son drifted about, the father’s grave was “desolate and uncared for.” He went on to say that to raise her son, Mrs. Pan took up sewing to earn a livelihood.103 The reference to sewing is noteworthy because textile work was traditionally associated with virtue. In early China, by manifesting the ideal of “the virtuous weaver,” women gained “moral standing in the family, community, and even national politics.”104 Throughout imperial China, textile production taught “both the gender-neutral virtue of filial piety and the more specifically female virtues of thrift, frugality and diligence,” which were essential for both poor and elite households.105 The mention of Mrs. Pan providing for the family with her sewing, like similar references in many imperial-era biographies of virtuous women, reinforced her image as a selfsacrificing mother. She embodied the conventional roles of wife and mother. She, like traditional widows, was depicted in the petition as sorrowful and accepting, whereas Pan Shaolou was indignant or inspired as a young Nationalist Party member. The outcome for Pan Shaolou’s petition was positive. The Nationalist government awarded Shaolou a one-time payment of 800 yuan, given that he was already of age. More important, his father was acknowledged as a martyr.106 As the main perpetrator, Cheng Tanxun, had disappeared without a trace, the provincial government had put up wanted notices. Others were not implicated, and the charges against them were dropped after Shaolou appealed to the government.107 What was notable in Pan Shaolou’s petition was the articulation of personal emotions. Shaolou’s account began with a happy time featuring a coherent family, which was destroyed by political disasters. The Nationalist Party then arrived to save the patriarch-less home from poverty and injustice. This theme is also seen in the following case. In 1928, Yang Guanwu, a student, petitioned for his brother, Yang Bolin, to be recognized as a revolutionary martyr. Guanwu began his narrative with the childhood of him and his three brothers. Their mother, near death, said, “You all should study diligently,” and made them tearful. The

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petition recounted details about the martyr’s younger years: “The village tutors infused in [the brothers] a sense of patriotism and taught them literature from the Han, Tang, Song, and Ming dynasties.”108 The Yuan and Qing dynasties were excluded from the history lesson, as they were regarded as historical periods when foreigners invaded China. Education was an important virtue of Republican revolutionaries, and maternal instructions were a proper source of political rectitude. In his petition, Yang Guanwu recorded his brother’s thoughts in great detail and quoted many of them verbatim. Following his own motto: “Politics can only be made by military action,” Bolin attended Anhui Army School in 1906. Afterward, he graduated from the Beiyang Army Academy in the spring of 1911. At the dawn of the Wuchang uprising, he and a classmate formed the Iron and Blood Army (Tiexue jun) with plans to spread the revolution in the north. When Yuan Shikai took the presidency, Bolin declared: “Instead of supporting Yuan, I would rather revolt.” Shortly after, he felt sick and had to convalesce at home during the spring of 1912. As soon as he recovered, he went back to Beijing. Bolin and his comrades organized armed resistance against the Hongxian Emperor in Shanghai. Bolin said, “I plan to fulfill the wish of those whose relatives died by Yuan Shikai’s orders.” Bolin’s revolutionary career came to an end in 1916 when he died during the battle at Wusong Fort at the age of just thirty-one years old. Guanwu recalled his brother once telling him: “Never share the same sky with Yuan.” Despite all his activities, Bolin’s life had remained in obscurity for over ten years. His brother desired to have him enshrined in the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine to comfort his spirit.109 The conversations in the Yang household were both reiterations of political convictions and statements of familial bonds. The presence of both in the petition letter fused bereavement with patriotism. The petitioners could indeed challenge the official ideology by assuming new prestigious identities as “relatives of revolutionary martyrs” and by recounting their inimitable experiences with revolutionary characters and events. This argument is especially true given that nationalism, virtue, and other ideas can never be neatly packaged and delivered. Mrs. Guo, née Lin, petitioned on behalf of her father-in-law, Guo Dawang, a Yellow Flower Hill martyr. Guo Dawang was one of the participants of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising to have his name excluded from the list of officially recognized martyrs. According to Mrs. Guo’s petition, the Huabao issue of 1931 listed the names of seventy-two martyrs, only to discover later that Guo Dawang’s name had been left out. When this was discovered, it was too late, as the number seventy-two had become part of the canonized history. The petitioner noted that, fortunately, the Fuzhou Martyrs’ Shrine contained

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a short biography of Guo Dawang alongside those of other Yellow Flower Hill martyrs, which could be used as evidence of her father-in-law’s participation. Although the biography contained only thirty characters, Mrs. Guo claimed to know far more about Guo Dawang’s heroic life. She wrote about how his anger for the “pain of the enslaved Han race” under Qing despotism and oppression propelled him to join the Yellow Flower Hill uprising, and how he “charged forward dauntlessly and died in the sanguinary battle.”110 Guo Dawang died when his son, Guo Meiti, was still a young apprentice in the bamboo trade. With prudence, Guo Meiti supported himself with this business, and married Miss Lin in 1928. He often told his wife his father’s history and said, “I regret that I cannot emulate father’s determination or console his spirit by serving the nation.” When he uttered these words, he was “drenched in tears and sobbed with abandon.” His wife also “wept her heart out, committed it to memory, and did not dare forget.” In 1933, Guo Meiti fell ill and died, leaving his widow pregnant with a child (of unknown sex) and with a two-year-old daughter. This misfortune prompted her to demand recognition and compensation from the government. Her case was investigated and verified by the provincial government.111 Mrs. Guo later adopted a son named Guo Shizhong, who was awarded an annual stipend of 900 yuan for fifteen years in 1943.112 It was not the martyr’s son, but Mrs. Guo, the daughter-in-law, who developed political awareness and took the initiative to seek restitution and contribute her knowledge to the history of the Republican revolution. Further, the memory of the martyr was passed down to his daughter-in-law and then his granddaughter, signifying a gendered mode of memory.113 Mrs. Guo’s petition revealed how the Nationalist state had promoted an incomplete account of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising. She made use of the myth of the revolutionary lineage by indicating that her husband, an heir of a Republican martyr, could not follow his father’s political footsteps and had to take up a trade out of economic necessity. In her petition, Mrs. Guo referred to specific times and settings in regard to how she acquired memories about the martyred father-in-law’s life and death circumstance. Mrs. Guo presented an independent account of her father-in-law published in newspapers. She also claimed an emotional attachment, albeit through her husband, to the martyr. In a typical family, the relationship between father-in-law and daughter-in-law is usually the weakest. In Mrs. Guo’s family, it was even more distant, as Guo Dawang died before she married into the Guo family. And yet, Guo Dawang’s martyrdom bound her to his political conviction and to the party and nation for which he died.

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This chapter has examined how the state offered revolutionaries space on the altars of the new Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and vowed to repay the debt of lives. In exchange for their sacrifice, the state pledged to take care of the bereaved families. By compensating bereaved families with such benefits and privileges as annual stipends, tuition waivers, and funeral expenses, the state sought to cultivate allegiance from the living, at least in principle. By compensating the martyrs’ families, the state perpetuated the circle of obligation and reciprocity.114 By receiving death benefits, the bereaved were further indebted to the institution that encouraged the sacrifice of their loved ones’ lives. The politics of compensation also worked to exculpate the state from not working toward mitigating the conditions that led to loss of life.115 Compensation policy for the loyal dead allowed the Nationalist regime under Chiang Kaishek to continue to wage war against political enemies and excused it from carrying out necessary economic reforms for the rest of the population. Unlike the principle of people’s welfare (minsheng) promoted by Sun Yat-sen, the form of welfare provided by the Nationalist regime was political, rather than social, and limited to families of members of the party, the military, and the bureaucracy. The compensatory regime intended to foster political allegiance to the regime and nurture those who professed such devotion. Issuing stipends and waiving tuition for martyrs’ offspring were the way to reproduce the next generations of loyal party members, military officers, and bureaucrats. The compensation laws thus generated dissatisfaction among those who were aware of the discrepancy between the highranking dead and the ordinary dead. One way for families of the ordinary dead to reach the heart of the state was to narrate how they developed the proper sentiment of nationalism through their everyday interaction with the martyrs and their recollections. For the fatalities in the tens of thousands during the anti-imperial movements at the turn of the century, the Nationalist government could afford to actively seek out and compensate bereaved relatives. The financial and logistical burden associated with tens of millions of casualties in the war with the Japanese Imperial Army would have made such a compensation policy impossible for any state to implement, let alone an economically devastated one like the Republic of China.

Ch ap ter 4

Gendering the Republic

“This yet-to-die person [weiwangren] wants to follow my husband in death, yet I have to take care of the heir who must realize his father’s ambitions by studying and repaying the party and the nation,” wrote a Mrs. Wu, née Li, in 1930. Her husband, Wu Shiying, who had organized, trained, and armed Chinese laborers in Shanghai to fight local warlords, was executed in 1923. Seven years later, his widow, reading about the 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations in the Guomin zhengfu gongbao, decided to petition for her husband to be recognized as a martyr and for her son to attend school free of charge. Mrs. Wu asked nothing for herself because, as she put it, she had “spiritually died” after her husband had sacrificed his life. In her words, she “barely held on to life” so as to fulfill her motherly duties of raising and educating the martyr’s heir.1 Mrs. Wu emphasized her wifely virtue, in addition to the compensation regulations stipulating that widows be first in line to collect death compensation, as the basis for receiving assistance from the state. In contrast with the martyrs being honored as if they were still present in this world (chapter 1), martyrs’ widows described themselves as dead or waiting to die. Whereas military martyrs served as models for male citizenship in Republican China, female (proxy) citizenship was modeled on being “good wives and wise mothers”—ideals that fused ancient Chinese ethics with modern nationalist concerns.2 Widows gained social standing because they proved 116

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valuable to the state as upholders of normalcy and virtues during times of chaos. However, they petitioned for the benefit of their offspring, especially male heirs. On this paradox, Joan Judge maintains that although the “appropriation of nationalism does enable women to carve out new subjectivities and act on them in society and politics,” it also “yokes them to the demands of the larger national project.”3 The Nationalist government tried to replicate in the family its political ideals of party exclusivity and military loyalty, which prompted the promulgation of compensation measures. This chapter examines how the republic was gendered in the sense that it differentiated its male and female population. Men were subjected to Confucianized Republican citizenship (chapter 1). Women were subjected to traditional female chastity, now infused with nationalism. The first half of this chapter utilizes a number of petitions from female relatives of revolutionaries who died during various early twentieth-century Republican uprisings, anti–Yuan Shikai movements, the Northern Expedition, and the war against the Communists to illustrate the relationship between the family and the state as reflected in the Nationalist commendation policy. These petitions, submitted to the Nanjing government, place the dead in a web of familial relationships. The martyr was the father, husband, son, elder brother, fatherin-law, elder male cousin, or uncle to the petitioner and the beneficiary named in the petition. The petitioner was the wife, concubine, mother, and occasionally the daughter, daughter-in-law, or sister of the martyr. Although some twentieth-century intellectuals moved away from such kin-inflected terms and toward the gender-binary term nüxing, that shift did not appear in these petitions.4 Female petitioners usually referred to themselves using shi (née) and stated their familial relations with the martyrs at the beginning of the petitions and again in their signatures (if any). The second half of this chapter addresses the changes brought on by the War of Resistance. From the late 1920s to the late 1930s, widows of revolutionaries who had died in anti-imperial uprisings gained autonomy as petitioners and beneficiaries of death stipends. But the huge surge in fatalities during the War of Resistance, the increased bureaucratization of tracking the war dead, and the legal shift that reinforced the priority of the patriarchal family in the late 1930s and 1940s shrank the space for martyrs’ widows to assert their agency. At the same time, some women became martyrs whose deaths proved their ideological allegiance to the state. In most cases, however, female martyrdom continued to be associated with chaste wives and self-sacrificing mothers. That martyrs’ wives (and in many cases, concubines) petitioned for financial assistance on behalf of their late spouses’ male heirs and elderly

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parents, but never for themselves, represented an acknowledgment of the traditional wifely virtues of sacrifice and perseverance. Even though women gained voice as petitioners, traditional concepts of feminine modesty keep them from seeking reward on their own account. Nevertheless, martyrs’ widows benefited from state compensation. Many childless widows of martyrs adopted heirs both as a survival strategy and to preserve their late husbands’ lineages. Widows then petitioned on behalf of their adoptees, projecting images of themselves as helpless and self-sacrificing. Male petitioners also used tropes of widowed mothers to add rhetorical weight to their requests. Even if the case failed to meet the compensation regulations, the state often acknowledged the rhetoric of female sacrifice for the patriline presented in the petition and thus was more likely to accommodate the petitioner’s plea. Petitions like Mrs. Wu’s constitute a genre of archival materials that shed new light on the gender dynamics of modern Chinese society. During the reform movement of the mid-1890s, the plight of Chinese women caught the interest of the growing group of feminist men and women, who linked women’s liberation to the wealth and power of the nation.5 The turn of the century witnessed many additional movements advocating for women’s full political rights and freedom. The revolutionary moment of 1911 opened up possibilities for a political and cultural overhaul, creating opportunities for advocates of women’s rights to pressure Republican leaders to meet their demands.6 With the foundation of the republic in 1912, women’s suffrage activists began to demand the rights to vote and to stand for election on the equal basis with men, and reaped significant successes at both the provincial and national level in the following decades.7 The New Culture movement of the late 1910s and early 1920s condemned the traditional family and advocated individual liberation. By 1928, however, the reformist and revolutionary dynamic of earlier decades had yielded to a relatively stable and centralized government in the southeastern coast, the most progressive region of China. Although the 1930 civil code helped shape women’s roles, marriage, and the family in the following decades, issuance of various compensation laws by the Nationalist government within a few years of its establishment and revisions of said laws in response to the full-blown war with Japan were no less critical in shaping gender and society in modern China.8 Furthermore, the governmentled New Life movement, which promoted modern civic behaviors and ways of thinking, replaced the intellectual-led New Culture movement. The subsequent total war throughout China further dampened the fire of radical social and cultural reforms. Moral norms, such as not remarrying after

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being widowed and maintaining the patriline, remained embedded in the legal institutions of the new republic. In turn, many women’s petitions were couched in the language of duties rather than rights.

The Politics of Chastity In China, female chastity had served the economic and political interests of the state and the social elites since the tenth century CE. As widows could return to their natal families with their original dowries and property accumulated during marriage, Neo-Confucian scholars celebrated the virtues of those who remained in their late husbands’ homes and used their dowries for their husbands’ families. The social upheaval surrounding the Mongol invasion in the thirteenth century CE and marriage and inheritance practices from the Eurasian steppe that challenged the Chinese family hierarchy prompted a drastic rethinking of traditional Chinese notions of women, marriage, and property. For instance, the Yuan state (1271–1368 CE) institutionalized marriage as a permanent transfer of a woman and her property to her husband’s lineage, rewarding widows’ chastity with support while prohibiting widows from taking any property with them when they returned to their natal homes or remarried.9 These restrictions surrounding marriage and widowhood became even more prominent in the Ming dynasty. Extreme practices, such as following a husband in death, were also widespread. Literati composed biographies of and eulogies for chaste women. At the end of the Ming era, literature about suicidal widows and maidens became infused with qing (passion or sentiment), an ideal of cultural sensibility. Writers and readers celebrated these women for their defiance of family elders in relinquishing their lives and responsibilities to fulfill their romantic devotion to their husbands and fiancés. Female chastity gained further political importance in the Qing era, when “the passionate conjugal devotion of the chastity martyr had become the dominant metaphor for literati loyalty to the dying Ming regime.”10 The culture of qing, which dominated late Ming culture (from the late sixteenth to the early seventeenth century CE), was suppressed by the statesponsored “familistic moralism” in the high Qing period (from the late seventeenth to the early nineteenth century), according to Susan Mann.11 The Qing government took aim at “family relations,” promoting female chastity while curtailing erotic arts and trade from the Ming era. The Qing state enshrined and memorialized chaste women with commemorative tablets and regular sacrifices.12 Emperors of the high Qing period promoted feminine chastity among both Han and Manchu women. According to Mark

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Elliott, these emperors did not see embracing the Confucian ideal of the chaste widow as threatening Manchu prowess, whereas they feared that the adoption of many Han practices by Manchu males did.13 Matthew Sommer shows that Ming-Qing law granted “widows the strongest rights of any women with regard to property and independence” as long as they remained chaste, as sexual loyalty was tied to political loyalty in imperial ideology.14 Within the shift toward patrilineal familism, women gained a new form of personhood by using “dominant precepts about their educational and moral roles in the family to shape emotionally and intellectually fulfilling lives for themselves.”15 This shift toward familistic moralism set the foundation for the Republican view of feminine virtues.16 Interest in chaste widows did not die out with the formation of the republic, the new state’s commendation and compensation regulations show. In the 1914 Commendation Regulations promulgated by the Beiyang government, “chaste behaviors sufficient to inspire others [to emulate]” was one of the nine categories of laudable conducts.17 Even after 1930, when chaste women were no longer explicitly lauded, petitions from local governments relied on the first category of laudable conducts, “moral behaviors of extraordinary quality,” in the 1931 Commendation Regulations to request honor tablets for steadfast widowhood and other forms of chastity.18 Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, the Nanjing government published countless reports of widows who remained chaste or committed suicide following their husbands’ deaths.19 Widow chastity gained new attention in Republican China in conjunction with the rise of revolutionary and military martyrdom. The state supported the feminine virtues of celibacy and commitment to children not only to encourage acts of sacrifice on the battlefield but also to ensure the survival of the family in the absence of the providing patriarch. The Nationalist government therefore implemented various compensation measures that provided widows and orphans with financial assistance. Although compensation measures did not explicitly demand virtues from compensation recipients, in practice petitioners frequently used feminine virtues in negotiating for a positive outcome. The Nationalist regime created an intimate state-family relation based on a negotiation of performative virtue. Although the early twentieth century witnessed a rise in the nuclear family, love marriages, and women’s education in coastal cities, conservative visions of patriarchal gender roles continued to dominate in China’s vast hinterland and to be supported by the state in significant ways. Contrary to the view that the New Culture movement of the 1910s and 1920s was a nationwide revolution upending traditional Chinese society, traditional virtues were integral to the new republic. Petitioners seeking

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compensation portrayed themselves in line with the state’s rhetoric regarding the virtuous. Participating in the negotiation of virtue with the state, Chinese women allowed their status in the new nation-state to be defined not only by legal institutions but also by traditional moral code. The petition cases presented here advance understanding of the paradoxical gender relations in twentieth-century China. Other scholars offer revisionist perspectives on the ways social and political movements preserved traditional gender roles. Susan Glosser shows that though the young urban intellectuals of the New Culture movement intended to reform the family to strengthen the nation, their political goal ironically turned their attempt to restructure Chinese culture into a recycling of traditional cultural elements.20 Conservatism was amplified in the Communist era. The Communists perpetuated the highly patriarchal social transactions already embedded in Chinese rural culture.21 During the Maoist era, the glorification of martial sacrifice could not protect military families—mostly consisting of wives and mothers—from male-dominated village politics. Controlling access to welfare provisions, some local officials sexually exploited soldiers’ wives.22 Although advocating for women’s rights in the city, the Chinese Communist Party from the 1920s to the 1940s prioritized peasants’ desire to retain the traditional family, compromising family reform and gender equality.23 I disagree, however, with scholars who view such penetration of the state into the family and perpetuation of Confucian ethics as subjugating Chinese women. Women supported the state-sponsored Confucian moral universe because Confucian ethics gave them a sense of personhood and set standards that enabled them to achieve self-actualization and exaltation. Furthermore, Gail Hershatter argues how rural women carrying out Communist campaigns in the community and the family during the 1950s and 1960s.24 Similarly, Republican-era women, in the absence of their fathers, husbands, and sons, engaged with the state, navigated its bureaucracy, and facilitated political power’s reach into the familial and personal spheres. Petitioners often described revolutionaries as neglecting their families while contributing their utmost to the nation. As these martyrs were overwhelmingly in their teens, twenties, or early thirties, they were likely to have spouses, underage children, and living parents. This was particularly true given that they were from the middle and upper classes; they had the resources to marry and their families lived longer because of better nutrition and health care. Such demographic components led to a particular family dynamic. The Nationalist government envisioned a middle-class father who provided for his home-making wife and children in exchange for loyalty

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and deference. When the father was absent, the state took over, extracting the same paternal affection and obedience, and dispensing allowances and bonuses. The government’s intervention created a ruling class bounded by state-sponsored moral and financial welfare. The patriarchal state became even more prominent in the early People’s Republic era, providing families of cadres with housing, nannies, education, food, and entertainment allotments. Many studies that address the dynamic of women’s agency in traditionally conservative societies inform my discussion of martyrs’ widows. Saba Mahmood argues that the Muslim women who participate in contemporary Islamist movements “are summoned to recognize themselves in terms of the virtues and codes of these traditions, and they come to measure themselves against the ideals furbished by these traditions; in this important sense, the individual is contingently made possible by the discursive logic of the ethical traditions she enacts.”25 Stephanie McCurry shows how during the American Civil War, a group of Confederate women defined themselves not as citizens in relation to the state, but as “a poor wife,” “a poor widow,” or “a female subject” to bargain for state support.26 Jisoo Kim, in her study of women’s petitions in early modern Korea, captures the tension in narratives of women’s petitions: “Appealing to redress grievance at some times reinforced the gender hierarchy but at other times manifested in a powerful form of female agency.”27 Korean women were knowledgeable about narratives that reinforced gender norms and they made use of such norms to take advantage of the legal system. Regarding the morality element in Chinese law, Philip Huang argues that the legal insistence on chastity for women indicated that women in the Qing dynasty were allowed to have “‘passive agency,’ neither independent nor devoid of choice.”28 Women in Republican China employed the same strategies of gender performance in their petitions and maintained a similar form of agency. Female petitioners in Republican China engaged in “patriarchal bargains,” which allowed them to “strategize within a set of concrete constraints,” to borrow Deniz Kandiyoti’s words.29 At the same time that female petitioners presented themselves according to the ideals of virtuous women and female citizenship, they also ventured into politics, navigated the bureaucratic maze, and asserted their agency. Familiar to varying degrees with China’s legal-moral traditions, many managed to gain a significant foothold in the new republic. Although those petitioners may have physically remained in the inner realm of their household compounds, the act of petitioning was a form of political participation and created bureaucratic paper trails, extending their temporal and

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spatial presence. Many widows even penned and signed petitions on behalf of their college-educated sons. Mrs. Zhao, née Xia, in her petitions even went as far as referring to herself by her first name, Guangguo, or “Glorifying the Nation”—a name popular during the revolutionary era and usually reserved for sons. Such use of personal names instead of the female denomination shi by petitioners, though infrequent, implied an assertion of individuality and a separation from the patriarchal family name. Being illiterate did not deter women from petitioning. Although petitioners might have consulted professionals, they surely supplied their own distinctive narratives of how their family members sacrificed for the nation and how their current difficult circumstances necessitated financial support. These female petitioners were not merely playing a rhetorical game against the state to maximize their own benefits while internally rejecting the state and its patriarchal ideology. Lila Abu-Lughod cautions that the desire to find resistance has made some scholars romanticize resistance as “signs of the ineffectiveness of systems of power and of the resilience and creativity of the human spirit in its refusal to be dominated.”30 Resistance in the context of women’s studies is often imagined as the ideal of female emancipated consciousness. James Scott’s emphasis on “weapons of the weak” and “everyday resistance” has led to a desire to identify victories of the people over the state.31 My cast of characters however, were part of the state and desired to engage with it. The petitioners, to borrow Michael Szonyi’s words, “sought to be seen by the state in particular ways” by “acquiring idiomatic competence in the language of the state.”32 However, it is inadequate to view petitioners in terms of their “decisions about when to be governed, about how best to be governed, about how to maximize the benefits and minimize the costs of being governed.”33 These Republican-era petitioners were similar to the “rightful resisters” in early 2000s rural China who relied on an authorized channel, employed the moral and legal rhetoric of the state, exploited the divisions within the bureaucracy, and mobilized social capital from the community.34 Analyzing petitions by widows yet reveals the transformation toward a stricter gender hierarchy in modern China. The state appeared to listen to women’s voices as it investigated and responded to these petitions. The reception and outcome of the petitions nevertheless explains why wives, mothers, daughters, and daughters-in-law with no independent social status (other than affiliation with their male relatives) submitted petitions under their own names. The presence of women’s names in petitions reinforced the familial and social division of male and female citizens in the new republic.

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The newly established government under the Nationalists created a space for women to engage with the state, but as mothers, wives, and daughters rather than as citizens. The legacy of these social developments was lasting. By linking the body familial with the body politic, the domestic sphere subjected itself to political ends. Private choices, including reproductive ones, became tied to the fate of the nation, eventually allowing the Communist government to restrict the number of births per family by applying severe preventive and punitive methods.

Negotiation with the State With various compensation regulations aiming to support widows and orphans, women’s voices emerged more during the Republican era than previously, many of them reflecting an increased political awareness. In the imperial era, women were not unfamiliar with the court of law. Many widows sought the state’s protection in the name of chastity when family members tried to rob them of their dowries or sell them off. The number of widows increased dramatically during the Republican era because of population growth and war. In addition, schools open to women in Republican China gave rise to significantly more education opportunities for women. These developments drew more women to the state apparatus and allowed them to join the political sphere. Navigating the Chinese bureaucracy was a trying task, but one that Mrs. Zhao, née Xia, Guangguo, from Zhenjiang County, Jiangsu, managed skillfully. In 1929 Mrs. Zhao petitioned for her son Zhao Junlong to attend school free of charge.35 Mrs. Zhao revealed that she “was interested in learning at a young age.” She joined the revolution in the early years of the republic and was part of the Women’s Northern Expedition Unit. She met her husband during these activities. Mrs. Zhao’s late husband, Zhao Guang, had been a revolutionary since the founding of the republic and was a staunch follower of Sun Yat-sen throughout the 1910s and 1920s. Zhao Guang graduated from Ningxia’s New Army School and the Guangzhou Military Academy. According to his wife’s petition, he was strong and passionate as a young man. He had joined the Nationalist Party and Sun Yat-sen’s cause with the encouragement of his elder brother Zhao Sheng. After many party assignments, some of which came directly from Sun, and battles in remote areas, his health quickly declined. Mrs. Zhao explained that he had died from exhaustion caused by working for the revolution and experiencing hardship throughout his decades-long career. She meticulously attached his revolutionary biography and pointed out extended periods when he lived under harsh conditions,

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which resulted in his premature death. Mrs. Zhao had been awarded 300 yuan for her late husband’s funeral and burial fees. However, she petitioned again to receive her husband’s November salary, as he had died late in that month without collecting his monthly pay of 100 yuan.36 Mrs. Zhao was well informed about the amount of money to which her family was entitled and was determined to wrest it from the government. Mrs. Zhao’s other petitions revealed her struggle to secure her son a spot in middle school and, by extension, secure her future. When the fifteenyear-old Junlong graduated from elementary school in the spring, no school in the region was accepting students. He had to apply for the middle school in Yangzhou, a city about twenty-two miles from their home in Zhenjiang. When the time came, however, Junlong fell ill and could not take the entrance exam. Mrs. Zhao then traveled to Yangzhou to talk to the school president, who suggested that her son enter the examination preparation class and apply for financial assistance from the state to cover its cost. Because enrolling in this class was not the same as enrolling in a school, the Jiangsu provincial government denied the son the tuition waiver reserved for revolutionary martyrs’ heirs.37 Undaunted, Mrs. Zhao mobilized her social and political capital to overturn the decision. Various details in her petitions demonstrate her increasing political sophistication. In the first petition, she referred to “the late elder brother Baixian” (Zhao Guang’s older brother Zhao Sheng, a revolutionary martyr killed in the Yellow Flower Hill uprising) and “Mr. Zhongshan” (Sun Yat-sen). Referring to her husband’s association with these two legendary political figures gave her petition tremendous weight.38 In the fourth petition, she used the more proper term “the late director” (xian zongli), which was the official term for Sun Yat-sen in government documents during this period.39 Moreover, in her fourth and fifth petitions, she used paper with the letterhead of the Women’s Relief Office of the Jiangsu Provincial Capital Relief Department, flaunting her official position in this organization.40 All this evidence indicates that Mrs. Zhao was a capable and educated woman who became even more familiar with the government bureaucracy. Furthermore, she resorted to more affected language in the second petition addressed to the Jiangsu provincial governor and in the third petition to the premier of the Executive Yuan, Tan Yankai, in 1929.41 Mrs. Zhao claimed that her widowed life was “desolate beyond words.” She closed her petitions with “weeping” (qi) and “bowing” ( jugong) instead of the neutral term “petitioning” ( ju cheng). Her case received further attention when the provincial government forwarded her fifth petition to the Executive Yuan for a decision. Mrs. Zhao’s

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effort was successful, as the Executive Yuan dictated that according to the regulations concerning children of revolutionaries, her son’s tuition should be waived. Even though widows of deceased revolutionaries were eligible for compensation, the Executive Yuan added that no other payment would be made, given Mrs. Zhao’s gainful employment.42 Although not achieving a complete victory, Mrs. Zhao succeeded in mobilizing political and social resources in her negotiation with the bureaucracy. How did women of lower status than Mrs. Zhao fare in the Republican era? The following case demonstrates how illiterate widows with less social capital could engage with the state. In November 1928, the forty-six-year-old Mrs. Zang, née Chen, from Jiangsu, claimed that a distantly related nephew pretended to be her late husband’s heir to claim her and her daughter’s compensation privileges. Mrs. Zang did not include her first name and signed the petition with a cross, signifying her modest upbringing. Mrs. Zang had a harder time navigating the bureaucracy than the better-educated Mrs. Zhao. Her husband, a follower of Sun Yat-sen since the revolutionary years, was executed in Nanjing in 1916. Mrs. Zang’s petition opened with details about the family lineage. Her predicament lay at home. Her late husband, Zaixin, had three brothers. The eldest brother, Zaiqun, had two sons, Xiabiao and Xialing. The second brother, Zaishan, had one son, Xiayan. The youngest brother, Zaitong, had two sons, Xiakang and Xiafu. Unfortunately, Zaixin himself only had two daughters by Mrs. Zang. The elder daughter, Xiazhen, got married and left the Zang household. The younger had died of illness at age seven. Mrs. Zang was living with another daughter, named Jiesheng, who was born to Zaixin’s concubine, née Mao. When Jiesheng was one year old, the concubine remarried and left the Zang household. As a concubine who failed to produce a male heir and was widowed early, Ms. Mao would have been better off seeking a new life elsewhere. Mrs. Zang then raised Jiesheng, according to her petition, “as her own child.” This was evidenced by the fact that this daughter, fourteen years old at the time of the petition, was attending a private middle school.43 According to Mrs. Zang’s petition, after Zaixin died, his parents grieved so much that they became ill and soon followed him one after the other. While they were still alive, the widow took care of them as if she were their son, and she arranged for proper funerals when they passed away. A daughter-in-law mourning the deaths of her parents-in-law as their son was an extraordinary act of filiality. Despite her flawless conduct, however, a distant male relative contested her rights to martyrdom privileges. This relative, Xiajin, showed up claiming to be Zaixin’s heir. He offered to bring

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the martyr’s body back to the province for burial. It was unlikely that an illiterate widow and an underage daughter could amass enough funds for and carry out the task of reburial. In addition, Zaijin’s brothers and their sons appeared to be insufficiently versed in the world to travel long distances. As the petitioner did not mention their education or profession, one can infer that they farmed. Mrs. Zang disputed Xiajin’s claim, pointing out that her husband had three daughters and five nephews, whose blood ties were much closer than Xiajin’s. One of the nephews could be made Mrs. Zang’s adopted son. In the early twentieth century, families with only daughters often offered their properties to their nephews in exchange for being taken care of in their old age.44 Further, serving in the military, Zaixin was seldom granted leave to go home and could not personally have known the imposter, Xiajin, who lived 20 miles away from Zaixin’s home. Given all these reasons, Xiajin could not be the legitimate heir. Mrs. Zang’s petition was addressed to the national government and the Ministry of Military Administration, which sent it down to the provincial level for clarification. The Jiangsu provincial government sent investigators to the village and summoned Mrs. Zang, Zang Xiajin, and Zang Guobin, a clan elder, to the government office for questioning. The investigation concluded that the dispute “was resulted from a misunderstanding” and all sides left in harmony with four resolutions. The first resolution made Jiesheng, the daughter by the martyr’s concubine, the legal heir (fading jicheng), and both Xiajin and Xiabiao, the martyr’s eldest brother’s eldest son, the adopted heirs (sizi).45 The second resolution divided the stipend equally between Jiesheng and Xiabiao after paying for expenses in Mrs. Zang’s household. Even though the 1928 Jiangsu Province Revolutionary Martyr Provisional Compensation Regulations dictated that spouses were first in line to receive stipends, in reality widows were bypassed by heirs. The third resolution put Xiajin in charge of bringing the martyr’s body back for burial and put Mrs. Zang in charge of the funeral and burial ceremonies. The fourth resolution allowed Xiajin and Mrs. Zang to jointly receive the one-time payment from the provincial government. The former would have the honor of receiving the money, whereas the latter would keep the money. The annual stipend would be dispensed directly to Mrs. Zang and her daughter. In this case, the state appeared as an ally and provided leverage for the widow to deal with harassment from relatives.46 The issues of heirs and adoptions frequently appeared in widows’ petitions such as Mrs. Zang’s. Kathryn Bernhardt documents the legal changes regarding women’s rights to property from the Song dynasty to the Republican

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era. Whereas Song women had rights to their husbands’ property, the Ming emperors dictated that widows had to adopt their husbands’ closest nephews as heirs and remain only as custodians of the property. However, the rise of female chastity in the late Ming and the early Qing eras granted widows more rights in practice. During the Qing era, the requirement to adopt a nephew was abolished; widows could choose their own heirs. This development was further codified in the Republican era. Concubines were granted the same rights as wives; chastity was “the great equalizer.”47 The 1930 civil code did not mandate adoption of a male heir or recognize the property claims of paternal kin, and it granted women the same inheritance rights as men in principle. The conflict between the new law and the old tradition had “varied implications for women in their different capacities”; in other words, “women lost old powers even as they gained new ones.”48 The state made Mrs. Zang adopt an heir even though her daughter was legally entitled to all of her late husband’s properties. Mrs. Zang had not initially adopted any of her nephews, perhaps for fear of losing her rights over her late husband’s property. If she had adopted one, it would have been a younger nephew rather than Xiabiao, who as the eldest son of the eldest son held an irreplaceable role in the clan. Even though Mrs. Zang had the right to choose her own heir according to the Republican-era inheritance law, the elder representatives of the lineage chose another male heir for her.49 New regulations concerning adoption should have protected widows like Mrs. Zang from relatives claiming to be the adopted heir, but in practice a compromise between law and customs was made. The resolutions left the imposter Xiajin with no financial gain, yet he was now a recognized heir of a martyr. He decided to try to use the political capital associated with martyrdom. In April 1929 Xiajin submitted his own petition to the national government. He was literate and signed it with a personal seal. This twenty-seven-year-old man claimed that the previous year the Ministry of Military Administration had posthumously promoted his late adopted father, Zaixin, to the rank of lieutenant general, and had promised to assign Zaixin’s heir a comparable official position in the Military Affairs Commission.50 Half a year later, Xiajin had still not received a government job. He submitted another petition in October claiming that his household was in extreme poverty and asking for a post in the civil bureaucracy. The national government sent the petition to the Jiangsu provincial government, where the paper trail ended.51 Mrs. Zang legal quandary was a typical one for widows, especially those without male heirs. They were vulnerable to the exploitation of their extended families on both sides. Widows could be denied the right to their

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original dowries and conjugal property. Their natal and affinal families could fetch a bride price for them. Thus, widows were often forced to remarry or leave their late husbands’ households by their affinal relatives. Mrs. Zang’s late husband had three male siblings and five nephews. She had to struggle against all the males in the affinal family. Her husband’s concubine left the household after his death, her legal daughter was underage, and she had no ally after her parents-in-law died. However, because article 3 of the 1928 Jiangsu Province Revolutionary Martyr Provisional Compensation Regulations did not discriminate between sons and daughters, having a daughter entitled Mrs. Zang to an annual stipend. In the end, she had to share part of the stipend with her eldest nephew (and by extension her affinal family) because she likely needed their protection against the more insidious Xiajin. Xiajin, who had a middle-school education and was fluent in the bureaucratic system, posed a different kind of threat to Mrs. Zang than did her husband’s brothers and nephews. Although she could not get rid of him, her status as a martyr’s widow saved her from his schemes.

The Institutionalization of Virtue The state did not rely solely on the legal statutes to make its decisions. It also judged bereaved families based on traditional virtues. Ignoring Wang Shijie’s protest over the commendation law of the new republic (chapter 2), the Nationalist government not only upheld the long tradition of rewarding virtuous behaviors but also incorporated it into the compensation regulations for party members, servicemen, and bureaucrats. Petitioners, following the same tradition, portrayed themselves and their family members as paragons of filiality and morality. The government appeared to view petitioners and beneficiaries more favorably if they exhibited proper characteristics. In some cases, widows of significant social status crafted personas of dependent and domestic women to gain sympathy from the state. The compensation regulations, intended to support the families of those who contributed their lives to the Nationalist state, were a powerful tool to discipline the thoughts and behaviors of the living. Mark Elvin argues that the unique feature of late imperial China was not the presence of socially admirable individuals or the bestowal of honors by the state, but rather the “use of the political system to confer explicit honors for behavior defined as virtuous in private, everyday life.”52 Therefore, petitioners’ performance of constant virtue added weight to their claims. Most compensation regulations stipulated that stipends be provided until martyrs’ children came of age or their widows remarried. The latter

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provision clearly sought to incentivize devotion to the principle of widow chastity. According to government records, widows of martyrs rarely remarried; doing so would have meant losing the benefits bestowed on those who did not remarry. In a collective petition for sixty-one revolutionary martyrs, twenty-nine had living widows. More than a decade after their husbands’ deaths, only one of these twenty-nine had remarried.53 Leaving their deceased husbands’ households deprived widows not only of financial support from the state but also of everything else, including their children. The high stakes of remarrying revealed themselves in the case of a Mrs. Gao, née Tao, who petitioned for her late husband, Gao Renshan, in 1928. The Nationalist government granted the widow stipends, coffin transportation expenses, and burial fees. When Mrs. Gao remarried a few years later, her former father-in-law Gao Jie took custody of her children and petitioned to be the designated recipient of the annual stipend. The government approved Gao Jie’s petition, which stated that Ms. Tao and the Gao family “had nothing to do with each other.”54 Nonetheless, cases surfaced of martyrs’ widows secretly remarrying and continuing to collect stipends. The Ministry of Military Administration ordered the Jiangsu provincial government to scrutinize the case of Ceng Shiyue. Ceng’s wife, Zhang Muxia, was suspected of remarrying while continuing to collect the death benefit of her late husband. The Jiangsu provincial government admitted that it had no idea if this was the case, and transferred the case to the Guangdong provincial government, which tracked down some acquaintances of the Cengs. On further investigation, a classmate of Ceng Shiyue came forward and confirmed that Zhang Muxia and a man named Su Jieliang had “secretly gotten married” (mimi jiehun). The county’s financial affairs bureau immediately canceled Zhang’s stipend of 240 yuan for 1929.55 Many petitioners mentioned the need to raise the heir of the patriarchal lineage, as having an heir was the priority in the traditional Chinese family.56 Because sons were the only means for women after their husbands’ deaths to benefit morally, socially, and financially, most widows were anxious to provide education for their male offspring. In the cases discussed below, petitioners performed maternal virtue in their effort to ensure the education of male heirs. Their requests seemingly echoed the iconographic story of Mencius’s mother’s moving her house three times to ensure a suitable environment for her son’s intellectual growth. Political education, however, was the duty of elder kinsmen—fathers, uncles, or brothers—as seen in petitions by politicians and party members. Mothers provided the conditions for an education focused on patriotism and party loyalty, but patriarchs provided

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the content.57 The absence of the patriarch did not cause a revolution in women’s lives and perspectives. On the contrary, the law further institutionalized and incentivized traditional female virtue. An implicit acknowledgment of traditional moral virtues can be seen in how petitions were framed and how awards were granted. A Mrs. Jin, née Gan, whose husband was martyred during an anti-Yuan campaign, requested financial support for her son to attend middle school. In the petition, she described herself as “a woman having no entreaty for herself before her last breath,” and emphasized that her late husband wanted his sole heir to advance through his studies.58 I did not come across any petitions by childless widows requesting assistance for themselves, even though widows were eligible and had first or second priority to receive stipends according to the compensation regulations. Requesting a stipend for themselves would make widows appear selfish to society and useless to the state. Indeed, childless widows accounted for a very small percentage of beneficiaries awarded annual stipends. In a survey, out of 156 cases of deceased Nationalist Party members collected from 1937 to 1940, only five childless widows—just over 3 percent—received lifelong annual stipends. The state granted death benefits to ten martyrs’ aging parents, which accounted for nearly 7 percent of cases. In 141 cases (90 percent), children received annuities either until they came of age or for durations of five, ten, or fifteen years.59 Even when a widow was capable of dealing with the bureaucracy and seeking death benefits from the state, she chose to portray herself untutored and helpless. Mrs. Tie, née Wan, Huiyun claimed that she was “just an ignorant woman who knew nothing about compensation law and who only knew to suffer all kinds of hardships and to swallow tears to survive.”60 Mrs. Zhu, née Wang, wrote that she and other widows “belonged to the womenfolk, without knowing the great cause” and that their “fates were similar to those of insects.”61 When widows portrayed themselves in the language of female modesty, suffering, and sacrificing, the Nationalist government was more amenable to making exceptions to grant their requests. Two contrasting cases demonstrate how feminine virtues were institutionalized in compensation cases. In 1937, Mrs. Xu, née Yang, petitioned for her adopted grandson’s education fees. Her husband, Xu Yangshan, had participated in attempting to overthrow Yuan Shikai and died in the Second Revolution of 1913. During his revolutionary years, her husband had sold most of his private property and the family was impoverished in the process. Her son, Xu Zezhou, who was then accompanying her husband, managed to obtain the corpse of his martyred father. However, he had to wait until 1921 to take his coffin out of Hangzhou and back to their

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hometown in Zhejiang’s Longquan County. Zezhou later joined the Nationalist Party, as his father had wished. Unfortunately, he contracted tuberculosis and died, leaving behind a young wife. The government had given the family an annual stipend of 400 yuan. However, because Mrs. Xu had no grandson, she adopted the son of a man named Wu Wenchun (whose relation to the Xu family is unclear) and renamed him Xu Jingchuan.62 When Jingchuan was sixteen years old, Mrs. Xu arranged his marriage to a fifteenyear-old girl. Jingchuan had graduated from middle school and had the ability to advance his studies. However, living expenses skyrocketed and Mrs. Xu could no longer afford his education. She requested that the government reconsider her case based on the 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations, which waived education fees for deceased party members’ children and designated heirs until they came of age. Although Jingchuan was underage and the legal heir, Mrs. Xu’s request was rejected after having passed through a few bureaus and departments.63 Why did the state find Mrs. Xu’s petition insufficiently compelling, even though her request was justified according to regulations and adoption to maintain the patriline was common in China?64 The problem was that the sixteen-year-old beneficiary named in the petition joined the martyr’s family posthumously and was insufficiently related to the Xu patriline. Heirs adopted postmortem did not have the same rights as those adopted while the sonless patriarchs were alive.65 If Xu Jingchuan had been adopted during martyr Xu Yangshan’s lifetime, the government would have supported his education just as if he had been a biological son. Another problem was that the adopted son was too far removed from the lineage of the martyr. If Jingchuan had been a son of the martyr’s brother (a patriarchal nephew) and shared the Xu surname, Mrs. Xu could have made a stronger case. Mrs. Xu may not have wanted to adopt someone close to the family, as that could have led to contention over property. The Nationalist government could have made the same exception for Xu Jingzhuan as it did for Wu Yue’s heir, who was also adopted posthumously (see chapters 2 and 3).66 But it did not. The state in this case was reluctant to provide further assistance to Mrs. Xu even though her late husband was among the revolutionary ancestors. Because the lack of performative virtue in Mrs. Xu’s petition, the state denied her requests. Mrs. Xu depicted herself as taking various initiatives in maintaining the household over the years while leaving no space for the grief typical of widows’ petitions. Mrs. Xu described the family’s poverty as the justification for receiving compensation. In her rather brief letter, Mrs. Xu described how her daughter-in-law and she were “lonely, helpless,

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and suffering” (lingding guku), “endured the hunger pangs” (ren ji ai e), and “washed their faces with their own tears” (yi lei xilian).67 Such staid expressions failed to convince the government. Nowhere in her petition did Mrs. Xu employ the rhetoric of feminine virtues to bolster her claims. In contrast, the next case exhibits how the performance of virtue produced a favorable verdict despite a similar lack of biological ties and legal grounds. In 1937, a Mrs. Lin, née You, Shangying, resident of Fuzhou, petitioned for assistance in preparing the final resting place of her husband, Lin Xiaoying, who had died in 1928, and her daughter-in-law, who had died in 1912. The petitioner was a secondary wife (ceshi), and she referred to herself in the petition as “a lowly concubine” ( jianqie).68 According to Mrs. Lin’s petition, the Lin family had to take refuge away from their hometown after the failed revolution, and the two coffins were placed in a temple waiting to be interred.69 The petitioner revealed that Lin Xiaoying was the adoptive father of a Yellow Flower Hill martyr, Lin Juemin, one of the most esteemed revolutionary figures in Republican China. Because of Mrs. Lin’s lack of biological and legal relationship with the martyr (she was his adoptive father’s concubine), she described her memory of him in stilted tones: “The day I witnessed Juemin being martyred for the nation, so much did I grieve. He left behind an orphan and a widow to Xiaoying who, already in his twilight years, had to single-handedly provide for them. [Thinking about this time,] I earnestly could not carry on with my letter and grievously cried.” In addition, though she managed the household, she humbly wrote that she belonged to “the weaker sex with bad luck” (nüliu mingbo), who could only “stare at the ceiling without any strategy” (ying wu wuce).70 Her evidence of feminine virtues was positively received by the Nationalist government. The heirless Lin Xiaoying had adopted Lin Juemin, his nephew, as his legitimate heir. After Juemin died in the Yellow Flower Hill uprising, his widow gave birth to a son named Lin Zhongxin, and then forlornly died in 1912. Mrs. Lin, the petitioner, decided to spend most of the compensation money—1,000 yuan a year—to pay for the education of Juemin’s son and daughter, who had been diligent in their studies since they were young. Now that Zhongxin was studying in the capital, where living expenses were high, the generous allowance was quickly exhausted. Mrs. Lin, nearing sixty years of age, feared that she would be unable to bring the corpses of her husband and daughter-in-law to their final resting place before her death. She asked the government to help her properly bury the martyr’s father and wife.71 The fact that the grandson, though a legitimate heir and had already come of age, did not petition further emphasized Mrs. Lin’s sacrifice in

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Martyr Lin Juemin. From Zou Lu, ed., Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (n.p., 1922).

preserving the patriarchal lineage. The national government forwarded the case to the Central Compensation Committee for record keeping and ordered the Fujian provincial government to disburse the fund despite the absence of laws concerning burial fees for relatives of martyrs. The status

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of Lin Juemin as a revolutionary pioneer was critical, yet Mrs. Lin’s performance of virtue also mattered. In the cases of both Mrs. Xu and Mrs. Lin, the Nationalist state seemed to privilege the appropriate expression of traditional moral values and sentiments when considering how to settle ambiguous legal cases. This continuity is unsurprising. Eugenia Lean shows that emotions and traditional Confucian ideals played critical roles in the modern state, which was supposedly governed by rationality and law.72 Bryna Goodman analyzes how the popular press during the Republican era focused on notions of virtue more than legal codes and procedures.73 In these petition documents, the government fell under the sway of notions of moral values and reinforced the rhetoric of virtue with its decisions about exceptions to the law. This phenomenon was not unique to Republican China. Elizabeth Katz shows that in the United States during the early twentieth century, judges often intervened in cases of domestic violence as “substitute patriarchs,” condemning men for failing to display husbandly behaviors and rewarding wives for exhibiting “traditional female traits of vulnerability and dependence.”74

The Family at War After the Japanese invasion of 1937, the Nationalist state changed the compensation regulations for the armed forces, placing parents before spouses and children as recipients of death benefits and stipulating that the stipends be shared among members of the household. This was the change in regulations that took place in the 1940s. These developments were consequences of the democratization of “a war waged with everything at stake.”75 During wartime, women lost the exclusive rights to stipends, to patronage of martyrs’ children, and to custody of the patriline. In addition, widows’ petitions appeared far less frequently in the 1940s compared to the 1920s and 1930s. The lengthy, individualized petition narrating martyrdom, sacrifice, and loyalty yielded to concise, standardized forms. More precise legal stipulations left less room for widows to appeal, especially on the basis of hardship and/ or virtue. The dead left the realm of the family and enter the realm dictated by the state. Attempting to broaden the base of support for the escalating war and reduce cases of financial disputes, the Nationalist government made the household unit eligible to receive compensation. The state had already encroached on the familial sphere, as seen in widows’ petitions during the Nanjing decade. Making the family the collective unit receiving the death benefit led to internal surveillance among household members. In addition,

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compensation stipends were to be administered by the martyr’s parents and shared equally within the household, which might include other relatives besides spouses, parents, and children. These regulations discouraged widows from remarrying and prevented them from living with male partners without remarrying, which had served as a survival strategy, especially in hard times. However, soldiers would go into battle with less hesitation knowing that the state protected their interests and the integrity of their households. The Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee attempted to impose a legal framework over the traditional customs and practices of kinship. The 1941 report by Dai Mingyun, an official in the committee, explained that multiple disputes over death benefits among relatives had made such revisions necessary.76 For instance, in 1929 a Mrs. Xia, née Deng, Huifang, appealed on behalf of her deceased husband, Xia Zhongmin, a participant in the 1911 Revolution and supporter of Sun Yat-sen during the early 1920s. After a decade of participating in Republican uprisings (documented year by year in Mrs. Xia’s petition), Xia died at the hands of Chen Jiongming in 1922. In 1929, Mrs. Xia reasoned that even though the family had been awarded 5,000 yuan to establish a commemorative tablet for the martyr, she and Xia Zhongmin’s ten-year old son had not received any stipend. Given that the son had begun attending school, she requested a tuition waiver for his education.77 Xia Zhongmin fought for the Sun Yat-sen’s military government in Guangzhou, making him a member of the revolutionary nobility. The national government approved and ordered the Guangdong provincial government to pay Mrs. Xia a monthly stipend of 300 yuan, which amounted to 3,600 yuan a year—six times higher than the highest rate stipulated in the 1927 Party Member Compensation Regulations.78 In 1930 Xia Zhongmin’s father, Xia Bingnan, petitioned to the Revolutionary Commemoration Committee that his daughter-in-law had been keeping the stipend for herself. Xia Bingnan stated that his family included his wife, children, parents, and siblings, totaling nine people. The granted amount of 300 yuan a month did not benefit Xia Bingnan and his family in the slightest. The elder Mr. Xia lamented that he was getting older and sicker and was in need of financial support. The other seven family members were also in need of help. He added that his widowed daughter-in-law was currently in charge of the Propaganda Department of the Provincial Branch of the Nationalist Party and received a monthly salary of 140 yuan. Mrs. Xia also managed an elementary school for which she was paid at least 50 yuan a month. Together with the stipend from Xia Zhongmin’s death, mother and

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son were collecting about 500 yuan a month. The martyr’s widow did not share her fortune with the rest of the Xia family. Nine people had to rely on the meager earnings of Xia Bingnan’s younger daughter, Mufei, who worked as a servant. The Revolutionary Commemoration Committee investigated and agreed that Xia Bingnan was ill and could not provide for himself. The committee recommended giving the parents of the martyr the death benefit.79 In 1929, the Executive Yuan ruled that because spouses and children were first in line to receive stipends, Mrs. Xia could keep her stipend. The national government agreed with such recommendation.80 Mrs. Xia also fired back, stating that the Guangdong provincial government gave her 300 haoyang (the currency of Guangdong and Guangxi), instead of 300 big dollars. One haoyang was worth 0.83 big dollars. She got ill from encountering fights multiple times when she went to receive the stipend from the provincial government. This affected her mental health, and she had to spend money on medicine and doctors. Then the prices of food increased. Thus, the monthly stipend was insufficient. She petitioned to receive the 300 yuan in big dollars instead of haoyang.81 It is unclear if the Guangdong provincial government complied. Nonetheless, Mrs. Xia appears to have enjoyed a salary and a stipend until 1937, when the Japanese Army attacked southern China and the Guangdong provincial government evacuated. Mrs. Xia and her son, then a student at Zhongshan University and a local militia trooper, fled to Hong Kong soon after the war broke out. In 1939, Mrs. Xia petitioned again, stating that her son fell ill during the passage to Hong Kong because of an intriguing “water poison” (shuidu). She hired both Chinese doctors, who diagnosed him with “heat-symptom ailment” (rezheng, “fever”), and Western doctors, who prescribed him medicine for “cold damage” (shanghan, “typhoid”). Mrs. Xia complained that the Xia family needed government support to pay medical expenses and requested that the Ministry of Finance temporarily dispense the stipend via the Bank of China’s Hong Kong branch.82 Not only fluent in social and financial matters, Mrs. Xia also mobilized the trope of feminine virtue to persuade the state to rule in her favor. In the 1929 petition, Mrs. Xia used her first name, Huifang, to refer to herself. However, when her father-in-law filed a case against her in 1930, Mrs. Xia switched to using shi to denote her marital status in her petitions. She also humbly called her son xiao’er (my child) to project the image of the helpless widowed mother and son. She never referred to her professional identity or salaried position. Yet, it was clear that she was far from an illiterate, helpless widow, as she emigrated to Hong Kong to avoid the effects of war. She even suggested the best way to disburse and receive the stipend.

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The new compensation regulations of the 1940s would have required Mrs. Xia and her son to remain in the Xia household run by the patriarch— her father-in-law Xia Bingnan—and to share the stipend with the nine other relatives. Because of common disputes over compensation money within the family, the 1940 Provisional Army Compensation Regulations set new guidelines stipulating the order for receiving stipends as: first parents, then wives, and then children. All eligible relatives would have the “duty of depending on one another” and “dividing the stipend equally.” The regulations further emphasized the familial hierarchy: If the parents were alive, they would be in charge of keeping the stipends. If the parents were no longer alive, wives and children would be in charge of the death benefits. If the parents had other children to care for them, the former would hand the compensation over to the latter. If neither parents, nor wives, nor children were alive, the stipend would be given to members of a second group of relatives (grandparents or grandsons). If none of the second group were alive, then the stipend would be given to underage biological younger siblings until they come of age.83 Contrary to the notion that Nationalist lawmakers promoted the nuclear and conjugal family over the Confucian patrilineal one, the 1940s compensation regulations for servicemen reinforced the extended and hierarchical family structure.84 Widows took advantage of discrepancies between law and custom, especially when it came to remarriage. The following case is a prime example. After Peng Shousong, a police bureau chief and the chairman of the Revolutionary Alliance branch in Fujian, was murdered, his family with six concubines disintegrated. Two of his sons died. Peng’s fifth concubine, Ms. Tan, quickly left the Peng household and married into the home of Li Ruxian in 1919. Ms. Tan took her four-year-old son, Peng Gonghe, to the new household and later gave birth to two more sons with Li Ruxian. Eight years later, Li Ruxian died. In 1929 the twice-married Ms. Tan returned to the Peng household with her teenage son Gonghe to claim the death benefits. Because the remarriage took place before the issuance of the civil code, she declared that it did not happen. She merely went to the Li residence in search of a livelihood with which to raise her son.85 In 1930 Peng Shousong’s second wife, Ms. Sun, petitioned the national government for the compensation. She claimed that she had remained in the Peng household to raise the two orphan sons of the son of Peng’s deceased first wife for over a decade. These children, Peng’s grandsons, had lost both of their parents. Ms. Sun made a variety of accusations in her petition. She claimed that none of her husband’s former concubines stayed chaste and that some of them were scheming to defraud the state. One of Peng’s

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concubines, Ms. Shi, left to remarry immediately after his death. Ms. Tan had falsely claimed to be the second wife although she was the fifth concubine. Another concubine, Ms. Li, gave birth to a son named Yunsheng. Ms. Tan and Ms. Li then teamed up and used Yunsheng to claim over 6,000 yuan in stipend and inheritance. Their exploitation caused the boy to grow angry and die. According to Ms. Sun, this was when Ms. Tan left the Peng household and remarried into the Li family. Further, the returned Peng Gonghe was not Peng Shousong’s son, but Li Ruxian’s, because the real Gonghe would have been four years older. Ms. Sun added that Ms. Tan had previously accused her of being only a concubine and impersonating the principal wife.86 These accusations from both women were dismissed after the Executive Yuan received the Hunan provincial government’s investigation report.87 Because both women used legitimate heirs of the martyr to claim benefits, the Executive Yuan proposed to divide the annual stipend of 600 yuan. As the only living legitimate son, Gonghe received two-thirds of the stipend to pay for his education. Ms. Tan, Gonghe’s mother, indirectly benefited from this judgment. Gonghe’s wife, as the martyr’s daughter-in-law, was also allowed to attend school free of charge per regulations concerning revolutionaries’ children. As a widow who remained to chaste, Ms. Sun received 100 yuan as her living stipend. The grandsons, Shida and Shijin, received 100 yuan and were enrolled in school for the offspring of martyrs.88 The case continued for years with further allegations regarding the stipend. Ms. Sun filed another petition in 1935, claiming that she had not received a stipend since 1932 because of the First Shanghai War. When the stipend was resumed after the war, Gonghe took her share of it in 1933 and 1934.89 Ms. Sun’s accusation set off another investigation. Gonghe replied in 1936 that he had taken the money, but only because he needed to cover his mother’s living expenses and his educational expenses. He stated that Ms. Sun and the grandsons, Shida and Shijin, were quite well off, whereas his widowed mother Ms. Tan had been struggling. Ms. Tan’s weaving work did not earn her enough, and expenses for Gonghe’s school in Shanghai were well over 400 yuan.90 He also petitioned to receive more of the compensation amount, but the Central Executive Committee rejected his appeal and bade him to follow the previous settlement.91 Undoubtedly, disputes like this one led to legal discussions and attempts to crack down on customary forms of remarriage. Various customary arrangements of remarriage and adoption that had previously escaped the purview of the law were discussed in Dai Mingyun’s 1941 report. At issue was whether a widowed mother who “cohabited with another person” after her husband’s death could be eligible for a stipend

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when no other legal relative was present. By not formally remarrying, widows enjoyed power over their second mates, children, and property. Thus, a widow had many incentives to cohabit with a new mate rather than remarry.92 In Dai Mingyun’s report, the Judicial Yuan stated that although a second nuptial ceremony (zaijiao) was equivalent to remarrying (zaihun), a widow cohabiting (tongju) with someone without marrying that person was not considered having the second nuptial ceremony (zaijiao). The distinction was similar to that between a legal marriage and a common-law marriage in many contemporary societies. The Judicial Yuan ruled that although the 1930 civil code only mentioned remarriage, from the customary perspective, having a second nuptial ceremony was remarrying. Therefore, widows could only receive compensation if they did not have a second nuptial ceremony. The Judicial Yuan further ruled that widows who cohabited with men in the same manner as wife and husband with the intention of doing so forever, even without the legal terms of marriage, were considered as having had a second nuptial ceremony. Widows who bore children to the men cohabiting with them and had the intention of living together forever in the manner of husband and wife were also considered as having had a second nuptial ceremony.93 The civil code only recognized legal remarriage, not any other form; however, to prevent widows from taking advantage of this legal loophole, the government chose to ignore its own legal regulations in favor of social conventions. A martyr’s widow who cohabited with another man was considered to be remarried, and thus ineligible to receive stipends for the martyrdom of her late husband. The clarifications of the compensation law prohibited widows from collecting annual stipends while breaking the vow of chastity to their late husbands. Another issue addressed in Dai’s report was whether the heir of a martyr was eligible for a stipend from the death of his father if he came to live with his remarried mother’s household and adopted a new family name. The Legislative Yuan ruled that if he remained heir to both families with the agreement of all parties involved—known as the “heir of two branches” ( jian tiao zi) arrangement—he would be allowed to benefit from being a martyr’s son while living with his adoptive father. An adopted son had to be the only son of the adopting parents and closely related to the patrilineal side.94 Furthermore, adopted heirs had an equal claim to compensation benefits as biological sons. Under new legal restrictions elaborated in the 1941 report, Ms. Tan from the case above would have had a much harder time laying claim to the stipend. It is unlikely that the “heir of two branches” arrangement was made in her son’s case, given that her new husband was a Li. Because she remarried

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in eye of the law and her son was adopted into the Li family, the mother and son would have been barred from collecting benefits from Peng’s death. Because of cases like the Pengs’, the Judicial Yuan issued a caution in all cases of adoption: One shall not set up an adopted heir for the sole purpose of collecting stipends. However, such cases of adoption are legal and do not violate the law. We have found many cases of setting up heirs due to disparate circumstances. We have to follow both the regulations and the law while investigating the customs and details on these cases to process them with good will and care. Only that way can we avoid disputes and resolve cases smoothly.95 Although such caution had already been exhibited in judgments of cases in the 1930s, it was now explicitly stated. The case of Mrs. Xu, widow of Xu Yangshan, and others prompted a change in the order of beneficiaries in compensation regulations. On the one hand, new regulations on adoption prevented widows who adopted male children from outside their husbands’ clans from making a claim. On the other hand, they protected widows like Mrs. Zang, widow of Zang Zaixin, from relatives claiming to be an adopted heir. The new legal revisions and specifications not only addressed stipend disputes but also reflected an increasing necrocitizenry covered by compensation law. Undoubtedly, widows of revolutionary martyrs in the 1910s whose families could afford to educate them in Japan or modernized academies in China were in a better position to uphold their virtue than widows of enlisted soldiers in the 1930s and 1940s. Wartime shortages and delays in dispensing stipends were among many reasons why more families tried to maximize their chance of survival by informally taking in new partners and adopting heirs.

Martyred Women In 1937 the Wanzai County government in Jiangxi petitioned to award a plaque to Mrs. Lu, née Huang, who had died in a struggle to save her husband from “the red bandits” (chi fei, i.e., the Communists). While hiding from the intruders, Mrs. Lu heard her husband being taken away. Without a thought of her own safety, she rushed to try to rescue him and was shot. Disregarding her injuries, she continued to struggle with the invaders until her last breath. The Wanzai County government praised her as a widow martyr (liefu).96 The national government honored Mrs. Lu with a plaque

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reading “Exemplary Righteousness and Chastity” (yilie ke feng).97 The 1931 Commendation Regulations, promulgated to honor citizens with high moral characters and meritorious contributions to their communities, became the guidelines to commemorate acts of civilian self-defense and resistance during the War of Resistance and the Civil War. Virtue was thus equated with patriotism. War transformed role of women, who were no longer just petitioners, but martyrs themselves. Li Minghui, a woman who taught at a school in Pingjiang County, Hunan, killed herself to avoid being captured. The local baojia captains who compiled Li’s biography from eyewitnesses described her as a “chaste and refined woman with superior conduct and knowledge.”98 In September 1939, Li was pregnant and returned from her school to live in her husband’s village. Japanese troops arrived and started burning down the village, killing the farm animals, and raping the women. Heavily pregnant, Li could not move fast enough to escape. Unwilling to be disgraced, Li jumped into a pond. At the moment “between life and death, she ground her teeth and cursed the bandits.”99 “Cursing the bandits” was often employed in these martyrs’ biographies as an act of provoking utmost violence from the enemy while disregarding the dire consequence of death. Because Li died while on leave, the local leaders petitioned for her case based on the 1931 Commendation Regulations, instead of the 1938 Wartime Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Teacher Preferential Compensation Measure. Although Li Minghui committed suicide, she was deemed to have died for chastity. In fact, the same expression was used by authorities at all levels. The local leaders praised her for “dying as a martyr.” The Hunan provincial government commended her for “unyieldingly guarding her chastity” and “dying for a cause” (shashen chengren). Chiang Kai-shek, as head of the Executive Yuan, praised her for “keeping her chastity intact.” The national government awarded her a plaque inscribed with “Long-lasting Chastity and Loyalty” (zhenlie liufang).100 In 1942, the county head of Jiang County in Shanxi, Wang Yixiang, petitioned the national government to commemorate his mother’s heroic confrontation. According to the petition, Wang insisted on staying behind with his mother as a filial son while everyone evacuated. Mrs. Wang, however, said, “I am already over 70 years old. My death would not be a cause for regret. You run the risk of being caught by the enemy one day. Then you would acquire a reputation of being disloyal. I myself would be vilified for being unworthy.”101 Mrs. Wang compared her situation to that of Xu Shu’s mother. During the Three Kingdoms period (220–280 CE), Xu Shu was an official in Liu Bei’s (161–223 CE) camp. Because his mother was

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captured by Cao Cao’s (155–220 CE) army, he was forced to betray Liu Bei and defect to the Cao camp. Because of that, Xu Shu’s mother killed herself. Using the historical allegory, Mrs. Wang hinted that she would have to kill herself lest her son stayed behind. The trope of the defiant mother was not uncommon.102 Mrs. Wang assured her son that he would not be called unfilial if he came back to mourn her death. After these words, mother and son left each other in tears. The family servant who had stayed with the mother later reported that the septuagenarian matriarch cursed the Japanese invaders and faced death without fear. For her bravery, the Central Executive Committee proposed to award her for “resisting the enemies in loyal and brave manners” according to the Measure to Compensate Citizens Wounded or Killed When Protecting the Homeland. The mother solved the moral quandary for her son by ordering him to put the nation before the parent. The county head was able to fulfill both his filiality by obeying his mother and his loyalty to the nation by conserving the state’s resources, that is, his life. Filial piety was the highest virtue; one could defy the emperor, but not one’s parents. This story demonstrated “the transformation of filial piety into a statist discourse of war-ready patriotism, according to Louise Edwards.”103 In some rare instances, women joined the ranks of political martyrs who died not for the sake of feminine virtue but for ideology. In 1946 the PingSui Railroad Special Party Branch (Ping Sui tielu tebe dangbu) petitioned for Kang Shude, a thirty-six-year-old Nationalist Party member and a graduate of No. 5 Shanxi Women’s Normal School.104 Kang Shude joined the party branch in Datong County, Shanxi, and remained until the area came under the Japanese occupation after the Mukden Incident. Her husband led a guerrilla unit on the Shanxi-Chahar border. The unit was able to avoid detection for a while. However, when the unit expanded the operation into eastern Suiyuan in 1940, it tipped off the Japanese authorities, who then posted wanted notices. Kang Shude heard the news, changed her name, and fled to the countryside. During this time, she stayed away from Datong, but she helped cover for other party members to continue the operation for another two years. In 1942, the Datong police arrested her at her hiding place in Anxi Village, where they found her with her young son. In the collaborationist government’s jail, Kang Shude underwent torture and interrogation over eightythree times, but did not divulge any party secret. After being released in June 1943, she suffered serious health problems. In 1945, her body, wrecked by the previous torture, became “panic-stricken” ( jinghuang) when the Communist force arrived in Datong County. Her resentment (yuanhen) surged,

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causing her injuries to flare up. Before long she passed away. Song Ziwen, the head of the Executive Yuan, proposed to commemorate her according to article 1, clause 8 of the 1946 War of Resistance Martyr Commendation Regulations: “other cases of bravery and loyalty that are sufficient to serve as models.”105 Kang was awarded a tablet inscribed with “Loyal, Steadfast, and Patriotic” (zhongzhen aiguo).106 Such cases demonstrate how feminine virtues were made to succumb to statist patriotism. This chapter has examined the complexity of women’s agency in relation to the Nationalist state’s notion of martyrdom. Regulations regarding martyrs allowed the state to take the place of the deceased patriarch. As such, the Republican state and its Communist successor had the opportunity to turn the family into a training ground for citizens and party members. The involvement of the state in family affairs, especially with regard to disputes concerning chaste widows, was significant during the imperial era, but the political intrusion became far more extensive during the Republican era. It reached beyond the elites into the larger population and was carried out more methodically. The political commemoration of the death of the patriarch reinforced the patriarchal order by placing him on a pedestal as a martyr and replacing him with the exclusive party-state. The departure of the patriarch allowed female family members to emerge from the confines of the household and into historical accounts, yet their function was to ensure the familial hierarchy and the continuance of the patriline. At the same time, the women negotiated and challenged the state’s centralizing and narrowing visions by narrating their knowledge and experience in petitions to the Nationalist government. The individual and nuanced narratives in the petitions uncover the dynamics of state-family and gender relations. The foundation of the modern nation-state originates from the familial sphere because the hierarchy and formation of the family are replicated in the structure of the nation-state. With various compensation regulations that aimed to support widows and orphans, more women’s voices emerged, which reflected an increased political awareness. Furthermore, many petitions submitted by widows detailed the revolutionary careers of their fathers, husbands, and sons, proving that women were exposed to and supported political ideologies, albeit indirectly and unofficially. By advancing the state’s rhetoric of Republicanized Confucian morals and reporting on their households, women played a critical role in linking the family to the nation. The compensation policy in practice emphasized virtue on the part of the dead, the petitioners, and the beneficiaries. Female petitioners performed their gender by manifesting their feminine virtues and their male

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counterparts’ Republican martyrdom in appeal letters. Providing intimate particulars about war heroes’ lives and their own to the authorities, women became nodes of the shared memory that created the national history. When they narrated such acts of masculine martyrdom and feminine domestic virtues, the state encouraged them by making accommodations and providing commendations. The Republican woman’s chastity became associated with masculine martyrdom. When women used the performance of traditional virtues to negotiate with the state, they allowed their status in the new nation-state to be defined by those virtues as well as by legal institutions. Like their imperial-era counterparts, Republican women appealed to the state on account of their duties as daughters, wives, and mothers. This set a precedent that explains why the state proclaimed that women “held up half the sky” during the Mao era (1949–1976) while heavily suppressing feminist movements.107 The proclamation alluded to the responsibilities of women, whereas feminist movements demanded rights. The War of Resistance and the Civil War transformed the roles of women. Many women were hailed as martyrs themselves. However, the state continued to equate their deaths with the preservation of feminine virtues. Maintaining chastity by committing suicide was weaponized as a form of national defense.

Ch a p ter 5

Democratizing National Martyrdom

As 29-year-old Hong Kejun, recounted in 1939, the Hong clan had long lived by the Xia Family Creek in the Luxuriant Forest Village of Xuancheng County in Anhui Province. His father, Hong Xuelu, the family patriarch, was always concerned about the nation. While living in the village, Xuelu, closely followed the news of the Japanese invasion and often expressed his fury at China’s gradual loss of sovereignty. Kejun was working for the irrigation bureau in Nanjing and chose to stay in the capital when the Japanese Army invaded southeastern China in 1937. After hearing news of the Japanese soldiers’ inhumane crimes, people in Xuancheng County began to evacuate one by one. Xuelu, however, refused to leave, though he urged his other son, Kezhuan, who had been taking care of him, to flee. As they bade goodbye, the old man told his son to “repay the nation when there was an opportunity” (xiangji baoguo) and to relay to his brother that he also must “expend his spirit and exert great efforts for the nation” (fenfa jingshen wei guo nuli).1 As for himself, Xuelu said that he saw death as return and preferred to join his life to the fate of county defense. Kezhuan obeyed his father, fled in tears, and eventually died of grief and exposure during evacuation. On December 5, 1937, Xuancheng County fell without resistance because the defense troops had already withdrawn at the Nationalist government’s order. Kejun discovered later that enemy soldiers entered the Hong residence 146

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and found Xuelu alone. The old man’s chest was filled with anger, so he cursed them. He was killed and his body was burned when the village was set on fire. Kejun found his father’s charred remains in the debris of their house.2 The account of Hong Xuelu’s death was one of the martyr hagiographies submitted in response to a 1939 decree. The decree urged provinces to collect stories of people “who cursed the bandits and died by the sharp edge of the sword” (ma kou bi yu feng ren zhe). Once compiled, these biographies of heroic demise would be stored in the State History Bureau alongside those of all other distinguished revolutionary predecessors and military heroes, and published to encourage the whole population.3 This attempt to collect and broadcast tales of civilian martyrdom was part of not only “the myth of resistance” that would permeate the postwar era but also the actual concerted effort by the Nationalist government to resist the Japanese invasion.4 By democratizing martyrdom, the 1939 decree sought to transform civilian bodies into weapons, which by no means physically injured Japanese soldiers but managed to offend the invaders’ fighting spirit. Unlike a suicide-bomber whose singular death aims at taking multiple lives, an insolent civilian’s death often killed no one else. But such a singular death was not pointless; it allowed said civilian to gain necrocitizenship in the nation. Based on the context of China in the 1940s, the term “necropolitics” acquires a new meaning as the politics that one can participate in with the expectation of death. The brazen civilian’s posthumous existence—the ideal citizenship—was mobilized again and again in the patriotic narrative. The democratization of martyrdom in the Republican era resembled the “democratization” of virtue and “peasantization” of the law in late imperial China, as discussed by Mark Elvin and Matthew Sommer, respectively.5 During the Qing dynasty, commoners were indoctrinated with elite virtues such as female sexual chastity and were rewarded for upholding these values and punished for violating them. Social groups previously excluded from following societal norms were gradually incorporated into the population of good commoner status and expected to perform according to such virtues. Likewise, in the Republican era, wives of enlisted soldiers from poor villages were expected to follow the virtue of chastity as much as spouses of party members from well-to-do families were (chapter 4). More important, in the 1940s, the virtue of sacrificing for the nation, exclusive to the revolutionary class in the early twentieth century, became mandatory for the whole population during the War of Resistance. The democratization of martyrdom revealed two major developments in twentieth-century China: the militarization of civilian life and the

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civilianization of war. The Nationalist government’s war-dead compensation and commendation regulations advanced the process of militarization that manifested with the Manchu military conquests of Ming China and central Eurasia from the early seventeenth century to the end of the eighteenth century.6 These conquests were enabled by the development of the Banner system, which organized tribal soldiers into companies distinguished by flags of different colors. Under the Banner system, the principles of military organization became the principles of the civilian administration. In the late imperial era, militarization consisted of the institutionalization of the elite warrior class and the training and arming of self-defense militias and civilian troops in perpetual preparation for conflict. During the White Lotus War and the Taiping Civil War, the Qing Empire witnessed the continued rise of the “militarization of culture,” which Joanna Waley-Cohen defines as “the injection of military and imperial themes into almost every sphere of cultural life, broadly conceived.”7 In the mid-nineteenth century, Taiping leaders and provincial governors raced to raise increasingly professionalized armies and engaged in a civil war that cost twenty million combatant and civilian lives. This mid-nineteenth-century local militarization manifested in forms both orthodox (local militias, mercenary forces, and regional armies sanctioned by the central government) and heterodox (secret societies, bandit gangs, communities in arms).8 Although militarization temporarily subsided after the Taiping Civil War, the early twentieth century witnessed a revival of local militia mobilization generated by the involvement of secret societies in provincial Republican uprisings, an increase in banditry, and the power struggles following Yuan Shikai’s self-coronation. In the aftermath of the Northern Expedition, the rise of the Communist movement furthered local militarization.9 In the 1930s and 1940s, the Nationalist government legitimatized local defense militia to fight the Communist forces and later the Japanese Army. Militarization seeped into the fabric of Chinese society and culture, as demonstrated by many Qing reformers’ efforts to create both professional armies and a vigorous citizenry.10 Military schools and militarized curricula also became popular and desirable among the middle and upper classes. For instance, many Yellow Flower Hill uprising participants studied in domestic and Japanese military academies at the turn of the twentieth century (see chapter 1). In addition, the National Revolutionary Army school for bereaved children in Nanjing included “martial spirit” in its educational goals and military drills in its curriculum (see chapter 3). The militarization of politics in the provinces was among the reasons for the emergence of warlordism in early twentieth-century China.11 In popular culture, militarization included

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the eroticization and glamorization of war, shown in such activities as embroidering images of sexually charged female spies.12 Even civilian dress became militarized when schools adopted Western-style military uniforms and menswear became less ornate and more sober.13 The familial realm was militarized when core values such as filial piety were “put to war service for the modern nation-state,” as Louise Edwards argues.14 Total militarization even extended beyond the human realm. By breaking the Yellow River dike to stop the Japanese advances in 1938, Chiang Kai-shek mobilized the forces of nature to become his soldiers.15 Militarization maintained its hold on civilian life even after combat ended. Michael Szonyi shows that during the Cold War, for instance, militarization—“the step-by-step process by which something becomes controlled by, dependent on, or derives its value from the military as an institution or militaristic criteria”—transformed all aspects of life, including “women’s bodies, basketballs, and rat tails,” in the tiny island of Quemoy ( Jinmen), located in the Taiwan Strait.16 Parallel to the militarizing process is the civilianization of war, which is defined as the increasing presence of civilians not only as victims but also as supporters of and participants in conflicts between states. Some scholars claim that the global civilianization of war—the shift in the civil-military divide—began with World War I and manifested in the increased civiliancombatant casualty ratio.17 In China, the civilianization of war manifested during the late Qing era and was further institutionalized during the Republican period. In the early nineteenth century, local governments enshrined both military and civilian martyrs who were killed or committed suicide when encountering rebels. By the 1820s, the boundary between martyred civilians and soldiers had become blurred, as both were eligible for posthumous honors in local Manifest Loyalty Shrines.18 The civilianization of war in twentieth-century China began with the manufacturing of martyrdom (chapter 1). During the 1930s and 1940s, the Nationalist government assigned combat and combat-related duties to groups other than the official military and promised honors in exchange for martyrdom. Civil bureaucrats and police forces were rewarded for “resisting the enemy” in battle. Further, local authorities were required to form citizen militias, and county heads were tasked with engaging so-called bandits in combat. In addition, civilians were made to support the armed forces in transportation, construction, and other logistical duties in exchange for military honors in case of injury or death. The presence of civilians became ever more common in government reports of casualties, rosters of enshrined heroes, collections of martyrs’ biographies, and petitions of bereaved families.

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To memorialize an increasing number of martyrs, the Nationalist state localized commemoration by mandating county Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine project was first initiated in 1933 and restarted in 1936, though only half-heartedly (see chapter 2). In the 1940s, however, the government became much more invested in memorializing the loyal dead and again urged counties to set up shrines. With these shrines came the collection of death data. The bureaucratization of death manifested in the rigorous categorization of war fatalities in ways that rendered society legible to the state.19 The bureaucracy created to collect and memorialize war casualties was designed to more effectively govern the dead. When total war engulfed China, national martyrdom was granted to anyone who “had died while protecting the homeland”—a mission delegated to the general population by the Nationalist Party, the bureaucracy, and the formal military on their retreat to the southwest. The state collected records of casualties and published volumes on the heroic feats of students, peasants, and workers whose deaths were deemed to be acts of patriotism. Such narratives of people’s willingness to sacrifice were hardly benign. They legitimized the subjection of the population to the blunt force of war. With the policy of delegating homeland defense to civilians in place, the general population became more than potential collateral damage in the eyes of enemy soldiers—they became threats to be eradicated. Because martyrdom was linked to ideal Republican citizenship, however, the inclusion of civilians in the pantheon of Republican martyrs denoted the incorporation of the general population into the nation-state, albeit posthumously.

Civilianizing War Fan Zhuxian (1882–1938) was in charge of defending Liaocheng County when Japanese troops threatened China’s northeast. Fan, the Shandong District 6 administrative commissioner (xingzheng ducha zhuanyuan), had an illustrious military record, having served in the Beiyang Army before joining the National Revolutionary Army. The Nationalist government appointed him county head of Lianshui County in Jiangsu and later of Linyi County in Shanxi before assigning him to oversee Liaocheng County’s defenses.20 On the day that Liaocheng County was attacked, Fan commanded the majority of local troops to engage the Japanese soldiers outside the county wall while he led the remainder of the militia to stay inside the main gate. Fan and his men vowed to die if the defenses failed. When they did, Fan committed suicide. The county head, Zheng Zuoheng, and the Police Bureau chief, Lin Jinjian, also failed to fend off the Japanese troops and died in battle outside the west gate.21

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Three years later, the Nationalist government rewarded Fan, Zheng, and Lin according to the 1927 Government Official Stipend Regulations and the 1938 War of Resistance Wounded and Fallen Civil Bureaucrat Preferential Compensation Standards. The amounts were calculated based on a number of factors. Because Fan Zhuxian was salaried at 600 yuan per month and awarded a three-rank promotion at 40 yuan per rank, his family received an annual stipend of 864 yuan and a one-time payment of 1,440 yuan. Fan was also commemorated according to the 1938 War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations with a plaque inscribed with “National Integrity, National Defense Sacrifice, Far-reaching Loyalty” (Minzu zhengqi, juanqu weiguo, zhong mou xun yuan). Fan Zhuxian’s eldest son, Fan Shusen, who died in a battle in Jinan, was also rewarded as a civilian martyr according to the 1938 Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Citizen Compensation Measure.22 The martyred county head Zheng Zuoheng, who was salaried at 300 yuan a month, was awarded a four-rank promotion at 20 yuan per rank. The Zheng family received an annual sum of 456 yuan and a one-time payment of 760 yuan. The Police Bureau chief Lin Jinjian, who was remunerated at 150 yuan a month, was awarded a four-rank promotion at 20 yuan per rank. The Lin family received an annual stipend of 394 yuan and a onetime stipend of 920 yuan. All four men’s biographies were to be compiled and preserved by the State History Bureau.23 These cases illustrated a new wave of compensation regulations for nonmilitary groups, including police officers, civil bureaucrats, county heads, local militias, and civilians. The Nationalist government’s intensifying conflicts with the Communist soviets, regional armies, and Japanese forces erased the division between the formal armed forces and civil bureaucrats. The Nationalist regime first mobilized the police force to act in the capacity of the military by promulgating the 1937 Times of Emergency Police Force Compensation and Reward Provisional Regulations. The proposal for the regulations originated from the desk of the minister of the interior, He Jian, who stressed that the war zone was no longer limited to just one area.24 The new regulations in 1937 aimed to commend and commemorate “injured or killed policemen in the capital, provinces, municipalities, and counties who exerted themselves to the utmost to continue their duties and made significant contributions when encountering enemies’ attacks during times of emergency.”25 Policemen would be compensated if they did not retreat but instead engaged in any of the following forms of resistance when the enemy attacked: 1) exerting themselves to save people and infrastructure or attempting to lessen the damage; 2) exerting themselves to vigilantly prevent or protect the area from harassment, violence, and

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other critical incidents; and 3) capturing, investigating, verifying, and trying illegally conspiring bandits, traitors, and ruffians. In exchange, they would receive stipends which varied from 35 yuan to 300 yuan. The exact amount depended on their rank and on whether they died immediately, died as a result of injuries, or were merely injured.26 These sums were much lower than those awarded to the armed forces (and even less substantial given wartime hyperinflation), and thus hardly served as a financial incentive or relief. The compensation nonetheless monetized human lives as part of the logic of necrocitizenship. Social classes and circumstances of death dictated the value of each necrocitizen. The Nationalist government also assigned civil servants tasks related to armed combat, pledging to reward and punish them in the same manner as military personnel. Such duties were first institutionalized by the 1933 Bandit-Infested Area Anti-Bandit Civilian and Military Official and Servicemember Reward and Punishment Regulations. Proposed by Chiang Kai-shek, then the Chairman of the Military Affairs Commission, the regulations stipulated that military and civil bureaucrats be compensated for diligently engaging in anti-bandit campaigns and be punished for doing the opposite. In particular, civil bureaucrats who were acting leaders of military units were considered holders of military posts, and they could be subjected to military disciplinary action, including facing the firing squad in case of treason.27 In addition, the 1940 Civil Servant Preferential Compensation Regulations granted those who died while performing public service during a time of emergency special pensions worth half of their monthly salaries.28 At the same time, the Nationalist government incentivized county authorities to assume responsibility for the formally constituted armed forces in defending county populations. This incentive was part of a new policy concerning county heads. After the formation of the republic, new measures to recruit county heads were implemented. The imperial-era law of avoidance was abolished in the early republic to allow county heads to serve closer to their hometowns and gain a better grasp of their local populations. Among the new administrative duties that came with the elevated importance of county government, county heads were expected to monitor local militias and weapons to ensure security.29 As the Nationalists and the Communists battled for influence beyond urban areas, lives of county heads were on the line. In 1934, Chiang Kai-shek proposed a special measure to compensate county heads who “died while defending county seats” (yi shen xuncheng). This measure had six forms of reward: advancement of responsibilities, promotion, medal, citation of merits, monetary reward, and commendations.

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In particular, county heads who “tried their utmost to defend the counties and were martyred when the counties were taken over” would be compensated as “killed in battle,” according to article 2, clause 1 of the Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations. Families of martyred county heads were promised a one-time payment of 1,000 yuan and an annual stipend of 500 yuan, which were the equivalents of the compensation for an army colonel or a navy captain. In addition, the amount could be increased by one grade according to the “righteous compensation” (yi xu) clause, meaning that county heads killed under extraordinary circumstances were elevated to the rank of army major general or navy rear admiral.30 In response to Chiang’s new measure, the Shaanxi provincial government in 1937 petitioned to commemorate county heads who had died to protect county seats from the Communist forces, or gongfei (Communist bandits), in the last decade. Li Kexuan, Xunyi County head, was seized and killed in May 1928. Li’s successor, Xie Qian, the county self-defense corps vice-captain, the secretary, and other local administrators suffered the same fate in 1933. Ningshan County head Liu Wenshao engaged in combat with the invaders and shot five or six of them with his gun before he was burned to death. Bai Chengzhai, Ningqiang County head, was murdered together with his wife and daughter. Dong Gongxi of Yanchang County was killed in a massacre as over a thousand enemy troops invaded his county.31 In addition to allotting benefits of unknown amounts, the Executive Yuan ordered these individuals’ biographies compiled and deposited at the History Office.32 The Nationalist government, having evacuated to the interior from 1938 to 1945, continued to mobilize the population from its wartime capital Chongqing to fight the Japanese Army. At the height of the War of Resistance, the Ministry of Military Administration ordered county heads and city mayors to form citizen militias (guomin bing) for defense.33 The Nationalist government promulgated the 1940 Citizen Militia Soldier Compensation Differential Measure to reward regularly trained, self-defense, reserve, and preparatory citizen militias. Moreover, members of citizen militia corps, which were organized under the command of the Ministry of Military Administration or provincial military leadership “in preparation to protect the territory in war zones,” would be compensated as soldiers according to the 1940 Citizen Militia Soldier Differential Compensation Measure.34 In 1943, at the request of the Jiangsu provincial government via the Ministry of the Interior, the Nationalist government, to account for exorbitant wartime prices, increased the benefits from 30 to 300 yuan for the wounded and from 180 yuan to 600 yuan for the dead.35

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In 1943, the Ministry of Civil Service proposed to add a new stipend scale to compensate local militia leaders. The Wartime Provisional Compensation Standards for Baojia Captains and Lianbao Chairmen Injured or Killed While on Duty offered rewards of 10 to 100 yuan to each “baojia captain who was wounded, disabled, or mentally disabled when encountering unexpected incidents while on official duty.” If a baojia captain was killed, the bereaved family would receive a one-time payment of 60 to 200 yuan.36 The honor of martyrdom was sliced even thinner for local militias. In fact, when various cases of baojia captains and people’s militiamen who were martyred for their communities reached Chongqing, the Nationalist government adjudicated but gave the task of financing to local governments. Among these cases was that of Pan Deren, a lianbao captain of Fuqing County in Fujian, who led the local militia to fight the Japanese invaders. Pan’s men were overpowered and ran out of bullets. Pan was shot and died in combat in 1938. He left behind a mother, an older brother, a wife, a six-year-old son, and a four-year-old daughter. The central government approved the case, instructing the county government to compensate his family.37 Recognition by the central government, therefore, might not have been accompanied by payments. At the same time, the demand for labor led the Military Affairs Commission to draft the Provisional Wartime Wounded and Fallen Militarily Recruited Worker Compensation and Burial Measure in 1940. Promptly approved by the Executive Yuan, the measure stipulated that both military units and provincial governments identify cases that qualified for compensation. Families of individuals who suffered overexertion leading to illness and death would be entitled to 300 yuan, and families of those who died while on official duty would be entitled to 400 yuan. Bereaved families would also be given 100 yuan for burial.38 In June 1943, the Nationalist government issued the Wartime Public Service Recruited Worker Compensation Regulations. Families of civilians hired during wartime by any government office— military or civil—and killed while on duty would be entitled to fourteen months of the deceased’s last wages as death benefits. Families of those who died of illness would receive four months’ worth of their last wages.39 The regulations were implemented for the case of Xu Shuqi, a member of the waitstaff (fuwu sheng) at the Chongqing office of the Ministry of Social Affairs (Shehui bu).40 Xu was injured and died from a bombing while conducting business in the suburbs. The Nationalist government granted his family 200 yuan for burial expenses and a one-time stipend of 560 yuan.41 Protecting the nation became the responsibility of each individual citizen. After the relentless bombing of Nanjing and subsequent massacre by the Japanese forces, the Nationalist troops were forced to retreat in January 1938.

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In June, Chiang Kai-shek gave orders to break the dikes of the Yellow River to deter the Japanese advances, causing the deaths and displacement of millions. It only bought the Nationalist forces some time. Amid desperation, the Nationalist government issued the War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations, expanding compensation benefits and enshrinement eligibility to wounded and fallen civilians who organized military resistance against the Japanese invaders. Proposed by the National Defense Supreme Council (Guofang zuigao huiyi), the regulations were applicable to “civil and military officials and the common people” (wen wu guan min). The central government urged supervising officials and county and municipal governments to collect and submit accounts of those who died while protecting the homeland to military affairs offices. Relatives could ask the local self-governing personnel to vouch for their petitions. Only petitions signed by a minimum of four colleagues or ten local inhabitants would qualify for review by the local supervising authorities.42 Individual civilians, regardless of occupation and rank, who were wounded or killed in war were allowed to partake in the benefits formerly reserved for revolutionary predecessors, Nationalist Party members, National Revolutionary Army servicemen, and government officials. The rewards for homeland-protecting civilians included promotion, official status, official posts or titles, commemorative structures, medals and honor tablets, compensation stipends, and tuition waivers for surviving relatives. The fine print, however, allowed only civil and military officials to be officially promoted. Only those with appropriate military training would be awarded military officer status. Only those with appropriate background and education would be given civil bureaucratic postings. Those who were unqualified for postings would be given official titles in the military or bureaucracy. Civil bureaucrats willing to accept military officer titles would be granted titles equivalent to those of the civil bureaucracy. Official posts or official titles could be conferred on qualified civilians. Those who were unqualified for any of the above would be compensated at the same level as common soldiers. Medals and commemorative tablets would be conferred on civilians in the same way they were on servicemen. Commemorative structures would be built in local parks, city squares, or similar places. In addition, the narratives of those who protected the homeland in exceptional ways would be recorded in the annals of national history and provincial and county gazettes.43 The draft War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations generously granted free education to martyrs’ relatives. According to the regulations, tuition would be waived for the children of people who sacrificed their lives to the war. Whereas the Legislative Yuan endorsed the regulations,

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the Executive Yuan proposed to change “martyrs’ relatives” to “martyrs’ children,” limiting tuition waivers to a smaller population.44 Mass martyrization became the last defense against the Japanese Army. In 1938, Kong Xiangxi (H. H. Kung, 1881–1967), the head of the Executive Yuan, proposed the Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Citizen Compensation Measure, which legitimized and incentivized collective and organized resistance. The measure was applicable to bands of able-bodied men, voluntary able-bodied preparatory units, special detachments, plainclothes bands, voluntary corps, civil defense organizations, civilian self-defense groups, and other armed resistance civilian outfits. The government promised rewards for participants who were wounded or killed when engaging in battle against the enemy, harassing the enemy at the rear, investigating the enemy’s movements, aiding military duties, carrying out military orders, and protecting the villages and towns against the enemy. Other forms of resistance would also be considered. The death benefits, however, were set much lower than those for revolutionary martyrs, servicemen, and bureaucrats. Civilians who died would be given a one-time benefit of 80 yuan and a 50-yuan annual stipend for ten years. People with first-rate, second-rate, or third-rate injuries would be given one-time stipends of 70, 60, or 40 yuan and annual stipends of 40, 35, or 30 yuan for five years, respectively. The classification of injuries, the order of relatives eligible for compensation, and other matters would be decided by consulting the Provisional Army Wartime and Peacetime Compensation Regulations.45 The War of Resistance also turned teachers and students into national defenders. In December 1938, the Ministry of Education under Chen Lifu (1900–2001) petitioned to pass the War of Resistance Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Teacher Preferential Compensation Measure. The Ministry reasoned that neither the War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations, nor the Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Citizen Compensation Measure, nor the School Teaching and Administrative Staff Pension and Stipend Regulations sufficiently compensated educational staff who participated militarily in the War of Resistance. The Nationalist government received many reports of faculty, administrators, and students who bravely fought the Japanese Imperial Army. The Executive Yuan approved, mandating that families of teachers who died protecting the homeland would receive one-fifth, one-fourth, or one-half of their last salaries.46 This stipend scale was more generous than that of the Government Official Stipend Regulations, which set compensation at only one-tenth, one-seventh, or onethird of final salaries. Based on the new regulations, the Executive Yuan in 1939 awarded stipends to families of eight faculty members and forty-five

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students from Hebei’s Xicun Resistance School and pledged to build a memorial to their martyrdom after the war.47 As monetary compensation became more symbolic than substantial, the Nationalist government sought to incentivize sacrifices for the nation by ordering local communities to create sacred space for new populations of martyrs.

Memorializing Sacrifice In March 1940, Chiang Kai-shek’s archrival, Wang Jingwei, became the head of the Reorganized Nationalist Government (RNG, Gaizu guomin zhengfu) under Japanese control. Based in Nanjing, the RNG took over the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum and the National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery, both of which embodied the legitimacy of the Republic of China and the Nationalist Party. Moreover, Wang’s government turned the Yellow Flower Hill Uprising Commemorative Park in Guangzhou into a gathering site for foreign dignitaries from countries of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.48 Wang also added martyrs of the Peace Movement, which advocated for negotiating peace with Japan instead of carrying out an armed resistance, to Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. The new president in Nanjing swore to look after these collaborationist martyrs’ bereaved families by implementing the 1927 Government Official Stipend Regulations as standards for compensation.49 In China’s southwest, Chiang Kai-shek was increasingly compelled to honor War of Resistance martyrs. New altars to the national dead became critical for propaganda and morale, and yet building them was not easy in the midst of economic scarcity. In June 1940, the Executive Yuan in Chongqing proposed converting the spacious and conveniently located Guan-Yue Temple into the provisional capital Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine.50 The project was delayed for four years because local societies, businesses, and renters of the shrine estates refused to evacuate to make space. In addition, the costs of renovation and memorial services were heavy burdens. When the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine was finally completed in 1945, it was not used. The Chongqing municipal government instead instructed various offices to send representatives from political, social, economic, and military groups to attend a ceremony at the Fuxing Pass between the Jialing and Yangzi Rivers, an open field where regimented spectacles could be impressively displayed.51 As the economically devastated Nationalist China joined forces with the Allies and experienced victory against Japan, a preference arose for military parades and mass participation as forms of commemoration. The ceremony

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celebrated the Chinese and Allied soldiers who fought in the Burma Campaign of 1942–1943, which was the first time that China participated militarily in a global war. The spirits of the dead were rallied to serve as evidence of China’s newfound international standing. The ceremony involved thousands of participants. The order to attend was strictly obeyed, to the point that the Air Raid Shelter Management Office had to appeal to the municipal government to excuse the absence of its staff from the ceremony because of its life-saving duties.52 Another major project built during wartime was the Nanyue Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in Hunan. The memorial arch and memorial halls followed the north-south axis. The road was planked with cypress. The shrine hosted the individual graves of twelve generals and seven communal graves for soldiers. On July 7, 1943, Chiang Kai-shek, Lin Sen, Kong Xiangxi, Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, and other members of the Nationalist leadership participated in the inauguration ceremony. In 1944, Hunan fell to the Japanese Army and the shrine suffered damage.53 After the war, the government had a victory monument built on Zhurong Peak, the highest peak of the Nanyue mountain range. The monument was a giant steel structure in the shape of the cross.54 Concurrent with these two central commemoration projects was the attempt to commemorate war martyrs in every county. The Military Affairs Commission reemphasized the mission of commemorating the national dead at the local level by proposing new regulations in 1940. The Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Establishment and Maintenance Measure required provincial, municipal, and county governments to set up shrines within their jurisdictions, to commemorate “loyal and sacrificing officials and civilians who died in the War of Resistance,” and to submit regular reports on their commemoration activities.55 Additionally, the 1940 War of Resistance Fallen Loyal and Sacrificing Official and Civilian Sacrifice Offering and Commemorative Tablet Construction General Guidelines broadened the eligibility for enshrinement as martyrs to include civilians who did not belong to the privileged groups of party members, servicemembers, and bureaucrats.56 More important, the guidelines for the first time placed servicemembers and civilians in the same legal and ritual space. Ironically, this equalization of the rewards brought them close to Wang Shijie’s vision from 1927. Moreover, by democratizing martyrdom honors, the Nationalists sought to mobilize civilians to actively fight the war. The instructions for civilians were presented in greater detail than those for members of the military, elucidating the many ways that a citizen could engage in espionage, harassment, and destruction against the enemy forces, even at the expense of said citizen’s life.

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To confirm that its necroconstituents made up a critical mass in local communities, the Nationalist government in Chongqing ordered provinces, municipalities, and counties to report on a number of items pertaining to the shrines, including locations, numbers of rooms, estates, properties, expenses (including construction, renovation, and maintenance), management, security, spirit tablets, and memorabilia. Over 900 counties submitted surveys of their shrines. These reports, compiled by the Ministry of the Interior, revealed that by 1942, a total of 624 out of 1,414 counties across 18 provinces had established Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. These shrines collectively hosted 33,886 martyrs’ spirit tablets.57 The total cost of building and renovating these shrines was 664,662 yuan. The maintenance fees for all the shrines came to 20,451 yuan annually. The funds for conversion and maintenance came from the leasing of land and rooms, public funds, interest, and donations from the public. The provinces with the largest numbers of shrines were in the interior and the south, especially Fujian, Guangdong, Guangxi, Henan, Hunan, Shaanxi, Sichuan, and Yunnan Provinces—the areas where the Nationalist government claimed control.58 Although many counties did not build shrines, those that failed to comply with the shrine-conversion policy communicated to the central government that they had valid reasons for their failure. Some lacked the finances to undertake any construction. Others were momentarily unable to renovate burned-down shrines. A few counties reported that they could not build shrines because they lacked information about local men fighting on distant battlefields. The most obvious reason for not building shrines was that many areas were under Japanese or Communist occupation. Because the Japanese military controlled the northern and eastern regions, counties in Hebei, Rehe, Shandong, and Shanxi Provinces did not submit a single report. Only seventeen counties across the three provinces of Jiangsu, Hubei, and Anhui built shrines. Much of the southwest interior was immersed in protracted wars among regional armies. The landlocked and isolated region was unfamiliar to the Nationalist leaders. The number of counties in these areas that followed the Nationalist order reflected this reality. Although the number of shrines constructed throughout China demonstrates a fairly enthusiastic response to the Nationalist commemorative project (especially given the Japanese invasion and the Communist occupation), the reports revealed that local authorities took extensive liberties in the project’s execution. Seeking to impose a specific vision of martyrdom by aligning Republican martyrs with traditional exemplars of virtues, the Nationalists required local governments to convert shrines originally dedicated to ancient heroes into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. Only about a third of the

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Table 5.1 Interior

County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines as of 1942, compiled by the Ministry of the

PROVINCE

TOTAL NUMBER OF COUNTIES

NUMBER OF COUNTIES THAT BUILT SHRINES

Anhui

62

6

Fujian

65

50

Gansu

71

39

Guangdong

99

51

100

72

Guangxi

81

14

Henan

Guizhou

111

62

Hubei

72

5

Hunan

76

68

Jiangsu

62

6

Jiangxi

84

24

Qinghai

20

6

Shaanxi

93

61

Sichuan

144

53

Suiyuan

21

0

Xikang

48

11

Yunnan

128

60

Zhejiang

77

36

1,414

624

Total

Source: Adapted from “Gesheng zhonglie ci shikuang diaocha tongji” [Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province],1942, Ministry of the Interior, Academia Historica, MOI AH 026000013773A.

counties, however, chose temples that had strong affinities with the sacrifice of life, valor, loyalty, martial spirit, or war. These counties converted Manifest Loyalty Temples, Loyalty and Valor Temples, Double Loyalty Temples, Righteousness and Valor Temples, and Loyalty and Virtue Temples, Illustrating Loyalty Shrines, Military Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, Shrines to the Heroic and Sacrificing, Shrines to the Loyal and Filial, Shrines to the Loyal and Virtuous, Guan-Yue Temples, and Martial Spirit Temples. As they were dedicated to those who had sacrificed their lives for the village, county, province, or empire during past centuries, these shrines were ideal candidates for conversion into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines for Republican martyrs. Over two-thirds of converted temples had little to do with the idea of martyrdom or loyalty, including God of Wealth Temples, Drum Towers, and Grandmother Temples. Some counties chose modern structures, such as public parks, general public education halls, and public exercise fields, which were ideal to host large gatherings. Many converted shrines occupied only part of the existing religious structures, often the unused rooms.

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For instance, Zunyi County in Guizhou converted part of its Jade Emperor Pavilion into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. In Nanshao County, Henan, an empty chamber of the Guan-Yue Temple was reserved for Republican martyrs. In Li County, Gansu, the authorities converted three rooms of the Wind God Temple into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine.59 Although the Nationalist government envisioned an exclusive space infused with virtues of martiality and loyalty, issues of finances and convenience meant that local authorities did not always realize this vision. County governments often chose sites that saved them from having to wrangle with social and religious groups instead of picking the most appropriate candidates. This tension between the central and the local frequently arose when the conversion involved temples dedicated to Guan Yu and Yue Fei. These temples were among the most desirable candidates to be converted into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. Usually, however, they occupied a prominent place in the local community, particularly because Guan Yu, as a patron of wealth and fortune, attracted sponsorship from merchants and secret societies. Attempts to convert Guan-Yue Temples were likely to be met with resistance, as seen in the wartime capital of Chongqing. Renters in the Chongqing temple even hired a lawyer to fight the eviction order.60 The Nationalist government explicitly prohibited the coexistence of multiple loyalties by requiring local authorities to retire existing structures that were similar in function to the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines.61 Despite repeated orders from the Nationalist government to decommission shrines dedicated to non-Republican martyrs, however, many Qing-era Manifest Loyalty Shrines survived into the 1940s. For example, the Manifest Loyalty Shrine dedicated to the anti-Taiping Xiang Army in Hukou survived until 1947, when the county government converted it into an elementary-secondary school.62 Local heroes who had died since the Ming-Qing transition and local militia and self-defense forces that had protected villages from banditry continued to occupy the same ritual space as fallen soldiers of the National Revolutionary Army. In over a quarter of the county-level Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in Henan, statues of deities remained even after the space was appropriated. County heads in Xingyang, Ye, and Huangchuan left statues of Guan Yu and Yue Fei inside the newly converted Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines. Guangwu local authorities allowed the God of the Eastern Peak Statue to share the sacrifices intended for Republican martyrs. In Neixiang County, the converted shrine continued to host a statue of Master Qiu and 217 spirit tablets dedicated to martyrs who had died protecting the county before the founding of the republic. Nanyang County’s shrine had 26 tablets commemorating

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anti-bandit able-bodied males (zhuangding), and Lushi County had 55 tablets dedicated to the county’s protecting-the-citadel anti-bandit martyrs from the turn of the twentieth century.63 The Nationalist government had to be content with seeing its martyrs enshrined together with established spiritual figures. Removing these statues would have created political friction at a time when the fragile loyalty of local communities had to be carefully won. The central government also issued guidelines for memorial services. According to the 1940 War of Resistance Fallen Loyal and Sacrificing Official and Civilian Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Enshrinement Ceremony, the ceremony procession was led by the party’s flag and a banner inscribed with “Resistingthe-Enemy Military and Civilian Martyr Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Enshrinement Ceremony.” A band, members of the military, police troops with guns pointing down, martyrs’ relatives, and local authorities and representatives from all walks of life followed. When the ceremony commenced, everyone stood in silence and music was played. The chair of the ceremony took his place in front of the altar and presented flowers. Dignitaries recited eulogies. Afterward, all of the participants performed three bows toward the martyrs’ spirit tablets before standing in silent tribute and listening to the martyrs’ biographies. The ceremony concluded after another round of music.64 The regulated ceremony turned the shrine into a place for collective mourning where the state could command proper expressions of grief and, by extension, modes of loyalty. Although the public sacrifice no longer entailed a long list of various cuts of meats and sets of vessels, as the Beiyang government had dictated in 1915 (see chapter 1), the Nationalist government continued to follow the traditional custom of making sacrificial offerings to the spirits. “Standardizing elegies for the dead will help unify a nation at war,” reasoned the minister of the interior, who subsequently issued two standard elegies in 1941. The first elegy was to be recited when the spirit tablets of fallen officials and civilians were placed in a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. During this “ceremony of entering the shrine and placing the tablet” (ru ci an wei), the master of ceremonies invited the souls of martyrs who had died during the War of Resistance to return from wherever they had died and to take up residence in the spirit tablets bearing their names. The elegy continued to echo the spiritual world in the Chu ci (see the introduction): The nation has overcome multiple obstacles. The barbarians invaded China and posed threats to the integrity of our territory. Those who were sincere and strong fought battles that shook heaven and earth.

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They killed the enemies and died as national martyrs. The heaven and earth are so vast, so we establish the tablets to summon their souls. Oh luminous [souls], please dwell here. We respected you in life and mourn you in death. We praise your merits and revere your virtue. [Please partake in] these sacrifices and shine upon us for eternity.65 After enshrinement, the spirits would be regularly conjured up to enjoy the sacrificial foods and drinks. During the annual public sacrifice, the master of ceremonies used the sacred texts and rituals to invite the spirits to temporarily join the living and take their sacrificial nourishment: Hail the spirits of so-and-so who died while resisting the enemy and who died for the nation. Your martial merits are glorious and permanent like rivers and mountain peaks. Your highly moral character instructs [us] and radiates like celestial bodies. [We offer you] the sacrifices of bumper harvests from all seasons and our sincerity in recording your merits and virtues. Here are Huangfeng wine and three kinds of sacrificial utensils to encourage the loyal and virtuous hearts of the six armies of the state. Your crimson blood for eternity makes upright the weaklings and the cowards of generations. Here are the sacrificial wine and food vessels. Please come to this temporal world and savor the offerings.66 In addition to these elegies, the Nationalist government set the commemorative dates. But the government changed the dates every few years, causing temporal discrepancies. In 1936, the date of the public sacrifice was set as July 9, the anniversary of the Northern Expedition. In 1940, the central government deliberated whether to set the spring and autumn sacrifice dates as March 29 (which was considered to be the anniversary of the Yellow Flower Hill uprising) and September 1 (the commencement of World War II in Europe). However, the Executive Yuan concluded that the two sacrifices would be burdensome to a nation at war and set a single public sacrifice for July 7—the anniversary of the 1937 Marco Polo Bridge Incident, which marks the beginning of the War of Resistance.67 In 1947, the Nationalist government kept the spring sacrifice on March 29, but changed the autumn sacrifice to September 3, the day after the Japanese military surrendered on

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the USS Missouri and victory day for the War of Resistance.68 These dates were chosen for their historical significance, but they also coincided with the traditional times of the spring and autumn sacrifices. Despite the central government’s effort to regulate commemoration dates, counties held memorial services on different dates. Across China, about 450 counties organized public sacrifices attended by representatives from local communities. Shangcheng County in Henan had organized a public memorial service every fall since its Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine was constructed in January 1935 and had held incense offerings on the first and the fifteenth days of every lunar month. Yichuan County in Henan also followed traditions and held memorial services during the spring and autumn sacrifices. Yangzhong County in Jiangsu held its memorial service on October 10—the anniversary of the Wuchang uprising in 1911. In Henan, Lingbao County organized two ceremonies, on July 9, 1937, and October 21, 1938. Some counties organized memorial services on completely different dates. Luoning County in Henan held its ceremonies on December 6, 1938, and January 2, 1939. Fangcheng County in Guangdong held its annual ceremony on May 5.69 Although these examples seem to illustrate the Nationalist government’s lack of control, the government in fact retained influence over the commemoration of martyrs. The Nationalist government not only took war commemoration to a higher level than its Qing counterpart had done but also transformed the traditional commemorative mode.70 This transformation was furthered in the post-1945 period. The relocation of the Nationalist government back to Nanjing in late 1945 put Jiangsu Province under closer scrutiny, resulting in a number of new shrines being renovated and converted. Local shrines underwent a critical transformation, as can be seen in the case of Baoshan County.71 The county planned to convert a Shintoˉ Myriad Soul Temple built during the Japanese occupation into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. In early 1946, the county government estimated the reconstruction costs at a million yuan and allocated 854,700 yuan to the project. In May, while in the middle of construction, the county leaders reported to the province that the price of construction materials had doubled since its initial estimate, and hence that estimate was no longer valid. The Baoshan County government proposed a new estimate of 2 million yuan for its shrine and petitioned that another 290,000 yuan be allocated for the main stone monument, which would bear 1,400 carved and inked characters. Chiseling twenty-two larger characters on the facing stone tablet would cost an additional 10,000 yuan. For the victory tower with four staircases, three sides of polished stone, five big characters, and four small characters, the cost rose to 200,000 yuan, ten times more than

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the original estimate of 20,000 yuan. In addition, the county needed 788,800 yuan for glass masonry, 580,000 yuan for stonework labor and materials, and 208,000 yuan for the installation of glass panels into door and window frames.72 Despite the costs, construction was finished in July 1946. When the provincial government’s accounting office came to inspect the finished shrine, everything was in order except for the shrine tablets, which had a white background and black characters, instead of a gold background and red characters.73 Judging from the Baoshan case, the aesthetic of war-dead shrines transformed in major ways, incorporating the use of glass and favoring black and white over gold and red. Glass allowed more penetration of light during the day, made the interior appear larger, and afforded outsiders a clear view of the inside. Transparent glass was also a symbol of modern architecture.74 With glass panes, the ritual space became more open and inclusive. During commemorative events, government officials and martyrs’ relatives were allowed inside the shrine while hundreds of locals could effectively participate by gathering outside the shrine to observe the ceremony taking place inside. With more light from glass windows came the choice of black and white for the spirit tablets. This black-white color scheme rejected both traditional and Nationalist aesthetics. The county government ignored the 1933 regulations that specified that spirit tablets must have blue bases and gold letters, with blue representing the sky in the Nationalist Party flag.75 Gold and red, auspicious colors that were more noticeable than others, especially in low light, were favored in religious structures. The turn to a black and white color scheme created an atmosphere of austerity and somberness. Renovations also took place in other counties in Jiangsu. The most notable case was that of Jiangyin County, which had previously raised 800,000 yuan to renovate a Manifest Loyalty Shrine built during the Tongzhi Emperor’s reign (1861–1875) into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. Valued at 15 million yuan in 1946, the shrine hosted 146 spirit tablets for martyred officers and soldiers and 135 tablets for “righteous civilians” (yimin). In addition, Jiangyin County presented a plan that would allocate over 4 million yuan to build a War of Resistance Martyrs’ Cemetery and a commemorative memorial in the county’s Zhongshan Park (named after Sun Yat-sen). The provincial Department of Civil Affairs approved the project, which entailed spending over a million yuan on excavating, encoffining, and reinterring its fallen officers and soldiers, and another 3 million on the construction.76 The costs of renovating war-torn structures and adopting new aesthetics were exorbitant. The low-cost option of hanging up a wooden sign that read “Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine” and placing the spirit tablets of Republican

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martyrs on the altar of a local temple, as seen in some cases from the 1930s, became less common. Whereas converting a shrine in 1936 cost in the tens to hundreds of yuan, constructing a new shrine in 1946 cost in the millions to hundreds of millions of yuan. Renovation cost less, but it was only feasible if the locale had a salvageable place and if the local government acted quickly before hyperinflation hit even harder. Jiading County authorities spent 300,000 yuan on the renovation of the Taiqing Temple to commemorate the county’s 125 martyrs in 1946. The shrine had one building, priced at 300,000 yuan, and less than one acre of land, priced at 750,000 yuan.77 Jiangpu County estimated its entire construction cost at 400 million yuan in September 1947. The projected cost doubled to 800 million yuan in January 1948, leaving the construction forever at the funding stage.78 Amid the devastation of war, hyperinflation, and continued conflict, such vast spending on the dead generated discontent. As the Nationalist state sought to mobilize the dead for the domestic war, it often did so at the expense of the living, as discussed below. Managing the loyal spirits was even more important in major cities than in counties in provincial backwaters. Municipal governments saw awe-inspiring commemorative structures as a way to enhance their standing in the nation. The Shanghai municipal government wanted to build a new Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine that would enhance Shanghai’s status among both domestic and international audiences as a “first-rate city in the nation.”79 The city’s officials launched a debate on whether they should adopt modern or traditional architecture for the municipal Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. A Western-style shrine resembling a neoclassical mausoleum with stone columns would cost about 3.77 billion yuan. A Chinese-style pagoda with tiled sloping roofs would cost over 5.3 billion yuan.80 The significant difference in price persuaded the municipal government to pick the Western-style blueprint, marking a departure from the traditional aesthetic. The construction, however, never progressed beyond planning. Nanjing presented another example of the changing commemorative mode. In 1946, the capital planned to convert the Shintoˉ Shrine on Wutai Mountain into the municipal Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine to commemorate War of Resistance fallen soldiers and civilians. The conversion of the Shintoˉ shrine into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine was meant to not only deprive enemies’ souls of a proper afterlife but also appropriate the spiritual power of the site. The extent of the conversion was minimal. The torii gates and to¯ro¯ stone lanterns were preserved, and the Nationalist flags and emblem were added. In May 29, 1946, Nanjing organized a display of war spoils, including Japanese airplanes

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and military trucks, at the shrine as sacrifices to the fallen servicemembers and civilians of the war.81 Traditional sacrificial provisions were replaced by machinery. The Nationalist state constantly invented and adopted logistical and rhetorical solutions to appease aggrieved spirits and gain allegiance from the living. The commemorative landscape transformed throughout territories newly recovered from the Japanese. The Guangdong Province Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Planning Committee raised over 55 million yuan from politicians, local gentry, and overseas Chinese to complete the construction of its shrine in May 1947.82 A public sacrifice for fallen officers and soldiers of the War of Resistance was held on May 5. An outdoor altar, furnished with spirit tablets, funerary scrolls, and sacrificial goods, facilitated public participation.83 In 1946, Chiang Kai-shek paid homage to the fallen soldiers and civilians who had fought on the side of the Nationalist regime at Taipei Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine, which was on the ground of the Japanese-built National Protection Shrine (Gokoku jinja). Taiwan, a former colony of Japan, reportedly had sixteen Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, which were converted from Shintoˉ shrines.84 In rare footage showing the ceremony at Hsinchu (Xinzhu) County’s Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in 1946, the master of ceremonies burns incense and reads elegies in front of martyrs’ spirit tablets and an audience of several hundred people.85 After having fought the Manchukuo and Japanese troops, Gen. Fu Zuoyi (1895–1974) erected a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine where coffins of fallen officers were displayed.86 On October 9–10, 1947, Fu held a memorial service for the war dead at the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in Zhangyuan, the capital of Chahar Province.87 In the Huanqiu newspaper, Fu appeared in a photograph with a Nationalist Party flag flying in the background. Other photographs accompanying the article showed a stone tablet inscribed with names of martyrs on one side and the Japanese surrender document on the other, palanquins carrying caskets paraded through the streets, and soldiers and civilians attending the public sacrifice for the war dead.88 In 1947, the Shintoˉ shrine in Qingdao, Shandong Province, was converted into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine to commemorate “loyal officers and civilians who died fighting the Japanese.”89 The Tianshan Pictorial reported that Zhang Zhizhong (1890–1969) organized a public sacrifice at the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in Lanzhou, Gansu Province, in 1948.90 Such commemoration in accordance with the Nationalist government’s guidelines attested to the Nationalist Party’s influence on commemoration modes, even outside its southern base. Toward the end of the War of Resistance, the state’s demand for local commemoration intensified. The costs for renovation and ceremonies

Figure 5.1 Chiang Kai-shek performing the autumn sacrifice for fallen officers and soldiers in Nanjing on September 3, 1948. From Chiang Kai-shek Presidential Archives, Academia Historica, CKSA AH 002-050101-00010-273.

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Figure 5.2. Chiang Kai-shek and his wife Soong Mei-ling (1898–2003) paying homage to the martyrs at the converted Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine in Taiwan in 1946. From Chiang Kai-shek Presidential Archives, Academia Historica, CKSA AH 002-050101-00085-003p.

became heavier burdens, especially for war-torn areas and refugees. In the late 1940s, new shrine construction sometimes took priority over the livelihoods of the living. One example of this phenomenon was the conversion of the Guan-Yue Temple in Chongqing into the municipal Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine. The municipal government evicted dozens of individuals and businesses who took refuge at the temple to claim the space for commemorating war martyrs.91 Another example was the Eight Treasures Mountain (Babao shan) temple complex in Beiping. The site originally hosted a temple dedicated to a Ming eunuch who was celebrated for his loyalty.92 During the imperial era Eight Treasures Mountain also hosted the Efficacious Prosperity Temple and the Extending-Longevity Temple. The Japanese Army renovated these religious structures into the Loyal Spirit Tower to worship fallen soldiers during the occupation.93 As Eight Treasures Mountain is located outside the urban center, the religious site sat on an expansive 90-acre lot. The Nationalist government in 1946 turned it into a Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine for National Revolutionary Army generals and political martyrs.94 After the conversion, the municipal government held an inaugural ceremony, public sacrifices, and enshrinement ceremonies.95

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In 1948, the Beiping Police Bureau organized a public sacrifice for police officers who had died in the line of duty. Because this public sacrifice was organized in March and coincided with the Qingming festival, the authorities included tree planting in the ceremony. The estimated cost rose to over 8 million yuan, including 1 million yuan for flower wreaths, 2.5 million yuan for trees, 2.5 million yuan for sacrificial goods, 1.6 million yuan for photographs, and other expenses.96 The Municipal Political Council declined the Police Bureau’s request of over 26 million yuan, noting that the municipal government only spent half a million on relief for families of martyrs in 1947. The expenses for the public sacrifice had been shouldered by the Police Bureau the previous year and would be similarly managed this year. The Municipal Political Council offered to dispense 10 million yuan to martyrs’ relatives in 1948.97 In response, the Police Bureau chief agreed to shoulder some of the costs for the public sacrifice, yet he cited the gross inflation of the postwar currency and asked for just under 7.5 million yuan—less than one-third of the original request.98 The municipal government approved this revised budget in May 1948.99 Whereas the government approved this large budget for honoring heroism, it refused to fund schooling. Several villages adjacent to the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine on Eight Treasures Mountain had petitioned to build an elementary school for children of martyrs within the shrine’s estate and sought support from the municipality. The school would provide tuition-free education to offspring and siblings of those that died in the line of duty. Although the Education Bureau initially contemplated making the new school public, it decided to make it private instead. The cost of building the school would be raised independently and without government funding. To operate in the absence of government support, the school had each enrolled student make a deposit of 20,000 yuan, which would be forfeited if the student dropped out.100 To offset its operation costs, the school requested to receive the fund initially slated for a martyrs’ cemetery from the Public Works Bureau.101 The municipal government vetoed the request. Instead, it allowed the school to operate based on rent from the shrine estate and to receive assistance from local businesses.102 The project of constructing Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines attempted to unify China under the Nationalist Party. The common presence of such structures as Manifest Loyalty Shrines, Confucius Temples, and Guan-Yue Temples indicates that provinces already shared similar social and cultural repertoires. The Nationalists, therefore, did not attempt to demolish these physical structures, but sought to insert the political agenda of the national unity into the existing locations. Furthermore, the experience

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of unprecedented warfare throughout China during the first half of the twentieth century added layers to the country’s shared history. The act of commemorating the war dead deepened the ties between the state and the community. In addition, the Nationalist government did not explicitly state a punishment for counties that failed to build Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, submit reports, or compile martyrs’ biographies. Local governments had no incentive to comply beyond the desire to commemorate their dead and the hope of benefiting from the recognition of the dominant authority. Hence, the Nationalist program of building Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines was not met with marked enthusiasm, given the expenses involved. Even though many counties were lukewarm in their response and many Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines were makeshift, reports from these counties displayed their acknowledgment of the central government and said government’s patriotic vision. Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines were almost never exclusively dedicated to the government-mandated purpose of hosting the spirits of fallen Nationalist soldiers. Instead, the shrines served various economic and social functions. Deities, martyrs from previous eras, and local worthies inhabited the shrines even after conversion. Locals and refugees used the shrines as shelters, farmland, and shops. During the Civil War, the Nationalists tried to reclaim the shrines, but the process was tenuous. One can imagine that these shrines, already populated with tenants and businesses, quickly shed their identity as the Nationalist Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines after 1949. But for the 1940s, these shrines were part of the deathscape throughout China, playing a key role in shaping the way by which wars were remembered.

Bureaucratizing Death As the massive number of deaths became visible to the nation, the state desired to make them legible—by categorizing casualties according to various principles. The Japanese invasion and the Nationalist-Communist conflict spurred the Republican government to expand its capacity for total mobilization, which necessitated greater efforts to track war casualties. In one such effort, the Nationalist government created multiple offices to keep records and compile biographies of the war dead. Each office focused on different facets of the posthumous identities. The Central Compensation Committee collected information on heroic party members. The Ministry of the Interior compiled biographical data on the military and civilian dead from reports submitted by county governments. Offices of the armed forces—the Ministry of Military Administration, the Military Affairs Commission, and the Joint Logistical Headquarters (Lianhe qinwu zong siling bu) under the

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Ministry of Defense—were in charge of collecting the names, home provinces, ranks, dates of death, and circumstances of death of combatants and of civilians acting as combatants as reported by local authorities, military units, newspapers, and acquaintances of the dead. As the retreating Nationalists relied on the general population to carry on the resistance against the Japanese Army, the vital statistics pertaining to military and civilian deaths were used not only to document and demonstrate the extent of the destruction inflicted by the Japanese but also to broadcast, normalize, and commend the sacrifices of ideal citizens. Without a central agency, statistics on the war dead were fragmentary. In 1941, the Central Compensation Committee compiled a list of 336 cases of Nationalist Party members who had died from March 1938 to December 1940 because of their participation in national protection (weiguo). The martyrs were grouped by home province and rank. Of 242 party members with recorded native places, 63 came from Hebei, 37 from Zhejiang, 22 from Hunan, 19 from Jiangsu, 15 from Guangdong, 12 from Henan, and 11 from Fujian. Anhui, Hubei, Jiangxi, and Shandong each had 8 cases. Yunnan, Heilongjiang, Shanxi, Hubei, Sichuan, and Suiyuan each had fewer than 7 cases. Of 203 cases with known ranks, over 55 percent were party members at the sub-county level, about 40 percent were party members at the county and municipal level, and 5 percent were at the provincial, special municipal (directly administered by the central government), and central levels. Death fell disproportionately hard on members of the lower ranks.103 More important were the categories by which the Central Compensation Committee organized cases of deaths: killed in battle, executed for refusing to surrender, and murdered by Han traitors, by other political parties, and by collaborationist governments. Such categories reflected the government’s expectation that the deaths of its most exclusive members had occurred because of their devotion and loyalty to the party-state. Notably, illness accounted for over one third of all cases and was the leading cause of death. Death by illness was framed as the consequence of contributing to the war effort. The Ministry of the Interior compiled information about locally enshrined martyrs. Counties collected ranks, education levels, circumstances of death, family members, and economic statuses of martyrs and submitted them to the provincial governments, which forwarded them to the Ministry of the Interior. The collected data appeared remarkable given the circumstances of war. Nearly four thousand martyrs were enshrined by 1941, and close to another two thousand were enshrined in 1942. The largest numbers of recorded martyrs came from inland provinces, such as Guangxi, Jiangxi,

12

6

5

1

0

0

11

3

4

3

1

0

23

6

13

4

0

0

63

27

18

12

4

2

8

4

2

2

0

0

CAPTURED AND DIED FROM ILLNESS EXECUTED FOR NOT KILLED BY HAN KILLED BY WHILE CONTRIBUTING TO SURRENDERING TRAITORS OTHER PARTIES THE WAR OF RESISTANCE OTHERS

161

76

50

27

6

2

TOTAL

Source: Adapted from “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” October 1939, Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee, Second Historical Archives, CEC SHA 1-711-208.

44

8

Subcounty

Total

5

County & municipal

30

1

Others

0

Provincial & special municipal

KILLED IN BATTLE

Cases of deceased Nationalist Party members from March 1938 to October 1939, compiled by the Central Compensation Committee

Central

Table 5.2

8

Total

1

14

3 13

5

6

0

2

0

69

23

27

18

1

0

10

5

0

2

3

0

54

10

20

19

5

0

7

3

4

0

0

0

0

175

49

62

53

11

Source: Adapted from “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” December 1940, Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee, Second Historical Archives, CEC SHA 1-711-208.

4

0

10

4

County & municipal

Subcounty

0

Provincial & 0 special municipal

Others

0

CAPTURED AND KILLED MURDERED BY DIED FROM ILLNESS KILLED IN EXECUTED FOR NOT BY ENEMY KILLED BY COLLABORATIONIST WHILE CONTRIBUTING TO BATTLE SURRENDERING BOMBING OTHER PARTIES GOVERNMENTS THE WAR OF RESISTANCE OTHERS TOTAL

Cases of deceased Nationalist Party members from November 1939 to December 1940, compiled by the Central Compensation Committee

0

Central

Table 5.3

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175

Henan, and Hunan. The northern provinces under Japanese control, such as Chahar, Heilongjiang, Jilin, and Rehe, and provinces outside the Nationalists’ influence, such as Gansu, Guizhou, Ningxia, Shanxi, Xikang, and Yunnan, reported few martyrs. The Ministry of the Interior’s report also included 1,922 other martyrs officially enshrined from 1941 to 1942. The vast majority of these (1,356) were officers and soldiers (jiangshi). Only 21 were civil bureaucrats (wenguan), and 80 were civilians (min). In almost all the reported cases, the martyr had died either in battle or because of refusal to surrender.104 Table 5.4 Enshrined martyrs in county Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines as of 1941 and 1942, compiled by the Ministry of the Interior PROVINCE Anhui

BY 1941

BY 1942

141

187

Chahar

0

1

Fujian

42

139

Gansu

3

4

93

122

Guangxi

1,581

2,224

Guizhou

13

18

Hebei

58

77

Guangdong

Heilongjiang Henan

0

1

356

451

Hubei

50

73

Hunan

212

461

Jiangsu

42

57

Jiangxi

756

1153

2

3

Liaoning

2

20

Ningxia

1

1

Rehe

0

2

141

143

Jilin

Shaanxi Shandong

80

96

Shanxi

12

15

Sichuan

177

216

Xikang

5

5

Yunnan

9

15

135

337

Zhejiang Unknown Total

6

17

3,917

5,838

Source: Adapted from “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, Ministry of the Interior, Academia Historica, MOI AH 026000013773A.

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Although party members were reported to die in five or six different ways, the cause of death for common soldiers was often given as “death in battle.” The generic phrase “death in battle” fit the reality of war, the expectation of the state, and the fact that little was known about these soldiers and the circumstances of their deaths. More importantly, death in battle reinforced the narrative of patriotic bravery. Occasionally, some specificities were added, such as “death in battle in an ‘anti-bandit’ campaign,” or “death in battle while resisting the Japanese enemy.” The report from Mianchi County in Henan included one longer variation: “Losing one’s life from being hit by bullets while exerting oneself to resist the enemy.”105 These reports contained few glimpses of individuality. In the same report submitted by Mianchi County, the entry for a man named Wang Yuting (王玉珽), who was a private first class of the Army Fourth Division, contained a more specific note: “Died from a head wound caused by a bullet.”106 His sophisticated name, with all three characters containing the radical 王/玉, may indicate a privileged family background. Because wealthy families were more likely to have taken refuge in the interior and thus avoided conscription and death, these reports made it clear that martyrdom became associated with lower economic class. Only 3 martyrs came from “well-to-do” (fuyu) families and only 86 from “moderately prosperous” (xiaokang) families, whereas 777 others had lived “poverty-stricken” (pinku) lives. The situation of the remaining half was listed as unknown. As for their vocational backgrounds, the dead were classified as merchants, peasants, spinners, scholars, soldiers, civil servants, artisans, physicians, and freelancers.107 Bereaved families were described in ten socioeconomic groupings: “ordinary” (pingchang), “self-sufficient” (zigei or zizu), “hardly sufficient” (shang ke weichi), “straitened” (kunnan), “without resources” (wuzhuo), “especially straitened” (tebie kunnan), “without means of livelihood” (wufa shenghuo), “incapable of self-sufficiency” (wuneng weichi), “suffering” (ku), and “without family members” (jiazhong wuren). All of them appeared to be variations of hardship, which reflected the reality of wartime China and heightened the virtue of sacrifice.108 The Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee (MACCC) was tasked with documenting and compensating fallen armed forces servicemembers and homeland-protecting civilians. It processed hundreds of thousands of documents. The committee reported that there were 300,000 wounded and 200,000 fallen servicemen from 1938 to 1941. The MACCC is reported to have processed almost a quarter of a million files (an) from 1938 to 1941, which included documents concerning injury inspection, continued

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compensation cases, disputes among relatives, and investigations of compensation cases. The MACCC approved the issuance of 237,555 compensation decrees (xu ling) and over 14 million yuan in death benefits.109 The majority of beneficiaries would have to collect their stipends from local governments. The MACCC is reported to have directly disbursed over 5.7 million yuan, as shown in the chart in table 5.5. The effort to collect information on the necrocitizenry continued after the war. In April 1946, the Ministry of Defense established the Historical Materials Bureau (Shiliao ju)—renamed the Historical Administration Bureau (Shizheng ju) a year later—to collect and preserve for eternity the biographies of servicemembers of meritorious service, who either were missing or died during the War of Resistance.110 In addition to processing information in the Nanjing office, representatives of the bureau were sent out to collect mementos, such as photographs, bloodstained garments (xueyi), and the like from family members, acquaintances, and offices where the fallen ones had served.111 Replacing the MACCC in August 1946, the Joint Logistical Headquarters’ Compensation Department took over the task of registering fallen soldiers and compensating bereaved families.112 The department also produced records like the List of Names of War of Resistance Wounded and Fallen Officers and Soldiers in the Nankou Campaign not only to publicize the names of martyrs but also to shape the narrative of the war.113 Nankou was the Great Wall pass located on the Hebei-Chahar border, where a month-long battle took place between the Japanese and Chinese armies in August 1937. During the Nankou Campaign (also known as Operation Chahar), the Japanese Army used advanced weaponry to overpower the Chinese side. The Japanese forces included the units of the Japanese Kwantung Army and the Mongolian Army of Prince De (Demchugdongrub, 1902–1966).114 The Chinese forces included Table 5.5 Stipends issued by the Military Affairs Commission from October 1938 to June 1941 (in yuan) SPECIAL STIPEND

WARTIME STIPEND

PEACETIME STIPEND

ANTI-BANDIT STIPEND

BURIAL FEES

TOTAL

1938

7,070

100,180

0

0

0

1939

515,480

100,180

240

0

0

615,900

1940

571,750

2,763,810

28,515

1,280

10,000

3,375,355

1941 Total

107,250

264,204

1,348,115

27,020

190

0

1,639,529

1,358,504

4,312,285

55,775

1,470

10,000

5,738,034

Source: Adapted from “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, Chongqing Municipal Archives, CMA 53-9-71.

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the National Revolutionary Army under the Nationalist general Tang Enbo (1898–1954) and several armies under regional leaders, such as Fu Zuoyi, Liu Ruming (1895–1975), and Yan Xishan (1883–1960).115 The extant part of the List of Names contains approximately 9,000 names of fallen servicemembers of the 13th Corps (the 89th and 4th Divisions) and the 17th Corps (the 21st Division) under Tang Enbo. The last extant page lists casualties of the 72nd Division of the 19th Corps under Fu Zuoyi.116 Collecting the dead overseas involved the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. As the Japanese Army marched into Southeast and South Asia, Chiang Kai-shek sent about 90,000 Chinese expeditionary troops (and many others unaccounted for in this official number) to US-run training camps in Britishoccupied Ramgarh, India. These troops were trained and armed to fight the Japanese in Burma. Because of military clashes, disease, and accidents, Chinese soldiers’ graves and other smaller burial sites sprouted along the Burma Road stretching from Kunming to Lashio. In India, another 20,000 Chinese officers and soldiers were buried in a number of cemeteries. Two graveyards were in Ledo—one at Mile Three and another at Mile Nineteen— on the Stilwell Road. The Mile Three site, a compound of about one square acre, had approximately 375 graves containing approximately 10 bodies each. The Mile Nineteen cemetery contained approximately 650 graves containing about 10 bodies each, according to the headstones. In Burma, there were over 2,000 graves scattered over various locations. The cemetery in Myitkyina contained the remains of 2 commanding officers, 116 junior officers, and over 1,600 soldiers. The cemetery in Namhkam contained 383 bodies, and the one in Bhamo 198 bodies. Numbers of bodies in the cemeteries in Mongyu and Lashio had not been obtained as of 1947.117 The numbers in official records were partial. In the aftermath of the war, tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers sporadically received posthumous care from Chinese veterans and diaspora groups under some direction and monetary support from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Nationalist government did not make any plan to repatriate these fallen soldiers.118 In June 1947, the Joint Logistical Headquarters compiled the Directory of Republic of China Loyal and Sacrificing Officers and Soldiers, which listed over a quarter million military deaths by home province, municipality, and county from 1926 to 1947.119 These casualties were collected from over 273 counties. Each county with martyrs submitted names in a booklet (ce). These booklets, the lengths of which ranged from a few pages to over a hundred, contained names, ages, ranks, units, categories of death, dates of death, and places of death. The casualties were divided into three periods: from the Northern Expedition to the beginning of the War of Resistance (1926–1937),

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the War of Resistance (1937–1945), and the early Civil War (1945–1947). Wartime deaths accounted for 94 percent of those listed. In most provinces, the recorded military casualties were in the tens of thousands. Taking into consideration the subsequent addition of another 200 counties, the recorded military casualties were about half a million.120 Despite incomplete data, this was the most extensive collection of war fatalities by the Nationalist government. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers who were neither related by blood nor buried together in a common ground became “fictive kin” of a national community by the virtue of having their names set together in the record.121 Local governments also organized committees to collect martyrs’ biographies and took initiatives to print their own compilations of martyrs’ biographies. The Guangdong All-Walks-of-Life Commemoration Committee printed the Special Issue to Mourn Air Force Patriotic Martyrs in 1938.122 Table 5.6 Military casualties from 1926 to 1947, compiled by the Joint Logistical Headquarters. PROVINCE

1926–1937

1937–1945

1945–1947

TOTAL 13,090

Anhui

810

12,280

0

Chahar

57

513

3

573

Gansu

62

2,890

49

3,001

362

12,865

55

13,282

91

12,799

108

12,998

Guangdong Guangxi Guizhou

96

8,431

43

8,570

2,225

9,519

168

11,912

Hubei

601

18,699

279

19,579

Hunan

4,014

39,741

165

43,920

Jiangsu

477

4,663

0

5,140

Jiangxi

270

8,272

34

8,576

Jilin

126

130

0

256

96

99

0

195

Hebei

Ningxia Rehe Shanxi Shaanxi

91

302

0

393

461

4,279

1,698

6,438

253

10,358

0

10,611

Shandong

1,640

18,265

111

20,016

Sichuan

66,977

1,698

63,581

1,698

Songjiang

46

37

1

84

Yunnan

48

20,548

75

20,671

Zhejiang Total

397

16,894

0

17,291

13,921

265,165

4,487

283,573

Source: Data from Li Qiang and Ren Zhen, eds., Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi ziliao huibian, vols. 1–13 (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan, 2012); and “Directory of Republic of China Loyal and Sacrificing Officers and Soldiers,” 1947, Modern Historical Documents, Shanghai Library.

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The Fifth Army Guinan Kunlun Battle Fallen Officer and Soldier Commemorative Volume was printed in 1940.123 Shanxi Province printed the Baoshan Fallen Cadre and Education Corps Special Issue in 1939.124 When Wu County in Jiangsu organized a public memorial service on December 23, 1945, the county War of Resistance Material Compilation Committee compiled a special edition of local martyrs’ biographies, titled Wu County War of Resistance Tales of the Fallen. The county submitted a copy to the State History Bureau in the hope of having the biographies incorporated into national records.125 After the War of Resistance, the process of collecting biographical information about civilian deaths became streamlined, as seen in the standardized form for Liu Bingduo, a fifty-eight-year-old teacher who fought against the Japanese with a knife. His eldest son, Liu Jiwen, completed the “Survey Form for Civilian Homeland Protector in the War Zone to Apply for Commendation and Compensation” and signed it with his personal seal. According to the form, when the enemy struck him, Liu Bingduo yelled “Long live the Republic of China!” and expired. Liu Bingduo’s grandparents, parents, brother, wife, and children were included on the form.126 The use of such forms was increasingly common in the 1940s. Petitioners could fill out these forms quickly and submit them to the government with no petition fees. The survey forms allowed bereaved families who had previously been deterred by the costs—in time and money—of pursuing their cases to appeal to the state.

Figure 5.3. Survey completed by Liu Jiwen for his deceased father. From Guomin zhengfu, Academia Historica, GMZF AH 001-036000-0156, file 50009028.

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Collecting the dead became an increasingly difficult task. Whereas in 1928, the Nationalist government reserved reparations for a few thousand party members, in 1947, the possibility of necrocitizenship was extended to virtually all civilians, many in areas that had not previously been under Nationalist control. The incorporation of the masses into the pantheon of the national dead signified the institutionalization of Nationalist ideology and its dissemination from small circles of dedicated followers—Nationalist Party members and National Revolutionary Army servicemen—to the broader population. Such incorporation imposed financial burdens, as is clear from the following examples. On December 9, 1947, the Ministry of the Interior received from the Guangxi provincial government a report on 106 civilian casualties in the previous month. Many of the dead were members of county and village self-defense militias who were recorded as “dying in battle while fighting the enemy” (kang di zhenwang). A number of women were listed as “being killed due to fighting the enemy” (kang di bei sha). Bereaved families of these dead civilians were granted one-time stipends of 60–85 yuan and annual stipends of 30–50 yuan for five or ten years. Given the hyperinflation, Guangxi requested to increase these amounts a hundredfold in 1947.127 In 1948, the provincial government again proposed to increase these death benefits, this time five thousandfold, to accommodate high prices, and petitioned that the Ministry of the Interior shoulder the cost. The Ministry of the Interior passed the request to the Ministry of Defense, which was just formed in 1946.128 As the Civil War raged on, no reply was further coming. In the late 1940s, families of martyrs often showed up during commemoration ceremonies to demand assistance. In 1948, over a hundred family members of martyrs confronted the mayor of Qingdao at the July 7 commemoration to hand over five demands for stipends, clothes, provisions, gain coupons, and tuition waivers. The group was frustrated with the lack of compensation while the government spent money on public ceremonies.129 The bureaucratic desire to classify the dead is driven by the modern state’s need to render reality into standardized reports and narrativize history in a way that benefits the state. The Nationalist government spent resources on crafting and propagating the narrative of patriotism. County governments compiled civilian deaths and reported them to provincial authorities, which in turn sent to the central government. In addition, casualties presented neatly in tables and charts, to borrow James Scott’s words, “[brought] into sharp focus certain limited aspects of an otherwise far more complex and unwieldy reality.”130 A bureaucracy besieged by war could list a small fraction of the casualties, and the biographies reflected only a small, and not at all

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representative, fraction of the confrontations between Japanese soldiers and Chinese civilians. Though incomplete and sparse, the names with military units and home counties could provide enough biographical coordinates to identify the dead who were listed. The Nationalist government’s collection of data was akin to what Thomas Laqueur calls “hyper-nominalism”—the bureaucratic commitment to gather and inscribe names of the dead on the Great War monuments, and more broadly, “necronominalism: the precise counting and marking of the dead.”131 The Chinese tradition has always demanded names as part of memorializing the dead, and the modern Chinese state invested considerable effort in naming the dead. More important, it made this effort to collect names of ordinary people—a democracy of naming.132

Narrativizing Violence The State History Bureau, which originated in the imperial era, was in charge of compiling official biographies of notable people, based on recommendations from individuals and groups.133 In 1911, Hu Hanmin, Huang Xing, and ninety-five others proposed to the Nanjing Provisional Government that a State History Academy be established. The plan was still unrealized when Sun Yat-sen yielded his presidency to Yuan Shikai in March 1912. The Beiyang government created the State History Bureau under the auspices of the Office of National Affairs in October 1912.134 In 1940, the Nationalist government in the wartime capital, Chongqing, established the State History Bureau Planning Committee. In 1946, the Nationalist government in Nanjing finally created its own State History Bureau, which was responsible for recording “loyal and sacrificial acts during the War of Resistance.”135 The bureau received information from “neighbors or fellow villagers of those who were entitled to commendation or fair-minded members of the gentry who were well-informed of heroic acts.”136 From December 1947 to 1949, the State History Bureau published seven issues of its institutional periodical, Guoshiguan guankan (State History Bureau Quarterly). The issues contained 142 biographies of prominent intellectuals, revolutionaries, and politicians, many of whom appear in previous chapters: Peng Jiazhen, Wu Luzhen, Zhao Sheng, and Song Jiaoren. Homeland-protecting citizens were memorialized in various government publications, which mythologized the national struggle between China and Japan and the racial struggle between the Chinese and the Japanese. Choosing the best submissions from county governments and military units, the Political Department of the Military Affairs Commission published the

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two-volume Directory of War of Resistance Outstandingly Courageous Servicemen and Civilians in Chongqing.137 The collected biographies portrayed ideal civilians as supporters of war and defenders of the cause even when facing violent death. The list included martyrs from all walks of life, from manor lords and students to peasants and cooks. Through these narratives, the martyrs were rhetorically incorporated into the nation-state. For instance, when the Japanese military tried to coerce Sun Futang, the lord of a mountain manor, to inform on the Chinese encampments, Sun turned against his Japanese captors and provided intelligence on Japanese movements to the Chinese troops. Sun volunteered to lead the way for the Nationalist Army. He was unfortunately blown apart by aerial bombing. Sun was commended by the government for his “profound consciousness of the righteous cause.”138 A university student, Zhao Zhishan, from Shanxi, was martyred in 1939. His last words were recorded: “I am a Chinese man [Zhongguo ren]. I am not a Han traitor [Hanjian]. I will not be a slave of a subjugated nation [wangguonu]. I protest the dwarf pirates [wokou]! Down with the dwarf pirates!” With such derogatory remarks, he angered the Japanese soldiers, who took out their swords and stabbed Zhao indiscriminately.139 Zhao identified himself as a Chinese man in opposition to the so-called dwarf pirates who raided the coastlines of China during the Ming dynasty. Despite the fact that many of these pirates came from China, “dwarf pirates” were associated with people from Japan. During the War of Resistance, some Chinese educators brought up the Ming-era “Japanese pirates” to highlight the origin of Japan aggression against China. Chinese textbooks emphasized the pirates’ modest stature to demarcate the racial difference between the Chinese and the Japanese.140 Therefore, Zhao’s final utterances marked him as both ethnically Chinese and a Chinese citizen. The war as depicted in Zhao’s words was not a conflict between two states: the Japanese Empire and the Chinese Republic, but a struggle between two racially antagonistic peoples. He was willing to lay down his life for his community. The repeatedly uttered “Chinese man” in many martyrs’ biographies, which were collectively constructed by survivors, local authorities, and the central government, implied a national consciousness and an attachment to the abstract idea of a national community.141 In many of these biographies, civilians from modest backgrounds became awakened to the political cause of the Nationalist government and subsequently joined the war effort. One such civilian was a peasant (nongmin) named Zhang Quanshen who informed the Nationalist government about the enemy’s movements in his village. As a result, Zhang was caught. Despite being tortured, Zhang refused to divulge any intelligence to the Japanese

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troops.142 Another peasant, named Zheng Qiujun, from Gao’an County in Jiangu voluntarily joined the 51st Division because he hated the enemy’s brutality. Zheng led the Chinese troops behind the enemy lines and helped kill over two hundred enemy soldiers.143 A forty-seven-year-old cook (chu fu) from Shandong, armed with his kitchen knives, entered the enemy’s encampments and slaughtered seven of them. Later, he joined the 81st Division. During an attempt to capture the enemy’s weapons, the former cook perished in the crossfire.144 In Zou Lu’s 1922 Huanghuagang, the audience was expected to “shed tears” over acts of martyrdom for the Republican cause committed by a few revolutionaries (chapter 1). In these 1940s biographies, however, the entire population was expected to make the ultimate sacrifice. The compilers of these Chinese martyrs’ biographies portrayed Japanese soldiers as immoral enemies who encroached on sacred lands and enslaved the elderly while the native common people displayed their virtue and loyalty at the expense of their own lives. An entry recounts that an elderly villager from the Zhou clan was taking shelter in the ancestral temple when enemy troops arrived and torched it. As he was being burned alive, Zhou exclaimed: “My head can be cut off, yet I cannot be dishonored.” The Nationalist government recognized him as a national martyr and compensated his family.145 In a biography titled “A Virtuous Mother from the House of Hu Deeply Conscious of the Righteous Cause,” a Mrs. Hu, née Li, refused to comply with the demands of her Japanese captors. Because Mrs. Hu’s son was a private first class in the Nationalist Army, the enemy arrested her and demanded that she persuade her son to betray the nation. She refused and was murdered in June 1942. In peril, Mrs. Hu remained calm and displayed awe-inspiring fortitude. The committee chief recorded her story and petitioned to award Mrs. Hu a plaque inscribed with “Exemplary Loyalty and Chastity” (zhongjie ke feng)—the honor reserved for chaste widows.146 Mrs. Hu had preserved her faithfulness not for the familial patriarch but for the national patriarch. Other biographies portrayed involvement in the war effort on the part of servicemembers’ relatives. In one instance, a father donated the stipend that he had received for his son’s death to the war effort.147 The implication was that the father had selflessly pledged the child’s life to the nation without expecting anything in return. In another instance, a man named Wang Guozheng, from a village in Henan and of moderate wealth, sent his four sons and his grandson into military service. Because he was fairly well off, Wang probably did not have to force his many sons into military service out of necessity. The first son was severely injured by explosives, the second and the fourth died in battle, and the third suffered from a head wound.

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The government awarded Wang Guozheng a plaque inscribed with “A Loyal Household (yimen zhongyi).”148 In other instances, fathers who were killed for sending their sons into the Chinese military were commemorated. Despite being threatened with execution by the Japanese troops, a man from Hubei refused to persuade his son, a guerrilla in the Chinese Army, to surrender. The father’s subsequent death at the enemy’s hands allegedly emboldened his son to kill more enemy soldiers. The father was praised for “vehemently dying as a martyr” (kangkai jiu yi) and for manifesting “exemplary martyrdom” (zhuanglie ke feng).149 Not only adults but also children were portrayed as eager participants in the war effort. For instance, a fourteen-year-old student was apprehended and forced to lead the way for the enemy. He refused to betray the nation and yelled “Long live China!” while being stabbed to death.150 When encountering a three-hundred-man Japanese detachment in 1941, a nine-year-old martyr from a town in Hunan bravely yelled, “Down with Japanese imperialism! Long live the Republic of China!” Because he intentionally angered the Japanese soldiers, he was shot.151 Such tales of precocious nationalism indicated that families and communities fostered and instilled patriotism in the younger generation. They also indicated that love for the nation and hatred for foreign invaders were capable of being cultivated at a very young age. In both perspectives, young children were not lamented as innocent victims of violence but celebrated as eager and conscious contributors to the war. Such narratives were evidence of “the wartime mobilization of children,” according to Margaret Tillman.152 By giving up their lives, children in these tales became citizens, with the expectation that they would be loyal to the state rather than filial to their parents. The incorporation of children into the national family, with their ultimate loyalty owed to the nation, influenced the course of history in later decades. In 1946, several members of the Legislative Yuan petitioned that they knew of “countless accounts of civilians everywhere who voluntarily fought the enemy” and that “such patriotism demonstrated the quintessence of [China’s] 5,000-year civilization.”153 These members argued that compensation regulations for government officials who gave up their lives for the war effort failed to apply to cases of “loyal and righteous citizens” (zhongyi zhi renmin). Because the future of the nation relied on loyal and righteous citizens, a particular law was needed to acknowledge their contributions. The Legislative Yuan’s Legal Committee drafted the regulations in February 1946. Subsequently, the Nationalist government promulgated the War of Resistance Martyr Commendation Regulations to honor “anyone who resisted foreign enemies regardless of being a serviceman or a civilian.”154 The regulations

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demonstrated how martyrdom was democratized, as civilians were included as supporters of and participants in war. According to the War of Resistance Martyr Commendation Regulations, both military and civilian martyrs would receive commendation tablets (bian’e). They would be given a state funeral, public funeral, or burial at the national martyrs’ cemetery (guoshang muyuan). Their spirits would be entered into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines or given commemorative steles (jinian fangbei). Those who received commendations would receive, in addition to reward certificates, reward stipends or compensation allowances, according to their need. The National Treasury would ensure that the reward stipends and compensation allowances reached martyrs’ families. The exact amount, however, was left unspecified. In the majority of cases, the Nationalist government did not grant monetary rewards. Martyrs’ contributions were recorded in the national historical archives, provincial gazettes, and county gazettes. For servicemembers and civilians entitled to receive commendation, the offices in charge were to compile details about their heroic feats and examine testimonies and forward them to the Ministry of the Interior or the pertinent office for approval. Neighbors or fellow villagers of those who were entitled to commendation or members of the gentry who knew of the heroic deeds should likewise inform their local government. Local governments were responsible for forwarding their petitions to the provincial and national authorities for commendation. During the Civil War, the Ministry of the Interior repeatedly instructed provinces to collect information about “civilians who were injured or killed while resisting the enemy” (kang di shangwang renmin) and “civilians who were injured or killed while protecting the homeland” (renmin shoutu shangwang).155 Family members, fellow villagers, baojia captains, and local police bureaus gathered the material and sent it to county governments. County governments organized the information, creating survey forms that displayed such biographical data as names, gender, age, occupation, hometown, death, place and circumstance of death, educational level, remaining relatives, family situation, and whether the family had received compensation. This information was then relayed to provincial governments. Eight provinces—Guangdong, Guangxi, Hebei, Henan, Hunan, Jiangxi, Shanxi, and Zhejiang,—submitted reports to the Ministry of the Interior. Take Hebei as an example of how provinces responded to the central government’s order to collect martyrs’ biographies. Most county surveys from Hebei listed only the dates of death and some generic descriptions, such as “killed for resisting the enemy,” which indicated that the deaths were the result of defiance. Counties that listed casualties in the tens and hundreds,

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such as Zhengding county, with 238 deaths, tended to be sparse in their descriptions, whereas counties with fewer deaths provided more detail. For example, Xingtai County reported the deaths of 48 people. Ten were shot in October 1937 and 35 perished when the Japanese soldiers invaded the county in 1938. The military police murdered 3 others in 1939. Except for a twenty-one-year-old merchant, everyone belonged to the peasant class.156 Liangxiang County listed 4 dead-in-combat militiamen who were socially and economically categorized as “peasants.”157 Miyun County provided biographical narratives for 15 fatalities. Among those killed was a thirty-twoyear-old man named Yi Zhengru, who had completed elementary school and “always harbored feelings for the homeland.” He was beaten to death by the Japanese police in July 1943. Another victim was forty-four-year-old Hu Wenfu, who was arrested by Japanese intelligence, transferred to Rehe, and later executed. Twenty-six-year-old Zhu Xianzhang defended the township against Japanese troops before being captured and sent to Rehe to be executed in 1941.158 The narrative of resistance was not simply imposed top down. Local authorities contributed to crafting patriotic hagiographies. For instance, the Henan provincial government petitioned the central government to commend Feng Rongyao, a district head and detachment leader of the Yiyang County militia. According to the Yiyang County head’s letter, Feng told the survivors, “You must try to kill the enemy and defend every inch of our homeland!” before breathing his last. The Ministry of the Interior proposed to apply the War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations and recommended filling out the survey form used to request compensation for officers and soldiers on active duty. Accordingly, the Nationalist state treated Feng’s death as that of a commissioned combatant. The Executive Yuan suggested awarding his family a special stipend of 20,000 yuan and a commemorative plaque.159 The national government, however, only approved the commemorative plaque, inscribed with “Defending the Homeland and Achieving Martyrdom” (shoutu chengren).160 As manifested by the bureaucratic trails of compensation cases, casualty records, and the construction of shrines, the Nationalist state gained significant allegiance from local governments and communities. This chapter has examined how the War of Resistance led China back to the exaltation of the use of force and the glorification of violence suffered by the general population that had characterized the late Qing and early Republican eras.161 Furthermore, by honoring civilians who were left to defend themselves and who doled out violence to invaders, the Nationalist government claimed national unity against a common enemy. Within the

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nation-state, the political authority monopolizes the use of force and protects civilians against violence. The laws of war, moreover, dictate that there to be a clear distinction between combatants and civilians. During the American Civil War, for example, soldiers on both sides generally observed the customary laws of war by respecting the lives of noncombatants and not directly targeting civilians with lethal violence.162 This was not the case in Republican China. By eliminating the distinction between military forces and the civilian population, the celebration of civilian deaths had a profound effect not only on modern China but also on the world at large. Sinisˇa Malesˇevic´ argues that the modern world has witnessed an unprecedented level of violence because of organizational and ideological developments that enable and legitimize brutality.163 In the case of twentieth-century China, one such ideological development was the nation-state’s granting to each of its members the right to die as a martyr. The necropower of the state was not limited to subjecting segments of the population to death. It included urging civilians to take their own lives in exchange for posthumous honors.

Epilogue “Every Chinese man has the responsibility to be a soldier citizen.” —Zou Rong, Revolutionary Army (1903)

How have the war dead shaped modern China? How did the Chinese Republic, plagued by war for most of its existence, deal with deaths in the tens of millions? The fall of the imperial state and subsequent wars did not destroy but strengthened the idea of the Chinese nation and the structure of the Chinese state. The multitude of the war dead— immobile and silent, but potent and efficacious—empowered both the imagination of the nation and the institutionalization of the state. Although the Communist forces prevailed in 1949, the Nationalist government had already laid the foundation for the modern nation-state through the governance of these millions of dead. Like other nation-state leaders, the Chinese Nationalists attempted to make the dead work for the nation-building and state-making enterprise. The first task of governing the dead was to delineate the good deaths of those who had sacrificed for the nation from the bad deaths of those who had not. In the 1910s and 1920s, Nationalist Party members, who had been disenfranchised both by late imperial politics and by the outcome of the 1911 Revolution, crafted the new ideal of the Republican revolutionary. Although aspiring to become a Confucian scholar-bureaucrat was no longer institutionally supported by the imperial civil service examination (which was abolished in 1905), Confucian virtues remained the foundation of Chinese politics and society. The new revolutionary martyr thus was 189

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depicted as having led a virtuous life before dying a violent death. A violent demise, especially at one’s own hands, was un-Confucian, but necessary and desirable in the age of revolution. Preserving social and familial norms compensated for the unfilial act of seeking death. The Nationalist compensation law assured the revolutionary martyr that his widow would remain chaste, that his parents would be provided for until death, and that his heir would pursue an education and prolong the lineage. For those without a family, the state promised them an afterlife in local shrines where their spirits would receive proper sacrifices. By doing so, the Revolutionary Alliance, the Nationalist Party, and the Nationalist government persuaded countless young men and women to join its National Revolution—fighting against foreign imperialism and domestic woes and building China. Although the possibility of becoming a Confucian scholar-bureaucrat was out of reach for the vast majority of the population, joining the revolutionary cause was possible for many men and even women. The institutional capacity to manage the dead—to narrativize and memorialize unprecedented mass destruction and to promise relief for the grieving living—was critical to the formation of the modern nation-state in China. The War of Resistance against the Japanese Army developed and intensified the idea of China as a nation. Offering sacrifice to the dead and compensating the bereaved contributed to this development. In the ritualized space of county Loyal Sacrifice Shrines on national commemoration days, the departed yet present, the lifeless but potent, and the rigid but moldable were conjured as ancestral citizens of the new nation-state, lending legitimacy to the weak central government. The presence of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in many localities and the public sacrifices to a recognized group of the dead at regular intervals in the 1930s and 1940s allowed the living to imagine being part of a collective. Periodic collective mourning helped enable the imagination of China as a coherent community. In the first half of the twentieth century, when the fragmented reality of China undermined the geographical imagining of the national community, historical imagining based on memorializing past generations was ever more necessary. The new rhetoric of honoring the war dead, made ubiquitous in newspapers and public places, was crucial in cultivating citizenship. In the 1930s, sacrifice ceremonies at Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines were exclusive to party and local government representatives and relatives and only held in core provinces under Nationalist control. In the 1940s, large gatherings of the entire community in open spaces replaced exclusive sacrificial rites within the confines of temples in many parts of China, such as in Guangzhou and Zhangyuan. Mass-scale commemorative events, often featuring military

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power, such as in Chongqing and Nanjing, reinforced state legitimacy and projected the state’s capacity to a domestic audience. The masses were organized to attend memorial services. Prominent commemorative structures were planned in major sites, and some were successfully constructed. The traditional dates for the spring and autumn sacrifices were abolished in favor of more politically relevant dates that specifically commemorated the War of Resistance. New forms and practices of commemoration, such as a modernist and inclusive ambiance, came into vogue. Commemoration turned death into an inalienable part of the making of the modern Chinese nation-state. Each the metaphorical presence of each enshrined spirit in a government-mandated shrine evoked nationalistic sentiments among the living. Each martyr’s native place and site of death, as recorded by the bureaucracy, manifested as boundaries of the state’s political reach. Each bereaved family, granted a death benefit and honored with a memorial plaque, became beholden to the regime. The Nationalist regime accomplished a few of its goals, among which was creating the narrative of China as a nation. This narrative was not straightforward. Trails of paperwork reveal how the Nationalist government encountered resistance and defiance, from high-ranking lawmakers contesting the value of the commendation law and blocking the passing of new martyrdom regulations to county governments refusing to pay families of the nationally recognized martyrs and making Nationalist heroes share the sacred space with idols steeped in superstition. Commendation and compensation laws allowed the first three decades of the twentieth century to be rewritten with the Nationalist Party in the role of enlightened leadership. By idolizing those who died at the hands of the imperialist Manchus, reformers, monarchist supporters, separatist federalists, warlords, and Communists, the Nationalist regime of 1928 delegitimized other contenders for power and condemned other political options for China. Even during the total war, when the stipends were no longer forthcoming from the retreating state, receiving an official document in recognition of the death of one’s relative produced some consolation. Yet, such official recognition of martyrdom was far from benign. Death granted Chinese people membership in the nation-state, as the sacrifice of life was the ultimate proof of their devotion. Necropolitics is not only the power of the state to expose segments of a country’s citizens to death but also the power of the nation to turn death into a desire. Such a morbid requirement for citizenship did not make the Chinese state any more sinister than, say, the United States. Tens of thousands of immigrants and asylum-seekers serve in the United States Armed Forces as green-card troops, risking their lives in warzones in

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exchange for the opportunity to become citizens. Some have been awarded citizenship posthumously.1 Compensation regulations also allowed the Nationalist state to enter the familial sphere and place the living under surveillance. Some women could appeal to the state and leverage their status of martyrs’ widows to fend off greedy relatives, they had to remain chaste and maintain the patriline for the rest of their life. The Nationalists reinforced rather than reformed traditional gender norms. The Chinese nation-state was thus molded to be politically revolutionary but socially conservative. Although this book is about the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek, it is noteworthy that the Communist regimes and Wang Jingwei’s collaborationist government shared many of the same principles, such as providing posthumous care for the worthy dead and financial support for bereaved families of Red Army soldiers and Peace Movement soldiers, respectively. Other regional governments might not have been diligent in keeping records or might have had much of their limited bureaucratic prints destroyed by political turmoil. The Soviet government in Hubei, Henan, and Anhui issued the Wounded and Fallen Red Soldier Compensation Regulations in 1932. The regulations promised to award a one-time stipend to the family of each fallen soldier, but did not specify the amount. The Soviet government also granted sons and younger brothers tuition waivers.2 In 1935, the Red Army’s Compensation Committee was established in order to provide another source of protection for the Red soldiers. The Soviet government in the ShaanxiGansu-Ningxia border region planned to award an annual stipend of twenty silver dollars to each family of a fallen soldier and five to fifteen silver dollars to each wounded soldier depending on his or her disability. Even though “serving in the Red Army is the utmost glory,” a promise of compensation was needed to boost morale.3 The People’s Republic of China (PRC) issued various regulations for compensating servicemembers, civilian fighters (minbing) and workers, and families of martyrs and soldiers on November 25, 1950. For instance, the Provisional Wounded and Fallen Civilian Fighter and Laborer Compensation Regulations awarded civilians who cooperated with military or publicsecurity troops, participated in war-related activities, or carried out armed struggle behind enemy lines. Stipends would be paid in the form of provisions instead of money at six rates based on article 3 of the Provisional Revolutionary Injured and Disabled Servicemembers Preferential Compensation Regulations. The kind of grain would be decided by the county or municipal government, who would be in charge of distributing compensation to local

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residents. Fallen civilian fighters and workers would be treated according to article 2 of the Provisional Fallen Revolutionary Servicemember Commendation and Compensation Regulations. They would be buried and honored with the title of martyr. Each bereaved family would also receive 500 jin (roughly 500 pounds) of provisions from the local government according to the Commemorative Certificate of Honor for Families of Revolutionary Fallen Civilian Fighters and Workers.4 In the 1950s, the Communist-led government also commemorated some Nationalist soldiers who had been proved not to have engaged in “counter-revolutionary activities” since the end of the War of Resistance.5 The war over the dead intensified. The defeated Nationalist government took over the Japanese-era National Protection Shrine in Taipei and turned it into the shrine for the Chinese loyal dead. With its newfound status as the seat of the Republic of China (ROC), the island of Taiwan was made to adopt the ancestral revolutionaries of the Nationalist Party. Chiang Kai-shek ordered that Japanese features be removed from the National Protection Shrine, including the torii gate. The properly hung sign in 1958 read “Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine” in Chiang’s calligraphy.6 Traditional Chinese architectural elements, such as curved roofs and intricate lattices, adorned the three-bay gate. The site served as the provisional capital Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine before gaining its national status. In 1969, Chiang Kai-shek turned the shrine into a magnificent structure resembling Beijing’s Forbidden City and renamed it the National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine (Guomin geming zhonglie ci). Initially estimated at 36 million yuan, the project ended up costing 17 million yuan over budget, an expense that was shouldered by the central government, the Taiwan provincial government, and the Taipei municipal government. The finished shrine occupies an area of 52,000 square meters (about 13 acres), of which 10 percent is covered by the structure and 90 percent is open space. Managed by the Ministry of Defense, the shrine honors over 400,000 martyrs, individually and collectively. The Central Executive Committee approved of how the shrine “expressed the national characters of solemnity and grandeur.”7 The renovated shrine demonstrated that Chiang Kai-shek had kept his promise to the loyal soldiers by ensuring that they would forever receive sacrifices from the republic. The sign on top of the great hall in Chiang’s calligraphy can only be read from up close: “National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine, 1969, dedicated by Jiang Zhongzheng.”8 During the fifteen-month renovation, Chiang personally inspected the site seventeen times, despite his declining health. Chiang never failed to perform the biannual spring and autumn sacrifices until late 1971, when he was too ill to continue.9 The new

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shrine also accepted new inhabitants, including Chinese immigrants from the mainland and Taiwanese aboriginals who resisted Japanese colonial rule (1895–1945). During the Cold War, a thirty-minute stop at the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine was part of the itineraries of visiting foreign officials from Bolivia, Dahomey (Benin), the Gambia, Iran, Italy, Nicaragua, Nigeria, Panama, Paraguay, the Philippines, South Vietnam, Spain, and the United States. Given the oneChina policy, the Nationalist Party strove to reinforce its claim to be the legitimate sovereign over China against that of the Communist Party by having foreign diplomats “lay a flower wreath and pay homage” (xianhua zhijing) to the Nationalist martyrs. Although the end of martial law in 1987 terminated the dictatorship of the Nationalist Party in Taiwan, the Martyrs’ Shrine continued its ritual function under the first Taiwan-born president, Lee Teng-hui (1923–2020), and the first Democratic Progressive Party (DPP, Minjin dang) candidate to win the presidential election, Chen Shui-bian. Chen challenged the legacies of the Nationalist Party by turning Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Square into Liberty Square in 2007 and calling for the removal of thousands of Chiang’s statues from public areas. Chen, however, is reported to have conducted the spring and autumn sacrifices as prescribed.10 Although the Martyr’s Shrine and its rituals were a Nationalist Party creation, they were embraced by the DPP leadership. The shrine has become a national symbol that transcends contentious party politics. On the western outskirts of Beijing, the Eight Treasures Mountain complex, which had been converted into the Nationalist Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine after the War of Resistance, was turned into a cemetery for prominent figures and foreign supporters of the Chinese Communist Party. It was said that Premier Zhou Enlai was looking for an idyllic but accessible place to bury the revolutionary martyrs. When the Eight Treasures Mountain site was chosen, the eunuchs’ graves were removed so as to not to commingle “feudal palace servants” with revolutionary bodies. The 1951 Temporary Rules for Burial in the Revolutionary Cemetery dictated that high-ranking cadres and distinguished scholars and artists would be eligible for a lot in the sacred ground. Their ranks and reputation also determined the size of their graves. The first Communist Party leader to be buried there was Ren Bishi (1904–1950).11 Ren’s casket was laid in state in the Imperial Ancestral Temple (Taimiao), moved to the Working People’s Cultural Palace (Laodong renmin wenhua gong), and paraded through the main streets of Beijing before being laid to

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rest at Eight Treasures Mountain.12 Prominent figures such as Qu Qiubai (1899–1935) were reburied at the site.13 Anna Louise Strong (1885–1970) and Agnes Smedley (1892–1950) were among the “foreign friends” who were buried at the Eight Treasures Mountain Revolutionary Cemetery (Babao shan geming gongmu) for their contributions to the Communist Revolution.14 As space of the Eight Treasures Mountain Revolutionary Cemetery became scarce, the government bought more land, limited the size of burial plots, and encouraged cremation. Ashes of high-ranking Communist Party members are placed in a columbarium, where bereaved families can visit during the Qingming festival.15 The holy ground of the Chinese Communist Party appears serene and understated. Tucked away up the hill on the second to last stop of subway line 1, the revolutionary cemetery nowadays is mostly out of the public eye. From Eight Treasures Mountain Station, one can walk up the hill into the cemetery compounds, where many layers of tile-roofed buildings with blue- and red-glazed decor show their Republicanera imprints. The cemetery garden is adorned with manicured pines and conifers symbolizing loyalty and longevity. Like the Yellow Flower Hill Commemorative Park, the Eight Treasures Mountain Revolutionary Cemetery is adorned with eclectic tombs and symbols. The PRC and the ROC have engaged in a war over sovereignty over the dead. As the two governments become less and less likely to pose armed threats to each other, they pick new venues for their rivalry. Memories of past wars have become bones of contention. Forgotten war graves have become sites of contestation. The spirits of soldiers and civilians have become sources of sovereign power. The war over the dead manifests in the commemoration boom on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. Although the Communist Party kept traditional architectural features of the Eight Treasures Mountain Revolutionary Cemetery, it adopted Soviet socialist aesthetics for other major commemorative structures. The Monument to the People’s Heroes was constructed in Tiananmen Square in the 1950s to commemorate martyrs from the Opium Wars (1839–1842, 1856–1860) to the Nationalist-Communist Civil War. The huge granite obelisk situated along the central north-south axis of the ritual center of China’s capital was a cultural production to affirm the legitimacy of the Chinese Communist Party, rewrite China’s history according to Marxist principles, and establish the regime’s control over the nation’s collective memory.16 A memorial to the Korean War built in Liaoning in 1958 adopted the familiar socialist realism style, complete with giant stone sculptures of martyrs.17

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After the Cultural Revolution, the memory wave surged. Grand-scale memorials, monuments, and museums were added to the PRC commemorative landscape, such as the Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders, the Museum of the War of Chinese People’s Resistance against Japanese Aggression in Beijing, and the Monument to the People’s Heroes in Shanghai. The commemorative rhetoric also changed multiple times. During the 1950s–1970s, China avoided denouncing Japan’s role in World War II.18 The end of the Cold War “set in motion new interpretations of the wartime past” in Asia.19 The 1990s marked another shift in commemorative politics in China and Taiwan.20 News of a war cemetery discovered in Yunnan near the Burmese border was among the “profusion” of books, memoirs, television serials, documentaries, monuments, and so forth that testified to “the enormous shift” in the way that the PRC remembered World War II.21 Among many new commemorative creations, the Longhua Martyrs’ Cemetery was constructed in 1995 on the execution site used by the Nationalists. The twenty-first century has witnessed the height of this wave of commemoration, with numerous renovations and commemorative activities.22 China’s unprecedented economic growth made it ever more eager to review its past. Since the 2000s, governments on both sides of the Taiwan Strait have been making tremendous efforts regarding the Chinese soldiers’ graves from World War II. During the presidency of Ma Ying-jeou (2008–2016), who belonged to the Nationalist Party, the shrine saw increased activity. In 2008, the ROC’s Ministry of Defense set up a task force to investigate the fate of Nationalist soldiers in Papua New Guinea. In 2009, the ministry sent a mission to the southwestern Pacific to identify and restore the grave sites of Nationalist soldiers in Rabaul, a town on the island of New Britain.23 The history of these Chinese soldiers in the South Pacific became even more complex when it was uncovered that Taiwanese colonials had been employed not only to interpret for the Japanese occupiers but also to guard Nationalist Chinese prisoners of war.24 In 2012, the ROC government spent $250,000 renovating Chinese graves in Ramgarh, India, where the Nationalist expeditionary soldiers had been trained by the Allied force.25 The new cemetery resembled a small version of the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum in Nanjing, with the road to the main building lined with conifers. The main gate sports an ROC flag. A statue of Chiang Kai-shek occupies the center of the courtyard.26 The PRC consul general in Calcutta in 2018 expressed China’s intention to turn the cemetery in Ramgarh into a “global tourist destination,” to the dismay of ROC government.27 On July 7, 2013, the seventy-sixth anniversary of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, the PRC organized an entering-the-shrine ceremony at the Nanyue

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Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine for the expeditionary soldiers who died in Burma during World War II. The China Daily put forward an account of these Chinese soldiers sacrificing their lives to save seven thousand British soldiers and five hundred prisoners in Burma. The photographs accompanying the article show local people dressed in white—the funerary color—and surviving comrades in army uniforms bowing to a giant spirit tablet.28 On August 27, 2014, an enshrinement ceremony took place at the Taipei National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine for the fallen Chinese soldiers in the Burma Campaign of 1942–1943. The wooden tablet carrying the souls of 56,000 Chinese expeditionary soldiers was transported from Myitkyina to Taipei and placed on the altar among others by the ceremonial guards. During the autumn sacrifice, Ma Ying-jeou paid homage to the expeditionary soldiers from Burma after their spirits were brought “home.” He reportedly wiped away tears while watching a documentary about the return of these soldierly spirits. Descendants of Burma Campaign generals invited to the ceremony expressed their satisfaction that the spirits could now “forever enjoy the sacrificial offerings.”29 Even with the DPP heading the government, President Tsai Ing-wen and her cabinet members duly attend the enshrinement and annual sacrifice ceremonies at the National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine. Although the second presidential victory of the DPP in 2016 led to a decline in the shrine’s symbolic power, President Tsai Ing-wen has trod carefully on the issue. In contrast to her predecessor Ma and the Nationalist Party, Tsai and her party take a strong stance on Taiwan independence and against the legacy of the republic under Chiang Kai-shek and his son Chiang Ching-kuo (1910–1988). During her first year in office, it was reported that Tsai held a minimal ceremony at the shrine. Whereas previous presidents had spent half an hour offering flowers and delivering elegies, Tsai simplified the ceremony to six minutes. She not only skipped the tribute ceremony to the Yellow Emperor—a precedent set by Ma Ying-jeou—but also canceled the ritual of “paying homage from afar” (yaoji) to the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum in Nanjing during her swearing-in ceremony, a ritual performed by all previous ROC presidents.30 Tsai’s initial defiance at the Martyrs’ Shrine was supported by a pro– Taiwan independence group that protested outside the shrine during her visit. They urged her “not to follow in the steps of the authoritarian KMT [Nationalist] regime and lock the nation into a China-centered historical perspective” and to convert the shrine into “a memorial hall commemorating Taiwanese who sacrificed their lives fighting foreign colonists.” Tsai in return voiced her desire to commemorate the White Terror victims who

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were murdered by the Nationalist government from 1947 to 1987.31 After Tsai’s actions at the Martyrs’ Shrine made the news, Tsai allegedly performed the appropriate ritual during the autumn sacrifice.32 During the spring sacrifice in 2018, she was photographed comforting martyrs’ families and shaking hands with veterans.33 In 2015, the PRC sent representatives to Rabaul to perform a memorial service at the Cemetery of War Veterans and Victims in the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression and to acknowledge the local Chinese migrant communities who have maintained the site since the end of World War II. The PRC also asserted that at least four Communist soldiers were among the Chinese prisoners of war who had died in Rabaul.34 It is crucial for the PRC to prove its participation in World War II to gain both domestic and international legitimacy. The legacies of war loom large in the age of new media technologies. When I conducted research in Chongqing in September 2015, during the Seventieth Anniversary of Victory against Fascism celebrations, the Municipal Archives were closed for three business days. So was the entire country. The internet, filtered through a Virtual Private Network, slowed to a crawl, and all television channels broadcast live the same scene of world leaders shaking hands and military parades at Tiananmen Square. China-wide social media buzzed with posts about the event, as if everyone in China were participating in Beijing’s war commemoration. Turning off the television, shutting down the computer, and throwing out the newspaper did not guarantee isolation from the event. One could still learn about it through street posters. Residents inside their homes were also not immune to the commemoration, which was locally broadcast through the ubiquitous loudspeakers secured on wired poles along the streets. The party-state’s single narrative of the past was inculcated to an unprecedented extent. Such intensity is not common in contemporary Taiwan. Yet, the legacy of the republic remains robust despite the decline of the Nationalist Party. The National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine continues to discover and enshrine new martyrs, many of whom died in the War of Resistance and others at the hands of the Communist government. A notable case is that of Zhao Zhongrong (1905–1951), an army commander who was arrested during the Chinese Civil War and subsequently executed in Beijing. Zhao was finally enshrined in 2018 after his daughter, Zhao Anna, spent twenty years petitioning the Executive Yuan.35 In an interview, Zhao Anna, having returned for the occasion from the United States, expressed her satisfaction that her father’s spirit in the Taipei Martyrs’ Shrine had been returned his “old home” (guxiang) and fatherland (zuguo).36 Enshrinement of these martyrs privileges the

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Nationalist Party’s historical role, but it also opposes the People’s Republic narrative of one China. The dead are politically powerful. Both the ROC and the PRC experience transformative moments, such as extraordinary economic growth and new political leadership. The two governments try to conjure up the once-forgotten war dead to help craft their new identities, allegiances, and alliances in the twenty-first-century world order.

Appendix

Major Commemoration and Compensation Regulations

1914

Commendation Regulations 褒揚條例 (revised in 1917, 1923, and 1931) Commendation Regulation Implementation Rules 褒揚條例施行細則 (revised in 1917, 1923 and 1931) 1927

Party Member Compensation Regulations 黨員撫卹條例 Government Official Stipend Regulations 官吏卹金條例 1928

Jiangsu Province Revolutionary Martyr Provisional Compensation Regulations 江蘇省旌卹革命先烈暫行條例 March 29, 1911, Martyr’s Family Compensation Regulations 撫卹辛亥 三月二十九殉國烈士家族條例 Provisional Wartime National Revolutionary Army Compensation Regulations 國民革命軍戰時撫卹暫行條例 (revised as Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations 陸海 空軍戰時撫卹暫行條例) Provisional Peacetime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations 陸海空軍平時撫卹暫行條例

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Martyr Sacrifice Offering Measure 烈士祠祀辦法 State Funeral Law 國葬法 1929

Party Member Compensation Regulation Implementation Rules 黨員撫 卹條例施行細則 Government Official Stipend Regulation Implementation Rules 官吏卹 金條例施行細則 (revised in 1930) Measure to Compensate Pre-Oath National Revolutionary Army Servicemembers Who Died for the Revolution 國民革命軍誓師日 以前為革命殉難軍人撫卹辦法 1930

State Funeral Ritual 國葬儀式 1932

International War Meritorious Army, Navy, and Air Force Servicemember Compensation and Encouragement Measure 陸海空軍國際戰爭 有功將士獎敘辦法 International War Army and Air Force Servicemember Preferential Compensation Measure 陸軍空軍國際戰爭撫卹從優辦法 Jiangxi Fujian Hunan Hubei Counties Self-Defense Anti-Communist Militia Officer and Militiaman Honor Conferral and Bereaved Family Preferential Treatment Measure 贛閩湘鄂縣保衛團剿赤陣亡員丁 旌表及遺族優待辦法 1933

Measures to Offer Sacrifices to Martyrs and Construct Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and Memorial Steles 烈士祠祀及設立忠烈祠紀念 坊碑辦法 Bandit-Infested Area Anti-Bandit Civilian and Military Official and Servicemember Reward and Punishment Regulations 剿匪區內文武官 佐士兵剿匪懲獎條例 1934

Civil Servant Stipend Regulations 公務員卹金條例 Civil Servant Stipend Regulation Implementation Rules 公務員卹金條 例施行細則

MAJ OR COMMEMORAT ION AND COMPENSAT I O N R EG U L AT I O N S

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Provisional Anti-Japanese Fallen Servicemember Advanced Stipend Measure 抗日陣亡將士卹金暫行辦法 1935

Provisional Wartime and Peacetime Army Compensation Regulations 陸軍平戰時撫卹暫行條例 Provisional Wartime and Peacetime Navy Compensation Regulations 海 軍平戰時撫卹暫行條例 Provisional Wartime and Peacetime Air Force Compensation Regulations 空軍平戰時撫卹暫行條例 National Revolutionary Army Fallen Officer and Soldier Public Cemetery Grave Reparation Regulations 國民革命軍陣亡將士公墓修正 營葬條例 1936

Measure to Construct County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines 各縣設立忠烈祠 辦法 Measure to Locally Construct Public Cemeteries for Fallen Officers and Soldiers 各地建築陣亡將士公墓辦法 Measure to Organize Public Banquets for the Wounded and the Exceptionally Meritorious 受傷及有特殊勛勞者之公宴辦法 1937

Times of Emergency Police Force Compensation and Reward Provisional Regulations 非常時期獎卹警察暫行辦法 1938

Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Citizen Compensation Measure 人民守土傷亡撫卹實施辦法 War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations 戰地守土獎勵條例 War of Resistance Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Teacher Preferential Compensation Measure 抗戰守土傷亡教育人員從優核 卹辦法 War of Resistance Wounded and Fallen Civil Bureaucrat Preferential Compensation Standards 抗戰傷亡文職人員從優核卹標準 1939

Wartime Provisional Compensation Standards for Baojia Captains and Lianbao Chairmen Injured or Killed While on Duty 戰時鄉鎮保甲長 暨聯保主任因公傷亡給卹暫行標準

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1940

Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Establishment and Maintenance Measure 忠烈祠 設立及保管辦法 War of Resistance Fallen Loyal and Sacrificing Official and Civilian Sacrifice Offering and Commemorative Tablet Construction General Guidelines 抗敵殉難忠烈官民祠祀及建立紀念坊碑辦法大綱 War of Resistance Fallen Loyal and Sacrificing Official and Civilian Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Enshrinement Ceremony 抗戰殉難忠烈官民 入祀忠烈祠儀式 Civil Servant Preferential Compensation Regulations 公務員特種撫 卹條例 Citizen Militia Soldier Differential Compensation Measure 國民兵撫卹 劃分辦法 Provisional Wartime Wounded and Fallen Militarily Recruited Worker Compensation and Burial Measure 戰時軍事徵僱民伕傷亡撫卹及 埋葬費暫行辦法 Provisional Army Compensation Regulations 陸軍撫卹暫行條例 1942

Provisional Air Force Compensation Regulations 空軍撫卹暫行條例 1943

Provisional Navy Compensation Regulations 海軍撫卹暫行條例 Wartime Public Service Recruited Worker Compensation Regulations 戰時僱員公役給卹辦法 1946

War of Resistance Martyr Commendation Regulations 褒揚抗戰忠烈 條例 Measure to Collect War of Resistance Servicemembers’ Loyal and Sacrificing Records 抗戰軍人忠烈錄徵集辦法 Measure to Collect War of Resistance Historical Materials 抗戰史料徵 集辦法 Measure to Collect Historical Materials for Rewarding and Encouraging Purposes 徵集抗戰史料獎勵辦法

Ch arac ters

ai 愛 an 案 Babao shan 八寶山 Babao shan geming gongmu 八寶 山革命公墓 Bai Chongxi 白崇禧 baojia 保甲 baoyang fuxu tiaoli 褒揚撫卹條例 Beifang ansha tuan 北方暗殺團 Beijing ansha 北京暗殺 Beijing xianlie jinianci 北京先烈紀 念祠 Beiyang 北洋 Bi Yongnian 畢永年 bian 籩 bian’e 匾額 Bixue Huanghua ji 碧血黄花集 Boyi 伯夷 bu si 不死 Cai E 蔡鍔 Cai Gongshi 蔡公時 Cai Jimin 蔡濟民 Cai Zhonghao 蔡鐘浩 ce 冊 ceshi 側室 chang luan 倀亂 Chen Gengxin 陳更新 Chen Jingyue 陳敬岳 Chen Jiongming 陳炯明 Chen Lifu 陳立夫 Chen Qicai 陳其采 Chen Shui-bian 陳水扁

Chen Yushen 陳與燊 cheng e zhi fa 懲惡之法 Cheng Ronggan 程榕幹 Cheng Yaochen 程耀宸 chengxi 承襲 chi fei 赤匪 Chiang Kai-shek ( Jiang Jieshi) 蔣介 石, also Jiang Zhongzheng 蔣中 正 chouyong 酬庸 Chu ci 楚辭 chu fu 廚夫 chun ji 春祭 congjun zuozhan renyuan 從軍作 戰人員 Da Han zhonglie ci 大漢忠烈祠 Da zhao 大招 Dai Jitao 戴季陶 Dai Mingyun 戴明允 daibiao zang 代表葬 Dali yuan 大理院 dang hua 黨化 Dang shi hui 黨史會 dang zang 黨葬 dangguo 黨國 Dangwu zhidao weiyuanhui 黨務 指導委員會 dayang 大洋 diyu waiwu 抵禦外侮 Dongzheng 東征 Du Xi 杜羲 Duanfang 端方

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CHARACTERS

dui 敦 fabi 法幣 fading jicheng 法定繼承 Fan Hongxian 范鴻仙 Fan Zhuxian 范築先 Fang Benren 方本仁 Fang Shengtao 方聲濤 Fang Shengtong 方聲洞 Fazhi ju 法制局 fei 匪 feichang jingfei 非常經費 feichang shiqi 非常時期 fenfa jingshen wei guo nuli 奮發精 神為國努力 Feng Yuxiang 馮玉祥 Fu Zuoyi 傅作義 fuwu sheng 服務生 fuyu 富裕 gaige 改革 Gaizu guomin zhengfu 改組國民 政府 Gelaohui 哥老會 geming jinian ci 革命紀念祠 Geming jinian hui 革命紀念會 Geming jun 革命軍 geming xianlie 革命先烈 Gokoku jinja 護国神社 gongfei 共匪 gonghe guojia 共和國家 gongji 公祭 gongwuyuan 公務員 Guan Yu 關羽 guangfu 光復 Guangfu hui 光復會 Guangguo 光國 guobi 國幣 Guofang bu 國防部 Guofang zuigao huiyi 國防最高會 議

guomin bing 國民兵 Guomin geming jun 國民革命軍 guomin geming zhonglie ci 國民革 命忠烈祠 Guomin zhengfu 國民政府 Guomindang 國民黨 guoshang 國殤 guoshang muyuan 國殤墓園 Guoshiguan 國史館 Guoshiguan guankan 國史館館刊 Guoshiyuan 國史院 guozang 國葬 guxiang 故鄉 Hanjian 漢奸 Hanzu 漢族 haoqi chang cun 浩氣長存 haoyang 毫洋 he 和 He Jian 何鍵 He Laibao 何來保 He Yingqin 何應欽 He Zhen 何震 Hong Kejun 洪克儁 Hong Xuelu 洪雪廬 honghonglielie 轟轟烈烈 Hu Hanmin 胡漢民 Huabao 華報 Huang Fu 黃郛 Huang Shaohong 黃紹竑 Huang Xing 黃興 Huanghuagang 黃花崗, variant: 黃 花岡 Huanghuagang Fujian shi jie jishi 黄 花岡福建十傑紀實 Huguo jun 護國軍 hun 魂 Jia li 家禮 jian tiao zi 兼祧子 Jiang Yiwu 蔣翊武

CHARACTERS

jiangshi 將士 jianqie 賤妾 jiao 教 jiao chi 剿赤 jiao fei 剿匪 jiaoyu wenhua kuan 教育文化款 jiazhong wuren 家中無人 jie 傑 (hero) jie 節 (chastity) jie xiao 節孝 jilao 積勞 jilao binggu 積勞病故 Jing Wumu 井勿幕 jingcha guanli 警察官吏 jinghuang 驚慌 jinian 紀念 jinian fangbei 紀念坊碑 Jinling guangfu 金陵光復 jisi 祭祀 Jiu ge 九歌 ju cheng 具呈 jugong 鞠躬 Junshi weiyuanhui 軍事委員會 Junshi weiyuanhui fuxu weiyuanhui 軍事委員會撫卹委員會 Junzheng bu 軍政部 junzhu zhidu 君主制度 kang di 抗敵 kang di bei sha 抗敵被殺 kang di shangwang renmin 抗敵傷 亡人民 kang di zhenwang 抗敵陣亡 Kang Shude 康淑德 kangkai jiu yi 慷慨就義 kapian 卡片 Kong Xiangxi (H. H. Kung) 孔祥熙 kou 寇 ku 苦 kuang 狂

207

kunnan 困難 Lan Tianwei 藍天蔚 Laodong renmin wenhua gong 勞 動人民文化宮 Lee Teng-hui 李登輝 li 里 Li Yuanhong 黎元洪 Li zhi guan 禮制館 Li Zongren 李宗仁 lianbao 聯保 Liang Qichao 梁啟超 Liangbi 良弼 Lianhe qinwu zong siling bu 聯合 勤務總司令部 Liao Danru 廖淡如 liefu 烈婦 lienü 烈女 lieshi 烈士, variant: 列士 Li Hongzhang 李鴻章 Liji 禮記 Lin Guanci 林冠慈 Lin Jinjian 林金堅 Lin Juemin 林覺民 Lin Sen 林森 Lin Yimin 林尹民 ling 靈 lingding guku 零丁孤苦 Liu Daoyi 劉道一 Liu Fuji 劉復基 Liu Lin 劉霖 Liu Ruming 劉汝明 Liu Yaochen 劉堯宸 Long Jiguang 龍濟光 longluo renxin 籠絡人心 Lu Renyu 陸任宇 Lu Rongting 陸榮廷 Lu Weiye 陸偉業 ludeng 鑪鐙 Lunyu 論語

208

CHARACTERS

Ma Fuyi 馬福益 ma kou bi yu feng ren zhe 罵寇斃 於鋒刃者 Ma Ying-jeou 馬英九 Manren 滿人 meide 美德 Mengzi 孟子 mimi jiehun 秘密結婚 min 民 minbing 民兵 minghuan 名宦 Minjin dang 民進黨 minsheng 民生 minzhong 民眾 minzu 民族 minzu sixiang 民族思想 Minzu zhengqi, juanqu wei guo, zhong mou xun yuan 民族正 氣。捐軀衛國。忠侔巡遠 Nanyue 南岳 Nei san yuan 內三院 ni 逆 Ni Sichong 倪嗣冲 Niu Yongjian 鈕永建 nongmin 農民 nüliu mingbo 女流命薄 nüxing 女性 pei’ou 配偶 Peng Chufan 彭楚藩 Peng Jiazhen 彭家珍 Peng Shousong 彭壽松 Ping Sui tielu tebe dangbu 平綏鐵 路特別黨部 ping 平 Ping-Liu-Li 萍瀏澧 pingdeng 平等 pinku 貧苦 po 魄 qi 妻 (wife) qi 泣 (to weep)

qing 情 qiqie 妻妾 qiu ji 秋祭 Qiu Jin 秋瑾 qiyi 起義 Qu Qiubai 瞿秋白 Qu Yuan 屈原 Rao Fuyan 饒輔延 ren 仁 Ren Bishi 任弼時 ren ji ai e 忍饑挨餓 renmin shoutu shangwang 人民守 土傷亡 rezheng 熱症 ru ci 入祠 ru ci an wei 入祠安位 Sanguo yanyi 三國演義 shang ke weichi 尚可維持 shanghan 傷寒 Shao Yuanchong 邵元冲 shashen (yi) chengren 殺身(以)成 仁 Shehui bu 社會部 Shehui ju 社會局 shen 神 Shencha weiyuanhui 審查委員會 sheshen er quyi 捨身而取義 shi 士 (scholar-gentleman) shi 氏 (née) Shi Jianru 史堅如 Shi Taojun 石陶鈞 Shiji 史記 Shiliao ju 史料局 Shizheng ju 史政局 shoutu 守土 shoutu chengren 守土成仁 shuidu 水毒 sifa guan 司法官 Sima Qian 司馬遷 sizi 嗣子

CHARACTERS

Song Jiaoren 宋教仁 Song Yuanyuan 宋淵源 Soong Ching-ling 宋慶齡 Soong Mei-ling 宋美齡 sui 歲 Sun Yat-sen (Sun Zhongshan) 孫中 山 Sun Yuanliang 孫元良 Taimiao 太廟 Tan Sitong 譚嗣同 Tan Yankai 譚延闓 Tang Caichang 唐才常 te xu 特 卹 tebie kunnan 特別困難 Tiexue jun 鐵血軍 tongju 同居 Tongmenghui 同盟會 tongxin 同心 tongzhi 同志 Tsai Ing-wen 蔡英文 Wang Jingwei 汪精衛 Wang Shijie 王世杰 wangguonu 亡國奴 wei dang fendou beihai 為黨奮鬥 被害 Wei Rongchu 韋榮初 Wei Tongling 韋統鈴 weiguo 衛國 Weiguo zhenwang jiangshi yizu fuyu hui 衛國陣亡將士遺族撫育會 weiwangren 未亡人 Wen guan 文館 Wen Shengcai 溫生才 wen wu guan min 文武官民 wenguan 文官 (civil bureaucrat) Wenmiao 文廟 Wenxue she 文學社 wokou 窩寇 wu diwei 無地位 Wu Luzhen 吳祿貞

209

Wu Xinghan 吳醒漢 Wu Yue 吳樾 wufa shenghuo 無法生活 wuneng weichi 無能維持 wuzhuo 無著 Xi’nan zhengwu weiyuanhui 西南 政務委員會 xian zongli 先總理 xiang’an 香案 xiangji baoguo 相機報國 xiangxian 鄉賢 Xiangxian ci 鄉賢祠 xianhua zhijing 獻花致敬 Xian jun Liu Lin lieshi xunguo shilüe 先君劉霖烈士殉國事略 xianlie 先烈 Xiannong tan 先農壇 xiao 孝 Xiao Hanjie 蕭漢傑 xiao’er 小兒 xiaoji 消極 xiaokang 小康 xiaoyang 小洋 xin 信 xing 鉶 Xing Zhong hui 興中會 xingzheng ducha zhuanyuan 行政 督察專員 xinshi 信史 Xiong Chengji 熊成基 xu ling 卹令 Xu Shangzhi 徐上致 Xu Shichang 徐世昌 Xu Shiying 許世英 Xu Xilin 徐錫麟 Xu Xiujun 徐秀鈞 Xu Zonghan 徐宗漢 Xue Dubi 薛篤弼 xuerou hengfei 血肉橫飛 xueyi 血衣

210

CHARACTERS

xun 殉, variants: 侚 and 狥 xundang 殉黨 xunguo 殉國 xunnan 殉難 xunsi 殉死 xunyi 殉義 xunzheng ganshi 訓政幹事 xunzhong 殉忠 Yan Xishan 閻錫山 yang 養 Yang Hongsheng 楊洪勝 Yang Shuzhuang 楊樹莊 Yang Zengxin 楊增新 Yang Zhuolin 楊卓林 Yao Yuping 姚雨平 yaoji 遙祭 yi 義 yi lei xilian 以淚洗臉 Yi Ruilin 易瑞林 yi shen xuncheng 以身殉城 yi wei yinghun 以慰英魂 yi xu 義卹 yilie ke feng 義烈可風 yimen zhongyi 一門忠義 yimin 義民 yin yuan 銀元 ying 營 ying wu wuce 仰屋無策 yiqi 義氣 yongjiu xujin 永久卹金 you guo zisha 憂國自殺 you jiangjun 右將軍 youfen juanqu 憂憤捐軀 Yu Xinggen 俞興根 Yu Zhimo 禹之謨 Yuan Shikai 袁世凱 yuanhen 怨恨 Yue Fei 岳飛 Zaifeng 載灃 zaihun 再婚

zaijiao 再醮 Zeng Guofan 曾國藩 Zhang Mingqi 張鳴岐 Zhang Renjie 張仁傑 Zhang Shiying 張世膺 Zhang Zhijiang 張之江 Zhang Zhizhong 張治中 Zhang Zizhong 張自忠 zhanqu 戰區 Zhao Sheng 趙聲 Zhao Zhongrong 趙仲容 Zhaohun 招魂 Zhaozhong ci 昭忠祠 Zheng Lie 鄭烈 Zheng Zuoheng 鄭佐衡 Zhengshi tang 政事堂 zhenlie liufang 貞烈流芳 zhi xing chunjie, shi lü shenchen 志 行純潔, 識慮深沉 zhiji 知己 zhong 忠 Zhong Mingguang 鐘明光 Zhongguo ren 中國人 zhonghun 忠魂 zhongjie ke feng 忠節可風 zhonglie 忠烈 Zhonglie ci 忠烈祠 Zhonglie ci jili 忠烈祠祭禮 zhonglie cun 忠烈村 Zhongyang fuxu weiyuanhui 中央 撫卹委員會 Zhongyang tebie weiyuanhui 中央 特別委員會 Zhongyang zhengzhi huiyi 中央政 治會議 Zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui 中 央執行委員會 Zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui fuxu weiyuanhui 中央執行委員 會撫卹委員會

CHARACTERS

zhongyi zhi renmin 忠義之人民 zhongzhen aiguo 忠貞愛國 Zhou Weizhen 周維楨 Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi) 朱熹 Zhu Zhixin 朱執信 zhu’an 祝案 zhuangding 壯丁 zhuanglie ke feng 壯烈可風 Zhuji chu 主計處 zigei 自給

Zijin shan 紫金山 ziyou 自由 zizu 自足 Zongli yishu 總理遺囑 zou gou 走狗 Zou Lu 鄒魯 Zou Rong 鄒容 zu 俎 zuguo 祖國 Zuo Zongtang 左宗棠

211

Notes

Introduction

1. One scholar argues that fifteen to twenty million died as a result of the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) alone. Odd Arne Westad, Decisive Encounters: The Chinese Civil War, 1946–1950 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003), 29. Another scholar puts the deaths during the Chinese Civil War (1945–1949) to be more than nine million. Diana Lary, China’s Civil War: A Social History, 1945–1949 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 3–4. A different author estimates three-and-a-half million deaths from 1900 to 1937, fourteen million from the Second Sino-Japanese War and five million from the Chinese Civil War. R. J. Rumple, China’s Bloody Century: Genocide and Mass Murder since 1900 (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 1991), v. 2. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nations (London: Verso, [1983] 2006). 3. “Yuan” referred to the silver dollar (yin yuan), the currency used in China from the fall of the Qing Empire until 1935, when the Nationalist government issued the guobi (national currency), officially known as the fabi (legal currency). 4. Lu Hanchao, The Birth of a Republic: Francis Stafford’s Photographs of China’s 1911 Revolution and Beyond (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2010), 44–45. 5. “E shu tong jian san yi ci” [Hubei approved to build shrine to three martyrs], Shenbao [Shanghai News], March 24, 1912. 6. “San lieshi congci buxiu yi” [The three martyrs are immortal from now on], Shenbao [Shanghai News], June 23, 1912. 7. “Wuchang zhuidao hui jishi” [Wuchang memorial service report], Shenbao [Shanghai News], October 6, 1912. 8. “E jiang wangu gonghe hun” [The everlasting Republican spirits of Hubei], Shenbao [Shanghai News], December 23, 1912. 9. “Mrs. Peng, née Hu’s petition,” March 21, 1928, Guomin zhengfu (hereafter, GMZF) Academia Historica (hereafter, AH), Taipei and Xindian, 001-036001-0003, file 50009247. 10. “Wu Xinghan to national government,” June 8, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360010003, file 50009249. 11. “Hubei provincial government to national government,” August 12, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036001-0003, file 50009251. 12. “Executive Yuan to national government,” August 22, 1929, GMZF AH 001036001-0003, file 50009253. 13. “Xu Xingfa to national government,” August 6, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360010003, file 50009254.

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14. Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015). 15. Drew Gilpin Faust, This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008). 16. Achille Mbembe, “Necropolitics,” Public Culture 15, no. 1 (2003): 11–40. 17. David Hawkes, trans., Ch’u tz’u: The Songs of the South—An Ancient Chinese Anthology of Poems (Oxford: Clarendon, 1959). A newer translation can be found in Gopal Sukhu, trans., The Songs of Chu: An Anthology of Ancient Chinese Poetry by Qu Yuan and Others (New York: Columbia University Press, 2017). 18. Burton Watson, trans., The Complete Works of Zhuangzi (New York: Columbia University Press, 2013), 134; Jia Yi, Xinshu jiaozhu, annot. Yan Zhenyi and Xia Zhong (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2000), 56. In addition, in the first comprehensive history of China—Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian)—Sima Qian (145 BCE–ca. 85 BCE) used lieshi to describe Boyi, who refused to eat anything that belonged to the new Zhou dynasty. Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian: Han Dynasty I, trans. Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 449. 19. The new meaning of lieshi in Republican China, “one who dies for a righteous cause,” has a connotation similar to that of Christian martyrdom. With the rise of Christianity, “martyr” came to denote a witness of Jesus who could later give testimonies to audiences. Before long, “martyr” became one who would rather die than deny the faith. Alistair Mason and Haddon Willmer, “Martyrdom,” in The Oxford Companion to Christian Thought, ed. Adrian Hastings, Alistair Mason, and Hugh Pyper (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 411–12. 20. Henrietta Harrison, The Making of the Republican Citizen: Political Ceremonies and Symbols in China, 1911–1929 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 107. 21. Katherine Carlitz, “Shrines, Governing-Class Identity, and the Cult of Widow Fidelity in Mid-Ming Jiangnan,” Journal of Asian Studies 56, no. 3 (1997): 614, 635. 22. Janet M. Theiss, Disgraceful Matters: The Politics of Chastity in EighteenthCentury China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), 33. 23. Following in death had more to do with human sacrifice in the Shang imperial cult than voluntarily committing suicide to demonstrate loyalty. David N. Keightley, “Early Civilization in China: Reflections on How It Became Chinese,” in Heritage of China: Contemporary Perspectives on Chinese Civilization, ed. Paul S. Ropp (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 28–31. 24. James Legge, trans., The Sacred Books of China: The Texts of Confucianism, Part III, The Li Ki, I–X (Oxford: Clarendon, 1885), 182–84. 25. Cited in Mark C. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity in Qing China,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 41, no. 1 (1999): 48. 26. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity,” 48. 27. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity,” 48. 28. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity,” 48 29. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity,” 48. 30. I rely on the definition of state making in Prasenjit Duara, Culture, Power, and the State: Rural North China, 1900–1942 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988), 2. Duara summarizes ideas from Charles Tilly, The Formation of the National States in Western Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975).

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31. Russ Castronovo, Necro Citizenship: Death, Eroticism, and the Public Sphere in the Nineteenth-Century United States (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001), 4. 32. Citizenship in China has been discussed, but not necrocitizenship. See Joshua A. Fogel and Peter Zarrow, eds., Imagining the People: Chinese Intellectuals and the Concept of Citizenship (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1997); Harrison, Making of the Republican Citizen; Merle Goldman and Elizabeth J. Perry, eds., Changing Meanings of Citizenship in Modern China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002); Robert Culp, Articulating Citizenship: Civic Education and Student Politics in Southeastern China, 1912–1940 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2007). 33. Margaret E. Dorsey and Miguel Díaz-Barriga, “Patriotic Citizenship, the Border Wall, and the ‘El Veterano’ Conjunto Festival,” in Transnational Encounters: Music and Performance at the U.S.-Mexico Border, ed. Alejandro L. Madrid (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 223. 34. Dorsey and Díaz-Barriga, “Patriotic Citizenship,” 211. 35. For example, “There was almost no government relief and no compensation for deaths, injuries, lost income, or property. There was a horrible finality to damages suffered; they were almost certain to be permanent. Physical injuries were likely to be fatal, given the dearth of medical care. The loss of a husband or father meant destitution; there were no state pensions for the injured or for the dependents of the dead.” Diana Lary and Stephen MacKinnon, introduction to The Scars of War: The Impact of Warfare on Modern China, ed. Diana Lary and Stephen MacKinnon (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2001), 5. 36. Charles R. Kim and Jungwon Kim, introduction to Beyond Death: The Politics of Suicide and Martyrdom in Korea, ed. Charles R. Kim et al. (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2019), 16. 37. From 1941 to 1945, compensation amounts were increased by thirty times. Amounts were increased by a hundred times in 1946, by six hundred times in 1947, and by a thousand times in 1948 to catch up with inflation. “Nationalist Party’s Central Executive Committee annual stipend certificates,” 1928–1948, Central Executive Committee (hereafter, CEC), Second Historical Archives (hereafter, SHA), Nanjing, 1-711-281. 38. Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, trans. Daniel Heller-Roazen (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998), 89. 39. Jay Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning: The Great War in European Cultural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 78. 40. Ancestor worship has been well researched in anthropology. See, for example, Emily M. Ahern, The Cult of the Dead in a Chinese Village (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1973). People in different societies, such as in Transylvania and the former Yugoslavia, also feed the dead to enjoy the ancestors’ blessing. Katherine Verdery, The Political Lives of Dead Bodies: Reburial and Postsocialist Change (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000), 43. 41. Roel Sterckx, Food, Sacrifice, and Sagehood in Early China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 42. Rebecca Nedostup’s study of temple riots in Jiangsu Province illustrates how Nationalist leaders condemned religious affiliations and ties as superstitions while convincing the public to adopt nationalistic feeling and loyalty to the party as a new form of religiosity. The Nationalists ultimately failed because of the incoherent and

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unconvincing critique of religion, a lack of resources, strong and creative responses from the affected population, and the dispersed nature of Chinese religion in practice. Nedostup, Superstitious Regimes: Religion and the Politics of Chinese Modernity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2009), 5–11. 43. Tobie Meyer-Fong, What Remains: Coming to Terms with Civil War in NineteenthCentury China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013), 108–9. 44. Robert Bartlett, Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things? Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), 3. 45. Winter, Sites of Memory, 60, 61. 46. Meyer-Fong, What Remains, 142. 47. Some scholars use “worship” to convey the sense of political reverence and ideological devotion to larger-than-life figures, such as Sun Yat-sen. Chen Yunqian, Chongbai yu jiyi: Sun Zhongshan fuhao de jiangou yu chuanbo (Nanjing: Nanjing daxue chubanshe, 2009). 48. I use Charles Tilly’s definition of nation building, cited in Duara, Culture, Power, and the State, 2. 49. Ellen Neskar, “Shrines to Local Former Worthies,” in Religions of China in Practice, ed. Donald S. Lopez, Jr. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 293–305. For more on the boom of Local Worthies’ Shrines during the Song dynasty, see Ellen Neskar, “The Cult of Worthies: A Study of Shrines Honoring Local Confucian Worthies in the Sung Dynasty (960–1279)” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 1993). 50. Carlitz, “Shrines, Governing-Class Identity,” 633. 51. Seunghyun Han, “Shrine, Images, and Power: The Worship of Former Worthies in Early Nineteenth Century Suzhou,” T’oung Pao 95, no. 1 (2009): 167–95. 52. William T. Rowe, Saving the World: Chen Hongmou and Elite Consciousness in Eighteenth-Century China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001), 440. 53. James Bonk, “Chinese Military Men and Cultural Practice in the Early Nineteenth Century Qing Empire (1800–1840)” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2014); James Bonk, “Loyal Souls Come Home: Manifest Loyalty Shrines and the Decentering of War Commemoration in the Qing Empire (1724–1803),” Late Imperial China 28, no. 2 (2017): 61–107. 54. Meyer-Fong, What Remains, 141. 55. Meyer-Fong, What Remains, chap. 5. 56. For more on war commemoration in the Song and pre-Song eras, see Mark Halperin, “Buddhist Temples, the War Dead, and the Song Imperial Cult,” Asia Major, 3rd. ser., 12 no. 2 (1999): 71–99. 57. Richard von Glahn, “The Enchantment of Wealth: The God Wutong in the Social History of Jiangnan,” Harvard Journal of Asian Studies 51 no. 2 (1991): 679n92. 58. Carlitz, “Shrines, Governing-Class Identity,” 628–29. City gods were closely linked to the local administration. During the Qing dynasty, local officials, Daoist clerics, yamen (local administrative office in imperial China) staff, incorporated neighborhoods, devotional voluntary associations, merchant guilds, and gentryrun charitable halls participated in managing and organizing worship at City God Temples. Angela Zito, “City Gods, Filiality, and Hegemony in Late Imperial China,”

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Modern China 13 no. 3 (1987): 333–71; Vincent Goossaert, “Managing Chinese Religious Pluralism in Nineteenth-Century City God Temples,” in Globalization and the Making of Religious Modernity in China: Transnational Religions, Local Agents, and the Study of Religion, 1800–Present, ed. Thomas Jansen, Thoralf Klein, and Christian Meyer (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2014), 33. 59. To the Nationalist regime’s credit, it was, as Julia C. Strauss writes, difficult to build a viable state “when nearly everything in the immediate environment served to undermine central institution building.” Strauss, Strong Institutions in Weak Polities: State-Building in Republican China, 1927–1940 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 7. 60. State making is defined by Patricia M. Thornton as effort to “not only to impose a particular moral order within which the state can claim primacy but also to make the presence of the state at the center of that totalizing vision appear both natural and necessary.” Thornton, Disciplining the State: Virtue, Violence, and State-Making in Modern China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2007), 4. 61. Henrietta Harrison, “Martyrs and Militarism in Early Republican China,” Twentieth-Century China 23, no. 2 (1998): 41–70. 62. I borrow this idea from Atsuko Hirai, Government by Mourning: Death and Political Integration in Japan, 1603–1912 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2014), 378. 63. For more on Guan Yu, see Barend J. ter Haar, Guan Yu: The Religious Afterlife of a Failed Hero (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017); Prasenjit Duara, “Superscribing Symbols: The Myth of Guandi, Chinese God of War,” Journal of Asian Studies 47, no. 4 (1988): 778–95. For more on Yue Fei, see Don J. Wyatt, “Unsung Men of War: Acculturated Embodiments of the Martial Ethos in the Song Dynasty,” in Military Culture in Imperial China, ed. Nicola di Cosmo (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 192–218. 64. Kirk A. Denton, Exhibiting the Past: Historical Memory and the Politics of Museums in Postsocialist China (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2014). 65. Chang-tai Hung, Mao’s New World: Political Culture in the Early People’s Republic (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011). 66. Akiko Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine: History, Memory, and Japan’s Unending Postwar (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2015). 67. Heonik Kwon, After the Massacre: Commemoration and Consolation in Ha My and My Lai (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006); and Heonik Kwon, Ghosts of War in Vietnam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). 68. Lary and MacKinnon, introduction to Scars of War, 6. 69. Timothy Brook, “Funerary Ritual and the Building of Lineages in Late Imperial China,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 49 no. 2 (1989): 491. 70. Zou Lu, ed., Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (n.p., 1922), biography section, 48. I located a copy of this volume in the National Central Library, New Taipei City, Taiwan. 71. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 29. 72. John N. Lipman and Stevan Harrell, eds., Violence in China: Essays in Culture and Counterculture (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1990). 73. Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975); Winter, Sites of Memory.

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74. Louise Edwards and Lili Zhou, “Gender and the ‘Virtue of Violence’: Creating a New Vision of Political Engagement through the 1911 Revolution,” Frontiers of History in China 6 no. 4 (2011): 499. 75. Faust, This Republic of Suffering. 76. Nicolas Schillinger, The Body and Military Masculinity in Late Qing and Early Republican China: The Art of Governing Soldiers (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2016), 228. 77. See a contemporaneous account of a Vietnamese revolutionary, Nguyen Thai Hoc (1902–1930) in Christopher E. Goscha, “Annam and Vietnam in the New Indochinese Space, 1887–1945,” in Asian Forms of the Nation, ed. Stein Tonnesson and Hans Antlov (Richmond, UK: Curzon, 1996), 116–17. 78. James J. Sheehan, Where Have All the Soldiers Gone? The Transformation of Modern Europe (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2008). 79. I borrow Paul Cohen’s “mythologization” of the past, which he defines as the generation of history in newspapers, periodicals, and books in later periods. Cohen, History in Three Keys: The Boxers as Event, Experience, and Myth (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997). 80. See, for example, Suzanne Pepper, Civil War in China: The Political Struggle, 1945–1949 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978); James C. Hsiung and Steven I. Levine, eds., China’s Bitter Victory: War with Japan, 1937–1945 (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1992); Stephen R. MacKinnon, Diana Lary, and Ezra F. Vogel, eds., China at War: Regions of China, 1937–45 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007); Westad, Decisive Encounters; Mark Peattie, Edward J. Drea, and Hans van de Ven, eds., The Battle for China: Essays on the Military History of the Sino-Japanese War of 1937–1945 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011); James Flath and Norman Smith, eds., Beyond Suffering: Recounting War in Modern China (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011); R. Keith Schoppa, In a Sea of Bitterness: Refugees during the Sino-Japanese War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011); Rana Mitter, Forgotten Ally: China’s World War II, 1937–1945 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013). 81. Some scholars have proposed the concept of a prolonged war or interconnected war. In her published article and book manuscript in progress, Rebecca Nedostup argues that China and Taiwan experienced “a long war” that lasted from 1937 to 1959. Nedostup, “Burying, Repatriating, and Leaving the Dead in Wartime and Postwar China and Taiwan, 1937–1955,” Journal of Chinese History 1 (2017): 115. S. C. M. Paine maintains that three “nested wars” took place in Asia (including Russia) in the first half of the twentieth century. Paine, The Wars for Asia, 1911–1949 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 82. The book relies on the 1,571 compensation cases of martyrs’ families, with the vast majority from the National History Archives in Taipei, and the rest from the Beijing Municipal Archives, Guangdong Provincial Archives, Jiangsu Provincial Archives, Nanjing Municipal Archives, and Shanghai Municipal Archives. 1. Manufacturing Republican Martyrdom

1. Henrietta Harrison, The Making of the Republican Citizen: Political Ceremonies and Symbols in China, 1911–1929 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 152–53.

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2. For example, the Minli News, founded in 1910, served in its early days as the headquarters of the Revolutionary Alliance. Hu Ying, “Enemy, Friend, Martyr: Commemorating Liangbi (1877–1912), Contesting History,” Late Imperial China 38, no. 1 (2017): 30n65. For more on the publication of the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs’ accounts, see Pan Shaw-yu, “Ganshang de liliang: Lin Juemin ‘Yu qi juebie shu’ de zhengdianhua licheng yu shehui wenhua yiyi,” Taida wenxue bao 45 (2014): 278–79. 3. Zheng Lie, Huanghuagang Fujian shi jie jishi, in Man-Qing baishi, ed. Lu Baoxuan (Shanghai: Xin Zhongguo tushuju, [1912] 1913), 161–209. 4. Zou Lu, ed., Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (n.p., 1922), biography section, 46–49. 5. Keith McMahon, Misers, Shrews, and Polygamists: Sexuality and Male-Female Relations in Eighteenth-Century Chinese Fiction (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1995), chap. 5. 6. Wolfgang Schivelbusch, The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning, and Recovery, trans. Jefferson Chase (New York: Picador, 2004), 19–20. 7. Jay Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning: The Great War in European Cultural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 108. 8. Laurence A. Schneider, A Madman of Ch’u: The Chinese Myth of Loyalty and Dissent (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), chaps. 2–3. 9. Elizabeth J. Perry, Anyuan: Mining China’s Revolutionary Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012). 10. Chen Sung-chiao, “Zhen da Han zhi tiansheng—minzu yingxiong xipu yu wan-Qing de guozu xiangxiang,” Zhongyang yanjiuyuan jinshisuo jikan 33 (2000): 77–158. 11. “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng xun jiang qian Qing Xiang Chu Huai jun zhaoshong ge ci gaijian wei da Han zhonglie ci wen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: Provinces shall convert Qing Hunan-Hubei-Huai River Armies’ Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 22, 1912, 2–3; “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng dudu jiang qian-Qing zhongyi ge ci fenbie gaijian da Han zhonglie ci dianwen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: All provinces shall convert Qing Manifest Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao, no. 20, 1912, 4. 12. I use “racial ethnicity” because the character zu has been translated as both “race” and “ethnicity.” For a discussion of racial and ethnic identities, see the introduction in Pamela Kyle Crossley, A Translucent Mirror: History and Identity in Qing Imperial Ideology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). 13. Edward J. M. Rhoads, Manchus and Han: Ethnic Relations and Political Power in Late Qing and Early Republican China, 1861–1928 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000), 12–17; Marie-Claire Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, trans. Janet Lloyd (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998), 108–11. 14. Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, 82–83, 95. 15. Rhoads, Manchus and Han, 97–98, 104. 16. Rhoads, Manchus and Han, 104–6. 17. Edward S. Krebs, Shifu, Soul of Chinese Anarchism (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 65–66.

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18. Krebs, Shifu, 73–74. 19. Hu Ying, “Qiu Jin’s Nine Burials: The Making of Historical Monuments and Public Memory,” Modern Chinese Literature and Culture 19, no. 1 (2007): 138–91. 20. For more on Yu Zhimo, see Stephen R. Platt, Provincial Patriots: The Hunanese and Modern China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 137–39. For the Ping-Liu-Li Uprising, see Perry, Anyuan, 23–26. For more on the Society of Elders and Brothers, see Perry, Anyuan, 32–36. 21. “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng xun jiang qian Qing Xiang Chu Huai jun zhaoshong ge ci gaijian wei da Han zhonglie ci wen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: Provinces shall convert Qing Hunan-Hubei-Huai River Armies’ Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 22, 1912, 2–3. 22. “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng xun jiang qian Qing Xiang Chu Huai jun zhaoshong ge ci gaijian wei da Han zhonglie ci wen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: Provinces shall convert Qing Hunan-Hubei-Huai River Armies’ Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 22, 1912, 2–3. 23. “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng dudu jiang qian-Qing zhongyi ge ci fenbie gaijian da Han zhonglie ci dianwen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: All provinces shall convert Qing Manifest Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 20, 1912, 4. 24. “Lujun bu tonggao gesheng dudu jiang qian-Qing zhongyi ge ci fenbie gaijian da Han zhonglie ci dianwen” [Ministry of the Army’s public announcement: All provinces shall convert Qing Manifest Loyalty Shrines and the likes into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 20, 1912, 4. 25. “Lujun bu qing jiang qian-Qing zhaozhong ge zhuanci fenbie gaijian da-Han zhonglie ci cheng” [Ministry of the Army’s request Qing Manifest Loyalty Shrines and similar shrines to be converted into Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 51, 1912, 15–16. 26. See Kwang-Ching Liu and Richard Shek, Heterodoxy in Late Imperial China (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004). 27. Wang Nan and Chen Yunqian, “Lieshici yu minguo shiqi xinhai geming jiyi,” Nanjing daxue minguo dang’anguan 3 (2011): 72–82. 28. “Nanjing Sun dazongtong Wuchang Li fuzongtong jun jian qian zhun Lujunbu dian zhi congqian ge zhaozhong nai geiwei Dahan zhonglie ci ( Jiangxi lai dian)” [Telegram from Jiangxi with regard to the proposal of the Ministry of the Army to convert Manifest Loyalty Shrines to Great Han Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines as previously approved by President Sun in Nanjing and Vice President Li in Wuchang], Linshi zhengfu gongbao [Provisional Government Gazette], no. 31, 1912, 24. 29. Provisional president’s decree, March 4, 1912, in Zhongguo di’er lishi dang’an guan, ed., Zhonghua minguo shi dang’an ziliao huibian di er kan, Nanjing linshi zhengfu 1912 (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe, 1981), 268. 30. Provisional president’s decree, March 4, 1912, in Zhongguo di’er lishi dang’an guan, Zhonghua minguo shi dang’an ziliao huibian di er kan, 269.

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31. For example, Gengfu [pseud.], “Geming renwu shi: Peng lieshi Jiazhen mou zha Liangbi shimo (fu zhaopian)” [Biography of a revolutionary figure: The complete story of martyr Peng Jiazhen attempting to kill Liangbi (photograph attached)],” Minyi [People Amity], no. 3, 1913, 85–91. 32. Henrietta Harrison, “Martyrs and Militarism in Early Republican China,” Twentieth-Century China 23, no. 2 (1998): 53. 33. “Jingshi jingcha ting zhi yin zhu ju chao song ling Beijing xianlie jinian ci shiwu suo ji faqi ren Guo Baoshu dengchu fen ling qing chi deng gongbao han (fu ling)” [Capital Police Bureau issued an order to Beijing Martyrs’ Shrine Committee Chairman Guo Baoshu (order included)], Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 652, 1914, 17–18. 34. Joseph W. Esherick and C. X. George Wei, China: How the Empire Fell (New York: Routledge, 2014), xxi, 231n60. 35. Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, 227. 36. Harrison, “Martyrs and Militarism,” 59–60. 37. The altar was dedicated to the mythical founder of husbandry, Shen Nong. The emperor, together with high officials, performed the ploughing ceremony at the altar every spring. For more information, see Susan Naquin, Peking: Temples and City Life, 1400–1900 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 324n76; and Anita Chung, Drawing Boundaries: Architectural Images in Qing China (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004), 77–79. 38. The public sacrifice was reported in Zhengfu gongbao, no. 873, 1914, 26; no. 1232, 1915, 37; no. 274, 1916, 35; no. 623, 1917, 17; no. 968, 1918, 11–12; no. 1321, 1919, 18; no. 1666, 1920, 7; no. 2019, 1921, 16; no. 2370, 1922, 16; no. 2719, 1923, 14; no. 3069, 1924, 9; no. 3419, 1925, 13; no. 3768, 1926, 3; and no. 4115, 1927, 17. 39. “Yicheng Civilian School petitioned to use Altar to Agriculture to fundraise and reply from Temple Management Office,” June 1930, Beijing Municipal Archives, Beijing (hereafter, BMA) J057-001-00165; “Petitions from Beiping Temple Management Office about military temporary stationing and deployment and about maintenance of doors and windows at Temple of Heaven and Altar to Agriculture and replies from Ministry of the Interior,” July–September 1930, BMA J057-001-00214. 40. “Beiping Yanji Middle School petitioned to use Altar of Agriculture’s open space as soccer practice field and Temple Management Office replied,” October 1928, BMA J057-001-00042; “Beiping Federation of Trade Unions, Rickshaw Pullers’ Union, and Women’s Civil Correctional Home petitioned to use Altar to Agriculture for recreational fair and Temple Management Office replied,” October 1929, BMA J057-001-00120; “Huang Shunxing and Bai Delin petitioned to lease open spaces at Temple of Heaven and Altar to Agriculture to set up tea stalls and to open soccer fields, and replies from Temple Management Office,” March 1931–January 1932, BMA J057-001-00183; “Sun Yunwu and Zhang Jichen petitioned to continue and renew leases of Altar to Agriculture’s estate to raise rabbits, bees, and chicken (lease renewal forms attached),” February 1931–July 1932, BMA J057-001-00198. 41. “Beijing Special Municipal Office Secretary approved Central Training Institute to borrow Altar to Agriculture’s Great Longevity Hall and notified Beijing Temple Management Office,” April 1939–September 1943, BMA J057-001-00696.

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42. Xu’s memorandum was published in Zhonglie ci jili (Beijing: Zhengshi tang lizhi guan, 1915), 3. I located a copy of this volume in Nanjing Library, Nanjing. 43. Zhonglie ci jili, 3–4. 44. “Chang wu jiangjun du li Jiangxi junwu Li Chun, Jiangxi xun an shi Qi Yang cheng ni jiang yuan jian Zhaozhong ci gai wei Zhonglie ci yi chong si dian er zhao hua yi wen bing piling” [Li Chun, Changwu general supervising Jiangxi military affairs, and Qi Yang, Jiangxi inspection officer, petitioned to convert originally built Manifest Loyalty Shrine into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine for worshipping ceremonies and were approved], Zhengfu gongbao [National Government Gazette], no. 1210, 1915, 17–18. 45. Zhonglie ci jili, 5–6. 46. See Patricia Buckley Ebrey, Women and the Family in Chinese History (New York: Routledge, 2003). 47. Michael Puett, “The Offering of Food and the Creation of Order: The Practice of Sacrifice in Early China,” in Of Tripod and Palate: Food, Politics, and Religion in Traditional China, ed. Roel Sterckx (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 93. 48. Puett, “Offering of Food,” 93. 49. Zhonglie ci jili, 5–6. 50. Chen Jiongming did not support Sun’s Northern Expedition; instead he wanted to develop his own power base in Guangdong. Chen turned against Sun in June 1922, sending Sun fleeing in a warship. Six months later Sun, with the help of the Guangxi and Yunnan armies, removed Chen from power. The Nationalist forces finally defeated Chen’s forces in the summer of 1925. Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, 424. 51. Harrison, Making of the Republican Citizen, 154. 52. Lin Sen, ed., Bixue Huanghua ji (n.p., 1919). 53. For the sake of lucidity, I use “biography” even though the volume contains various literary and historiographical forms and genres. 54. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 10. 55. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 1. From 1911 to 1924, Sun also wrote four other eulogies on the Yellow Flower Hill martyrs. See Virgil Kit-Yiu Ho, “Martyrs or Ghosts? A Short Cultural History of a Tomb in Revolutionary Canton, 1911–1970,” East Asian History 27 (2004): 119–20. 56. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 9. 57. “Diaoji Huanghuagang yi zhong” [Offering sacrifice at the Yellow Flower Hill righteous burial mound], Shenbao [Shanghai News], November 28, 1911. 58. The translation is modified from Edward Slingerland, trans., Confucian Analects: With Selections from Traditional Commentaries (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2003), 177. Slingerland translates ren as Good/Goodness. James Legge’s translation: “The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.” Legge, trans., The Chinese Classics, vol. 1: Confucian Analects, the Great Learning, and the Doctrine of the Mean (London: Trübner, 1861), 161. 59. Hu referred to the following passages: “So, I like life, and I also like righteousness. If I cannot keep the two together, I will let life go and choose righteousness. I like life indeed, there is that which I like more than life, and therefore, I will not seek to possess it by any improper ways. I dislike death indeed, but there is that which

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I dislike more than death, and therefore there are occasions when I will not avoid danger.” James Legge, trans., The Chinese Classics, vol. 2: The Works of Mencius (London: Trübner, 1861), 287. 60. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 3. 61. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 7. 62. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 1. 63. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 24. 64. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 18–22. 65. Pan, “Ganshang de liliang.” 66. Susan Mann, “The Male Bond in Chinese History and Culture,” American Historical Review 105, no. 1 (2000): 1608. 67. Norman A. Kutcher, “The Fifth Relationship: Dangerous Friendships in the Confucian Context,” American Historical Review 105, no. 5 (2000): 1616–19. 68. Robert Ruhlmann, “Traditional Heroes in Chinese Popular Fiction,” in The Confucian Persuasion, ed. Arthur F. Wright (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1960), 175. 69. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 30. 70. From The Analects: “The ardent will advance and lay hold of truth; the cautiously-decided will keep themselves from what is wrong.” Legge, The Chinese Classics, vol. 1, 136. Slingerland translates kuang as “wild”; “In their pursuit of the Way, the wild plunge right in, while the fastidious are always careful not to get their hands dirty.” Slingerland, Confucian Analects, 49. 71. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 31. 72. Harrison, “Martyrs and Militarism,” 45. 73. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 12. 74. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 12. 75. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 6. 76. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 48. 77. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 26. 78. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), biography section, 48. 79. For an account of the waves of violence in a locality, see William T. Rowe, Crimson Rain: Seven Centuries of Violence in a Chinese County (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007). 80. Mark Edward Lewis, Sanctioned Violence in Early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990), 1. 81. Barend ter Haar, “Rethinking ‘Violence’ in Chinese Culture,” in Meaning of Violence: A Cross-Cultural Perspective, ed. Göran Aijmer and Jon Abbink (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 123–40. 82. Mann, “Male Bond.” 83. Wen-hsin Yeh, “Dai Li and the Liu Geqing Affair: Heroism in the Chinese Secret Service during the War of Resistance,” Journal of Asian Studies 48, no. 3 (1989): 558. 84. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 5. 85. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 5–6. 86. Krebs, Shifu, 64. 87. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 6.

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88. Fang Shengtao, his brother, his sister, his wife, and his sister-in-law were all members of the Revolutionary Alliance. Joan Judge, “Between Nei and Wai: Chinese Women Students in Japan in the Early Twentieth Century,” in Gender in Motion: Divisions of Labor and Cultural Change in Late Imperial China, ed. Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2005), 125. 89. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), preface section, 9. 90. Harrison, Making of the Republican Citizen, 153–54. 91. “Lieshi mubian jinzhi congzang” [Burying by the martyrs’ tomb is forbidden], Minguo ribao [Republican Daily], March 12, 1924, 6. 92. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), appendix, 1. 93. Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015), 133–37. 94. Zou, Huanghuagang (1922), appendix, 3–5. 95. For example, “Yueren gongji Huanghuagang ji sheng” [Comprehensive report on Cantonese people organizing public sacrifice at the Yellow Flower Hill], Shenbao [Shanghai News], May 25, 1912; “Yueren zhiji Huanghuagang jishi” [Report on Cantonese people offering sacrifice at the Yellow Flower Hill], Shenbao [Shanghai News], May 4, 1913. 96. Ho, “Martyrs or Ghosts?,” 104. 97. “Revolutionary Commemoration Committee to national government,” November 3, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124840. 98. “Revolutionary Commemoration Committee to national government,” July 25, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124825. 99. “Jiangsu provincial government to national government,” August 8, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124827; “Jiangsu provincial government to national government,” August 20, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124829; “Henan provincial government to national government,” August 20, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124828; “Anhui provincial government to national government,” August 27, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124830; “Anhui provincial government to national government,” October 29, 1928, GMZF AH 001012049-0008, file 50124839; “Hebei provincial government to national government,” September 12, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124834; “Fujian provincial government to national government,” October 1, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124836. 100. “Fujian provincial government to national government,” June 2, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036000-0064, file 50004849; “Fujian provincial government to national government,” August 29, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036000-0064, file 50004851. 101. “National government to Fujian provincial government and Central Executive Committee,” September 1, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036000-0064, file 50004852. 102. “Gongji Huishan zhonglie ci geming zhu xianlie ji” [Record of Huishan’s public sacrifice at Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Wuxi xian zhengfu gongbao [Wuxi County Government Gazette], no. 2, 1929, 3–5. 103. Sun Yat-sen reportedly composed a short note on March 11, 1925, a day before his death. The text was printed on many official documents of the Nationalist government. According to Marie-Claire Bergère, Wang Jingwei was the real author of the note. Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, 405–6.

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104. The use of flowers as a sacrificial item was an innovation. According to a late nineteenth-century account, no flowers were presented to the dead. The offerings were food, wine, paper money, and papier-mâché items. John Henry Gray, China: A History of the Laws, Manners, and Customs of the People, vol. 1 (London: Macmillan, 1878), 320–21. 105. “Gongji Huishan zhonglie ci geming zhu xianlie ji” [Record of Huishan’s public sacrifice at Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Wuxi xian zhengfu gongbao [Wuxi County Government Gazette], no. 2, 1929, 3–5. 106. “Party Memorial Day,” North China Daily News, March 30, 1933, 10. 107. “Death Anniversary of 72 Martyrs,” North China Daily News, March 30, 1937, 11. 108. “Huanghuagang qishier lieshi xunnan ri gao quanguo minzhong” [The Yellow Flower Hill seventy-two martyrs’ death anniversary national public announcement], Gongren zhilu [Workers’ Road], no. 274, 1926, 2. 109. “Huanghuagang qishier lieshi xunnan ri gao quanguo minzhong” [The Yellow Flower Hill seventy-two martyrs’ death anniversary national public announcement], Gongren zhilu [Workers’ Road], no. 274, 1926, 2. 110. “Huanghuagang qishier lieshi xunnan ri gao quanguo minzhong” [The Yellow Flower Hill seventy-two martyrs’ death anniversary national public announcement], Gongren zhilu [Workers’ Road], no. 274, 1926, 2. 111. For example, Zou Lu, Huanghuagang si lieshi zhuan (Shanghai: Minzhi shuju, 1927); Wu Yuan, ed., Huanghuagang zhu lieshi (Nanjing: Zhengzhong shuju, 1936); Zou Lu, Guangzhou xinhai sanyue ershijiu ri geming ji (Changsha, China: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1939); Luo Jialun, ed., Huanghuagang geming lieshi huashi (Taipei: Zhongyang dang shi shiliao bianzuan weiyuanhui, 1952). 112. See Alan Fiske and Tage Shakti Rai, Virtuous Violence: Hurting and Killing to Create, Sustain, End, and Honor Social Relationships (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 2. Defining the Necrocitizenry

1. Wang Shijie earned a bachelor of science degree from the University of London and a doctorate in law from the University of Paris. He then served as a professor of law at Beijing University from 1921 to 1927, and as the chancellor of Wuhan University from 1929 to 1932. Wang also held various high-level posts in the Nationalist government, including minister of education (1933–1936), secretary of the People’s Political Council and minister of information (1938–1943), and minister of foreign affairs (1945–1948). Xiaoqing Diana Lin, Peking University: Chinese Scholarship and Intellectuals, 1898–1937 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005), 164–69; Howard L. Boorman and Richard C. Howard, eds., Biographical Dictionary of Republican China, vol. 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), 395–97. 2. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 3. For example, see Wang Shijie, “The Theory and Practice of Government by Herman Finer,” Guoli Wuhan daxue shehui kexue jikan 3 (1932): 703–6. 4. Lin, Peking University, 164–66.

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5. Emilio Gentile, “Fascism as Political Religion,” Journal of Contemporary History 25 nos. 2/3 (1990): 229. 6. “National government to Bureau of Legal Affairs,” November 1, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102327. 7. “Niu Yongjian to national government,” August 11, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0001, file 50102324. 8. “Baoyang zhidu zhi cun fei” [The preservation or abolition of the commendation system], Minguo ribao [Republican Daily], November 23, 1927, 5. 9. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 10. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 11. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 12. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. Emphasis mine. 13. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 14. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 15. “Wang Shijie’s petition,” November 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102328. 16. Xue served as mayor of Beijing and governor of Gansu under the Beiyang regime. He was a US-educated protégé of the Christian general Feng Yuxiang (1882–1948). He then held various posts in the Nationalist government, such as minister of the interior and minister of health. Xue was interested in preserving elements of the imperial past in the republic, as seen in his advocacy for the use of past rituals and figures in the Republican context. For a discussion on Xue’s political ideology, see Rebecca Nedostup, “Civic Faith and Hybrid Ritual in Nationalist China,” in Converting Cultures: Religion, Ideology, and Transformations of Modernity, ed. Dennis Washburn and A. Kevin Reinhart (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2007), 38–40. 17. “Minister of the Interior to national government,” August 23, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102329. 18. “Minister of the Interior to national government,” August 23, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102329. 19. “Baoyang tiaoli” [Commendation Regulations], Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 662, 1914, 20–22. 20. “Baoyang tiaoli shixing xize” [Commendation Regulation Implementation Rules], Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 767, 1914, 25–26. 21. “Xiuzheng baoyang tiaoli” [Revised Commendation Regulations], November 20, 1917, Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 664, 1917, 8–10; “Baoyang tiaoli shixing xize” [Commendation Regulation Implementation Rules], and “Baoyang tiaoli ji shixing xize jieyao” [Summary of the Commendation Regulations and Implementation Rules], in Zhonghua minguo shi dang’an ziliao huibian di san kan: Beiyang zhengfu, zhengzhi 1, ed. Zhongguo di’er lishi dang’an guan (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe, 1991), 338–43. The latter two regulations were promulgated in 1923.

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22. “Minister of the Interior to national government,” September 5, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102331. 23. “Song Yuanyuan et al. to national government,” October 1, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102333. 24. “Ministry of Military Administration to national government,” January 18, 1930, GMZF AH 001-012049-0001, file 50102335. 25. “Baoyang tiaoli” [Commendation Regulations], Sifa gongbao [Judicial Gazette], no. 132, July 1931. 26. “Executive Yuan to national government,” July 27, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036180-0005, file 500009539. 27. Cai Jintang, “Baoyang ji zhonglie ciji rongdian zhidu de yanjiu,” Neizhengbu weituo yanjiu baogao (2008): 9. 28. Mao Zedong, like many political thinkers before him, viewed “the moral reform of citizens as the province of political leadership.” Susan Shirk, Competitive Comrades: Career Incentives and Student Strategies in China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), 1. 29. Mark Elvin, “Female Virtue and the State in China,” Past & Present 104 (1984): 111. 30. Elvin, “Female Virtue and the State,” 151. 31. Tobie Meyer-Fong, What Remains: Coming to Terms with Civil War in Nineteenth-Century China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013), 137–38. 32. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431; “Dangyuan fuxu tiaoli shixing xize” [Party Member Compensation Regulation Implementation Rules], Zhongyang dangwu yuekan [Central Party Affairs Monthly], no. 15, 1929, 18–24. 33. “Zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui fuxu weiyuanhui zuzhi tiaoli” [Central Executive Committee’s Compensation Committee Organization Regulations], Zhongyang zhoukan [Central Weekly], no. 389, 1936, 343–45. 34. “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” July 1935, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 35. One project of the commission was the 1938 compilation of 101 detailed biographies of notable members of the Revolutionary Alliance and the Nationalist Party. “Commendation and compensation personnel cases,” 1929–1949, GMZF AH 001-036001-0001, files 50009122 to 50009172; “Commendation and compensation personnel cases,” 1929–1940, GMZF AH 001-036001-0002, files 50009173 to 50009246. 36. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431. 37. “He Biao’s petition,” January 30, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0006, file 50011315. For more on the reformers in Hunan, see Stephen R. Platt, Provincial Patriots: The Hunanese and Modern China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007). 38. “National government to Executive Yuan,” May 11, 1929, GMZF AH 001036200-0006, file 50011313; “National government to Executive Yuan,” March 9, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0006, file 50011319. 39. “Fang Dongmei et al. to national government,” July 27, 1928, GMZF AH 001036000-0073, file 50005406; “National government to Anhui provincial government

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and Ministry of the Interior,” July 30, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360000-0073, files 50005408, 50005409; “National government to Central Executive Committee,” October 31, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360000-0073, file 50005417. 40. “Hebei provincial government to national government,” September 21, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360000-0073, file 50005413. 41. “National government to Executive Yuan and Central Executive Committee,” December 11, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0076, file 50005512. 42. Edward S. Krebs, Shifu, Soul of Chinese Anarchism (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 67–68, 222n52, 223n65; Leslie H. Dingyan Chen, Chen Jiongming and the Federalist Movement: Regional Leadership and Nation Building in Early Republican China (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000), 39–40. 43. “Revolutionary Commemoration Committee to national government,” November 21, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036160-0003, file 50009429. The national government approved the petition and ordered the Guangdong provincial government to pay the amount. “National government to Executive Yuan,” November 27, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036160-0003, file 50009430. 44. Geming jinianhui, Honghuagang si lieshi zhuanji (Shanghai: Minzhi shuju, 1927). 45. “Jiang Gaonan’s petition,” October 1, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0074, file 50005439. 46. Joseph W. Esherick, Reform and Revolution in China: The 1911 Revolution in Hunan and Hubei (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976), 152–53, 221–22. 47. “National government to Military Affairs Commission,” October 17, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0074, file 50005442. 48. “National government to Executive Yuan, including petition from Lu Zhiyun et al.,” July 8, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0004, file 50002314. 49. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 16, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0004, file 50002319. 50. According to the Party Member Compensation Regulations, eligible cases included those who expired as the result of (1) “exerting themselves after three years or more of working for the Party,” (2) being “assigned to work and achieving significant results in agricultural or industrial movements, or popular movements,” and (3) “diligently working for the Party, expounding on the Party ideology, making significant achievements.” “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431. 51. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 4, 1929, GMZF AH 001036200-0027, file 50012206. 52. “Central Executive Committee’s Central Standing Committee’s 173th meeting, October 8, 1928,” cited in “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 53. “Central Executive Committee’s Central Standing Committee’s 173th meeting, October 8, 1928,” cited in “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 54. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431. 55. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431.

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56. “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 3, 1929, GMZF AH 001036000-0011, file 50002537. 57. “Central Executive Committee to national government,” April 24, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0011, file 50002540. 58. “Central Special Committee to national government,” October 19, 1927, GMZF AH 001-036000-0120, file 50007426. The Central Special Committee briefly existed from September to December 1927 to unify different factions of the Nationalist Party. 59. “Nationalist Party Shaanxi provincial executive committee chair Gu Zhengding to national government,” October 18, 1945, GMZF AH 001-036000-0120, file 50007437. 60. “Jing Wumu’s Burial Committee to national government,” November 13, 1945, GMZF AH 001-036000-0120, file 50007438. 61. “National government to Ministry of the Interior and Ministry of Finance,” August 13, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0003, file 50002263. For more on Yang Zengxin, see James A. Millward, Eurasian Crossroads: A History of Xinjiang (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 168–88. 62. “Executive Yuan to national government,” March 13, 1929, GMZF AH 001036000-0003, file 50002276. 63. “Wang Jingwei et al. to national government,” August 10, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-00083, file 50005768; “Bai Chongxi to national government,” August 10, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-00083, file 50005767; “Dai Jitao to national government,” November 10, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-00083, file 50005787. 64. Bai Shulan and Zhu Lijun, “1929 nian qianhou wei Peng Jiazhen lieshi xiu mu jian ci shiliao xuan,” Beijing Dang’an Shiliao 3 (2011): 467–73. 65. “Ministry of the Interior to national government, including a petition of Peng Shixun (Peng Jiazhen’s father),” September 5, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-00083, file 50005774; “Peng Jiayuan (Peng Jiazhen’s brother) to national government,” November 1, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-00083, file 50005780. 66. Madeleine Yue Dong, Republican Beijing: The City and Its Histories, 1911–1937 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 88. 67. For Huang Fu’s biography, see “National government’s decree,” December 14, 1936, GMZF AH 001-036000-0090, file 50006043. For more on Huang Fu, see Frederic Wakeman Jr., Policing Shanghai, 1927–1937 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 44–46; Peter Worthing, General He Yingqin: The Rise and Fall of Nationalist China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 150–60, 164–67. 68. “General Huang Fu Dies,” New York Times, December 6, 1936. 69. “National government to Central Political Council,” June 23, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0090, file 50006056. 70. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001036000-0090, file 50006059. 71. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” May 25, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050152. 72. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0020, file 50050154. 73. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0020, file 50050154; “Military Affairs Commission to national government,” June 30, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050164.

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74. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0020, file 50050154. 75. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0020, file 50050154. 76. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050154. 77. “Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” June 30, 1927, GMZF AH 001012049-0020, file 50050154. 78. For more about this conflict, see Donald A. Jordan, China’s Trial by Fire: The Shanghai War of 1932 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2001). 79. Jay Taylor, The Generalissimo: Chiang Kai-shek and the Struggle for Modern China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 98–99. 80. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 81. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 82. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 83. Krebs, Shifu, 64; Howard L. Boorman, “Wang Ching-Wei: China’s Romantic Radical,” Political Science Quarterly 79 (1964): 509–11. 84. For example, Chiang made Huang Shaohong chief of staff for Gen. He Yingqin when fighting broke out in Rehe in 1933. For more on Huang Shaohong, see Worthing, General He Yingqin, 145–47. 85. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 13, 1929, GMZF AH 001-012049-0021, file 50050200; “National government to Executive Yuan,” December 23, 1929, GMZF AH 001-012049-0021, file 50050201. 86. Jeffrey W. Cody, Building in China: Henry K. Murphy’s “Adaptive Architecture,” 1914–1935 (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2001), 191–94. For the construction on Nanjing’s Purple Mountain, see Charles D. Musgrove, China’s Contested Capital: Architecture, Ritual, and Response in Nanjing (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2013), chap. 4. 87. Cai Jintang, “Taiwan de zhonglie ci yu Riben de huguo shenshe jingguo shenshe zhi bijiao yanjiu,” Shida Taiwan shixue bao 3 (2010): 21. 88. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Guomin geming jun zhenwang jiangshi gongmu luocheng dianli jinian kan (Nanjing: Rente chubanju, 1936), 69. Hereafter, Luocheng dianli. 89. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Luocheng dianli, 8–9. 90. “Diwujun dibashiqishi dierwujiulü Shanghai yu Ri zhenwang lieshi zhuanji,” reprinted in Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi ziliao huibian, vol. 12, eds. Li Qiang and Ren Zhen (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan, 2012), 1–96. 91. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui zongbaogao (Nanjing: Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, 1936), preface section, 1. Hereafter, Zongbaogao.

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92. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zongbaogao, preface section, 1. 93. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui. Guomin geming jun zhenwang jiangshi gongmu luocheng dianli jinian kan: timing lu (Nanjing: Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, 1935), inside front cover. 94. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zongbaogao, 3–5 (76–78 counting from the front cover). 95. Zhongguo guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui jianzhu zhenwang jiangshi gongmu choubei weiyuanhui, Zongbaogao, 5–8 (80–83 counting from the front cover). 96. Rebecca Nedostup, “Burying, Repatriating and Leaving the Dead in Wartime and Postwar China and Taiwan, 1937–1955,” Journal of Chinese History 1, no. 1 (2017): 111–39; Christian Henriot, Scythe and the City: A Social History of Death in Shanghai (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2016); J. Brooks Jessup, “The Householder Elite: Buddhist Activism in Shanghai, 1920–1956” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2010); Caroline Reeves, “The Power of Mercy: The Chinese Red Cross Society, 1900–1937” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 1998). 97. “Military Affairs Commission to national government via Executive Yuan,” April 30, 1936, GMZF AH 001-012049-0018, file 50050101. 98. “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 30, 1936, GMZF AH 001012049-0018, file 50050101. The government also approved the Measure to Locally Construct Public Cemeteries for Fallen Officers and Soldiers and the Measure to Organize Public Banquets for the Wounded and the Exceptionally Meritorious in 1936. 99. “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 30, 1936, GMZF AH 001012049-0018, file 50050101. 100. One example is the Daoist Society relentlessly opposing the Chongqing municipal government’s plan to convert the city’s Guan-Yue Temple. Linh D. Vu, “Mobilizing the Dead in Wartime Chongqing,” Journal of Modern Chinese History 11, no. 2 (2017): 264–87. 101. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 102. See Laura Wittman, The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Modern Mourning, and the Reinvention of the Mystical Body (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011). 103. In the twelfth-century CE Jia li (Family rituals) attributed to the Song NeoConfucian Zhu Xi (1130–1200 CE), the souls were asked to dwell in the wooden spirit tablets and conjured up to receive regular sacrifices. Patricia Buckley Ebrey, trans., Chu Hsi’s “Family Rituals”: A Twelfth-Century Chinese Manual for the Performance of Cappings, Weddings, Funerals, and Ancestral Rites (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), xvi, 123. 104. Timothy Brook, “Funerary Ritual and the Building of Lineages in Late Imperial China,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 49, no. 2 (1989): 465. 105. There was little evidence that local authorities followed these measurements.

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106. “Executive Yuan to national government,” August 12, 1933, GMZF AH 001012100-0006, file 50148276. 107. “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 30, 1936, GMZF AH 001012049-0018, file 50050101. 108. “Jiangsu Province Fallen Officer and Soldier Investigation and Preferential Treatment Measures,” 1936, Jiangsu Provincial Archives (hereafter, JPA), Nanjing, 1001-yi-75. 109. “Jinshan County government to Jiangsu provincial government,” July 18, 1936, JPA 1001-yi-75. 110. “District 9 to Jiangsu provincial government,” July 13, 1936, JPA 1001-yi-75. 111. “District 9 to Jiangsu provincial government,” July 13, 1936, JPA 1001-yi-75. 112. Yü Ying-shih, “‘Oh Soul, Coming Back!’: A Study in the Changing Conceptions of the Soul and Afterlife in Pre-Buddhist China,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 47, no. 2 (1987): 363–95; K. E. Brashier, “Han Thanatology and the Division of ‘Souls,’” Early China 21 (1996): 125–58. 113. Maria Rashid, Dying to Serve: Militarism, Affect, and the Politics of Sacrifice in the Pakistan Army (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2020), 216. 3. Consoling the Bereaved

1. Marie-Claire Bergère, Sun Yat-sen, trans. Janet Lloyd (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998), 267–68. 2. Poon Shuk-wah, “Guozang: Minguo chunian de zhengzhi jiaoli yu guojia siwang yishi de jiangou,” Zhongyang yanjiuyuan jinshisuo yanjiu jikan 83 (2014): 47–87. 3. “Zhang Renjie and Shi Taojun to national government,” May 20, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011961. 4. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 5, 1931, GMZF AH 001036200-0021, file 50011962. 5. “National government to Executive Yuan,” July 25, 1931, GMZF AH 001036200-0021, file 50011971. 6. “National government to Censor Yuan and Accounting Office,” May 10, 1935, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011974. 7. “Cai Duan’s petition,” May 27, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011979. 8. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 1, 1937, GMZF AH 001036200-0021, file 50011980. 9. “Mrs. Cai, née Liu’s petition,” April 6, 1940, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011981. 10. “National government to Executive Yuan, Control Yuan, Accounting Office, and Mrs. Cai née Liu Xiazhen,” July 31, 1940, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, files 50011985, 50011986, 50011987. 11. “Central Compensation Committee to national government,” October 20, 1941, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011991. 12. “National government to Hunan provincial government,” March 8, 1947, GMZF AH 001-036200-0021, file 50011994. 13. Kathryn Bernhardt, Women and Property in China, 960–1949 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), 134–37.

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14. Bernhardt, Women and Property in China, 109. 15. Bernhardt, Women and Property in China, 107. 16. These are based on the March 29, 1911, Martyr’s Family Compensation Regulations and the 1928 Jiangsu Province Revolutionary Martyr Provisional Compensation Regulations. “Jiangsu provincial government to national government,” March 3, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0007, file 50124815. 17. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-014000-0016, file 50168431. 18. “Military Affairs Commission to national government,” June 30, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050164. 19. The new regulations were drafted in 1934 and implemented in 1935. “Executive Yuan to national government,” September 26, 1934, GMZF AH 001-012049-0022, file 50050223; “Executive Yuan to national government,” June 21, 1934, GMZF AH 001-012049-0022, file 50050209; “Executive Yuan to national government,” January 17, 1935, GMZF AH 001-012049-0023, file 50050229; “Executive Yuan to national government,” January 31, 1935, GMZF AH 001-012049-0023, files 50050230, 50050231, 50050232. 20. “Military Affairs Commission to national government,” July 22, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012049-0024, file 50050244; “Legislative Yuan, Executive Yuan, and Military Affairs Commission to national government,” July 14, 1942, GMZF AH 001-0120490025, file 50050267; “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 14, 1943, GMZF AH 001-012049-0025, file 50050276. 21. “Executive Yuan to national government,” January 26, 1932, GMZF AH 001012049-0017, file 50050074. 22. See Lisa Tran, Concubines in Court: Marriage and Monogamy in TwentiethCentury China (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015). 23. “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” December 1940, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 24. “Executive Yuan to national government,” September 1, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0018, file 50011850. 25. “Zou Lu to national government, including Mrs. Chen’s and Mrs. Gan’s petitions,” July 24, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0014, file 50002665. 26. “National government to Executive Yuan,” July 31, 1943, GMZF AH 001-036000-0105, file 50006839. 27. “National government’s decree,” September 9, 1927, GMZF AH 001-0120490005, file 50102345. Unlike the Yellow Flower Hill Martyr Compensation Regulations, which explicitly included wives and concubines (qiqie), the 1927 Government Official Stipend Regulations specified that only wives (qi) were eligible. 28. The 1934 Civil Servant Stipend Regulations and the 1937 Police Officer Compensation Regulations similarly stipulated that only disabled husbands be eligible for benefits. 29. Ten households constituted a jia, ten jia constituted a bao, and ten bao constituted a lianbao. 30. For example, see “Mrs. Huang née Li’s petition,” May 10, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0007, file 50011359; and “Wen Yanzhao’s petition,” June 30, 1943, GMZF AH 001-036200-0009, file 50011469.

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31. A partial list can be found in “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” 1935–1948, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 32. “Petition from Li Huanfang et al.,” September 2, 1936, GMZF AH 001036200-0022, file 50012010. 33. “National government to Executive Yuan,” February 11, 1931, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050067. 34. “National government to Executive Yuan,” July 8, 1929, GMZF AH 001036000-0004, file 50002314. 35. “Executive Yuan to national government,” June 14, 1930, GMZF AH 001036000-0004, file 50002324. 36. “Tao Yuan hufa zhu yi sinan lieshi baoyang zhuanji ziliao” [Commendation biographical materials of martyrs of Anti-Yuan, Constitutional Protection, and other campaigns], State History Bureau (hereafter, SHB) SHA 1-34-1561. 37. “Zhang Renjie and Chiang Kai-shek to national government,” April 29, 1926, Guangzhou yu Wuhan guomin zhengfu (hereafter, GZWH) SHA 6-19-341; “National government’s decree,” May 25, 1926, GZWH SHA 6-19-341. The Fan family later received another 5,000 yuan from Nanjing. 38. “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” July 1935–October 1939, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 39. Li Huayin, “Centralized Regionalism: The Rise of Regional Fiscal-Military States in China, 1916–28,” Modern Asian Studies, online Firstview, 2020, 26–35. 40. In the early 1920s, the Nationalist Party reportedly had 30,000 members. Only 6,000 paid dues, and revised registers showed only 3,000. Hans J. van de Ven, War and Nationalism in China, 1925–1945 (New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 81. The Nationalist Party had about 50,000 members in 1923 and roughly 550,000 members (with some 280,000 in the military) in late 1929. John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman, China: A New History, 2nd enlarged ed. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2006), 282, 287. 41. “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” 1935–1948, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 42. “Anhui provincial government to national government via Executive Yuan,” November 27, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0018, file 50002787. 43. “Anhui provincial government to national government via Executive Yuan,” July 12, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0015, file 50011701. 44. “Central Executive Committee to national government,” September 5, 1927, GMZF AH 001-012049-0005, file 50102346. The Nationalist government also issued the Government Official Stipend Regulation Implementation Rules on April 27, 1929 and subsequently revised them on July 8, 1930. “Xiuzheng guanli xujin tiaoli shixing xize” [Revised Government Official Gratuity Regulation Implementation Rules], Fujian sheng zhengfu gongbao [Fujian Provincial Government Gazette], no. 161, 1930, 9–14. In 1934, the government issued the Civil Servant Stipend Regulations and the Civil Servant Stipend Regulation Implementation Rules, which were basically the same as the 1927 and 1929 regulations, except that “government officials” (guanli) became “civil servants” (gongwuyuan).

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45. “National government’s decree,” October 17, 1925, GZWH SHA 6-19-343; “Lieutenant General Liu Yaochen’s memorial service planning office,” October 26, 1925, GZWH SHA 6-19-343. 46. Li Xiaobing, ed., China at War: An Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara, CA: ABCCLIO, 2012), 310. 47. “Office of Legal Affairs to national government,” July 16, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0020, file 50050168. 48. “Jiangxi Fujian Hunan Hubei Counties Self-Defense Anti-Communist Militia Officer and Militiaman Honor Conferral and Bereaved Family Preferential Treatment Measure,” 1935, GMZF AH 001-036100-0003, file 50175510. This measure was first issued in 1932. 49. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 20, 1932, GMZF AH 001036000-0023, file 50002970. 50. “Executive Yuan to national government,” May 11, 1936, GMZF AH 001036000-0024, file 50002997; “National government to Executive Yuan,” May 15, 1936, GMZF AH 001-036000-0024, file 50002998. 51. “National government to Central Compensation Committee,” August 28, 1935, GMZF AH 001-036200-0037, file 50175548. 52. “Guangxi provincial government to national government, including petition from martyr Wei’s family,” December 8, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124852. 53. The exchange rate is in Lu Hanchao, Beyond the Neon Lights: Everyday Shanghai in the Early Twentieth Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), xvii. 54. “National government to Guangxi provincial government,” December 13, 1928, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124854. 55. The conflict between Chiang Kai-shek and Li Zongren happened in early 1929. For more on the alliance between Guangxi leaders and the Nationalist government, see Zhu Pingchao, Wartime Culture in Guilin, 1938–1944: A City at War (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2015), chap. 1; and Diana Lary, Region and Nation: The Kwangsi Clique in Chinese Politics, 1925–1937 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974). 56. “Guangxi provincial government to national government,” January 28, 1929, GMZF AH 001-012049-0008, file 50124855. 57. “Zhao Yuanliang’s petition,” April 3, 1933, GMZF AH 001-036000-0016, file 50002705. 58. “Executive Yuan to national government,” April 19, 1933, GMZF AH 001036000-0016, file 50002708. 59. “Wu Zhenzong’s petition,” January 27, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036000-0073, file 50005426. 60. “Executive Yuan to national government,” January 30, 1930, GMZF AH 001036000-0073, file 50005427. 61. “Wei Zelin’s petition,” April 12, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0065, file 50004892. 62. “National government to Wei Zelin,” April 19, 1937, GMZF AH 001-0360000065, file 50004893. 63. “National government to Executive Yuan,” February 21, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0006, file 50011340.

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64. “Xie Kezhi to national government,” April 12, 1930, GMZF AH 001-0362000006, file 50011345. 65. “Guangdong provincial government to national government via Executive Yuan,” October 31, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0006, file 50011350. 66. “Ministry of Military Administration to national government via Executive Yuan,” December 2, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050096. 67. “Accounting Office to national government,” December 19, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050098. 68. “National government to Executive Yuan and Control Yuan,” December 29, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050100. 69. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, Chongqing Municipal Archives (hereafter, CMA), Chongqing, 53-9-71, 11–15, 134–38, 187–91. For more on He Jian’s background, see Edward A. McCord, Military Force and Elite Power in the Formation of Modern China (New York: Taylor & Francis, 2014), 112–20. 70. Christina Kelley Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution: Radical Women, Communist Politics, and Mass Movements in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 243n31. 71. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 27, 1927, GMZF AH 001-098325-0004, file 50022522. 72. “Huang Zonghan’s petition,” January 4, 1930, GMZF AH 001-098325-0004, file 500225329; “Huang Zonghan’s petition,” January 23, 1930, GMZF AH 001098325-0004, file 50022531. 73. “Southwest Political Committee to national government, including Xu Zonghan’s petition,” March 13, 1934, GMZF AH 001-098325-0005, file 50022568. 74. “Accounting Office to national government,” November 14, 1935, GMZF AH 001-098325-0005, file 50022580. 75. “National government to Executive Yuan,” November 20, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0077, file 50005544. 76. “National government to Executive Yuan,” January 28, 1929, GMZF AH 001036000-0079, file 50005639. 77. “Central Political Council to national government,” May 11, 1934, GMZF AH 001-036000-0028, file 50003130. 78. Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao choubei weiyuanhui choubei baogao (Nanjing: Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao choubei weiyuanhui, 1929), 1–2. 79. They were He Yingqin, Cai Yuanpei (1868–1940), Liu Jiwen (1890–1957), Jiang Hengyuan (1886–1961), Ye Chucang (1887–1946), Fu Huanguang (1892–1972), Soong Ching-ling, Soong Mei-ling, Li Dequan (1896–1972, wife of Feng Yuxiang), He Xiangning (1878–1972, widow of Liao Zhongkai), and Wang Wenxiang (1890–1987, wife of He Yingqin). 80. The Qing government first built the railway in Henan in 1905. The Beiyang government then extended it eastward to Jiangsu. After the Northern Expedition, the Nationalist government took over the railway and extended it westward. PierreÉtienne Will, “Xi’an, 1900–1940: From Isolated Backwater to Resistance Center,” in New Narratives of Urban Space in Republican Chinese Cities: Emerging Social, Legal and Governance Orders, ed. Billy K. L. So and Madeleine Zelin (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2013), 228, 246.

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81. Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao gaikuang (Nanjing: Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao, 1932), 4. 82. Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao gaikuang, 12. 83. Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao gaikuang, 12, 22; For definition of “Four Powers and the People,” see Wm. Theodore de Bary, ed., Sources of East Asian Tradition, vol. 2: The Modern Period (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 683. For more on how the Ministry of Education ordered schools to add the Nationalist Party’s ideologies to their curricula, see Robert Culp, “Rethinking Governmentality: Training, Cultivation, and Cultural Citizenship in Nationalist China,” Journal of Asian Studies 65, no. 3 (2006): 529–54. 84. Guomin geming jun yizu xuexiao gaikuang, 23. 85. Wang Jingwei, the head of the Executive Yuan, recommended and the national government approved the two measures in March 1932. “Executive Yuan to national government,” March 11, 1932, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050081. 86. “Xu Shiying to national government,” May 7, 1932, GMZF AH 001-0120490017, file 50050083. 87. “Xu Shiying to national government,” May 7, 1932, GMZF AH 001-0120490017, file 50050083. 88. “Executive Yuan to national government,” June 2, 1932, GMZF AH 001-012049-0017, file 50050087. 89. “National government to Executive Yuan,” May 12, 1932, GMZF AH 001012049-0017, file 50050084. 90. “Central Executive Committee to national government,” June 9, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036200-0009, file 50011463; “National government to Executive Yuan and Central Executive Committee,” June 13, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036200-0009, file 50011464. 91. “National government to Central Compensation Committee, including Cheng Ronggan’s petition,” May 2, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0009, file 50011452. 92. For more on Peng Shousong, see Ryan Dunch, Fuzhou Protestants and the Making of a Modern China, 1857–1927 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001), 181–82. 93. “National government to Central Compensation Committee, including Cheng Ronggan’s petition,” May 2, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0009, file 50011452. 94. “Peng Jianxun, Peng Weixun, and Peng Fangxun to national government,” February 24, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036320-0007, file 50012891. 95. “National government to Executive Yuan, Control Yuan, Examination Yuan, and Accounting Office,” April 11, 1936, GMZF AH 001-036000-0089, file 50006037. 96. Tai [pseud.], “You guo zisha” [Committing suicide due to one’s concern for the nation], Shenbao [Shanghai News], February 12, 1936. 97. Fang Jiu, “Shisi sui xiao xuesheng you guo zisha” [Fourteen-year-old student committed suicide due to his worry about the nation], Shenbao [Shanghai News], July 20, 1936. 98. Zheng Fan, “Mantan zisha” [On suicide], Shenbao [Shanghai News], September 14, 1936. 99. In her study of the Pakistan army, Maria Rashid notes that affect “concerns the more embodied, unformed, autotelic, abiding, and labile aspect of human feeling.” Rashid, Dying to Serve: Militarism, Affect, and the Politics of Sacrifice in the Pakistan Army (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2020), 11.

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100. Ni Sichong was a leading general of the Anhui Clique and among close allies of Yuan Shikai. He was active in many suppression campaigns against anti-Yuan movements in Anhui. After defeat in the Zhili-Anhui War in 1920, he retired from politics and engaged in banking and mining industries in Tianjin, where he died in 1924. For more on Ni Sichong, see Brett Sheehan, “Urban Identity and Urban Networks in Cosmopolitan Cities: Banks and Bankers in Tianjin, 1900–1937,” in Remaking the Chinese City: Modernity and National Identity, 1900 to 1950, ed. Joseph W. Esherick (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1999), 49–54. 101. “Pan Shaolou’s petition,” October 19, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0008, file 50002426. 102. “Pan Shaolou’s petition,” October 19, 1928, GMZF AH 001-0360000008, file 50002426. 103. “Pan Shaolou’s petition,” October 19, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0008, file 50002426. 104. Bret Hinsch, “Textiles and Female Virtue in Early Imperial Chinese Historical Writing,” Nan Nü 5, no. 2 (2003): 172. 105. Francesca Bray, Technology and Gender: Fabrics of Power in Late Imperial China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 243. 106. “National government to Executive Yuan and Anhui provincial government,” February 8, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0008, file 50002435. 107. “Anhui provincial government to national government,” January 9, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0008, file 50002432. 108. “Central Executive Committee to national government, including Yang Guanwu’s petition,” October 5, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0014, file 50002644. 109. “Central Executive Committee to national government, including Yang Guanwu’s petition,” October 5, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0014, file 50002644. 110. “Fujian provincial government to national government, including Mrs. Guo, née Lin’s petition,” August 29, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036000-0064, file 50004853. 111. “Fujian provincial government to national government, including Mrs. Guo, née Lin’s petition,” August 29, 1931, GMZF AH 001-036000-0064, file 50004853. 112. “Nationalist Party Central Executive Committee’s annual stipend certificates,” 1928–1948, CEC SHA 1-711-280, 1-711-281. 113. Gail Hershatter’s research on rural Shaanxi women reveals that in their memories, various political campaigns were overridden by personal experiences such as childbirth and food scarcity. Hershatter, The Gender of Memory: Rural Women and China’s Collective Past (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), 26–27. 114. Marcel Mauss, The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, trans. W. D. Halls (New York: W. W. Norton, 1990). 115. Rashid, Dying to Serve, 140. 4. Gendering the Republic

1. “Wu Li Yuanwen’s petition,” February 24, 1930, GMZF AH 001-0360000005, file 50002337. 2. Joan Judge, “Talent, Virtue, and the Nation: Chinese Nationalisms and Female Subjectivities in the Early Twentieth Century,” American Historical Review 106, no. 3 (2001): 771.

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3. Judge, “Talent, Virtue, and the Nation,” 765–66. 4. Tani Barlow, “Theorizing Woman: Funü, Guojia, Jiating [Chinese women, Chinese state, Chinese family],” Genders 10 (1991): 132–60. 5. Peter Zarrow, “He Zhen and Anarcho-Feminism in China,” Journal of Asian Studies 47, no. 4 (1988): 796–813. 6. David Strand, An Unfinished Republic: Leading by Word and Deed in Modern China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), chap. 1. 7. Louise P. Edwards, Gender, Politics, and Democracy: Women’s Suffrage in China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2008), 1–2. 8. Margaret Kuo, Intolerable Cruelty: Marriage, Law and Society in Early TwentiethCentury China (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2012). 9. Bettine Birge, Women, Property, and Confucian Reaction in Sung and Yuan China (960–1368) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), chap. 4. 10. Janet M. Theiss, Disgraceful Matters: The Politics of Chastity in EighteenthCentury China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), 27. 11. Susan Mann, Precious Records: Women in China’s Long Eighteenth Century (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1997), 22, 27. 12. The promotion of widow chastity during the Qing dynasty was less an attempt to acquire Confucian legitimacy than an effort to “[affirm] the control of Manchu males over the nuptiality and fertility of Manchu females.” Mark Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity in Qing China,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 41, no. 1 (1999): 71. 13. Elliott, “Manchu Widows and Ethnicity,” 65. 14. Matthew H. Sommer, “The Uses of Chastity: Sex, Law, and the Property of Widows in Qing China,” Late Imperial China 17, no. 2 (1996): 77. 15. Theiss, Disgraceful Matters, 3. 16. Mann, Precious Records, 22. 17. “Baoyang tiaoli” [Commendation Regulation], Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 290, March 1914, 20–22. 18. “Baoyang tiaoli” [Commendation Regulations], Sifa gongbao [Judicial Gazette], no. 132, July 1931. 19. Ni Baokun, ed., Zhonghua minguo baoyang lingji chubian: fu youguan shiliao (Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1985). 20. Susan L. Glosser, Chinese Visions of Family and State, 1915–1953 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 4–6. 21. Edward Friedman, Paul G. Pickowicz, and Mark Selden, Chinese Village, Socialist State (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1991). 22. Neil J. Diamant, Embattled Glory: Veterans, Military Families, and the Politics of Patriotism in China, 1949–2007 (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2009), chap. 7. 23. Kay Ann Johnson, Women, the Family and Peasant Revolution in China (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983). 24. Gail Hershatter, The Gender of Memory: Rural Women and China’s Collective Past (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011). 25. Saba Mahmood, Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004), 32. 26. Stephanie McCurry, Confederate Reckoning: Power and Politics in the Civil War South (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 145.

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27. Jisoo M. Kim, The Emotions of Justice: Gender, Status, and Legal Performance in Choson Korea (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2016), 101. 28. Philip C. C. Huang, “Morality and Law in China, Past and Present,” Modern China 41, no. 1 (2015): 21. 29. Deniz Kandiyoti, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” Gender & Society 2, no. 3 (1988): 274. 30. Lila Abu-Lughod, “The Romance of Resistance: Tracing Transformations of Power through Bedouin Women,” American Ethnologist 17, no. 1 (1990): 42. 31. James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008) 29–30, 32–33. 32. Michael Szonyi, The Art of Being Governed: Everyday Politics in Late Imperial China (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2017), 222. 33. Szonyi, Art of Being Governed, 8. 34. Kevin O’Brien and Lianjiang Li, Rightful Resistance in Rural China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 2–3. 35. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Jiangsu provincial government,” December 11, 1929, JPA 1001-yi-76. 36. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Premier Tan Yankai,” December 1929, JPA 1001yi-76. 37. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Executive Yuan via Jiangsu provincial government,” January 1930, JPA 1001-yi-76. 38. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Jiangsu provincial government,” December 18, 1929, JPA 1001-yi-76. 39. “Mrs. Zhao Xia to Executive Yuan via Jiangsu provincial government,” January 1930, JPA 1001-yi-76. 40. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Jiangsu provincial government,” April 1930, JPA 1001-yi-76. 41. “Zhao Xia Guangguo to Premier Tan Yankai,” December 1929, JPA 1001-yi-76. 42. “Executive Yuan to Jiangsu provincial government,” January 1930, JPA 1001-yi-76. 43. “Mrs. Zang, née Chen to national government,” November 29, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0007, file 50002412. 44. Chen Huiqin, with Chen Shehong, Daughter of Good Fortune: A TwentiethCentury Chinese Peasant Memoir (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2015), 53–55. 45. “Jiangsu provincial government to national government,” January 26, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0007, file 50002418. 46. Mrs. Zang’s case fits many patterns of imperial-era widows. Many widows used the services of litigators in local courts to challenge the established power of male relatives. Melissa Macauley, Social Power and Legal Culture: Litigation Masters in Late Imperial China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998). The widow’s marginality within the family became her motivation to ally with the state. Chinese women had power to undermine familial stability as liminal and marginal members. Susan Mann, “Widows in the Kinship, Class, and Community Structures of Qing Dynasty China,” Journal of Asian Studies 46, no. 1 (1987): 44. 47. Kathryn Bernhardt, Women and Property in China, 960–1949 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), 5.

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48. Bernhardt, Women and Property, 6. 49. In Ming-Qing law, choosing an heir was an obligation of widows and had to be done in consultation with the lineage heads. However, the late Qing Republicanera Supreme Court (Dali yuan) (1906–1928) reinterpreted a widow’s obligation to select an heir as her “exclusive right” with which no one could interfere. Bernhardt, Women and Property, 78. 50. “Zang Xiajin’s petition to national government,” April 9, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0007, file 50002420. 51. “Zang Xiajin’s petition to national government,” October 22, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036000-0007, file 50002423. 52. Mark Elvin, “Female Virtue and the State in China,” Past & Present 104 (1984): 151. 53. “Li Guoshu’s petition,” May 5, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0014, file 50002663. 54. “Gao Jie’s petition,” July 14, 1932, GMZF AH 001-036200-0010, file 50011494. 55. “Executive Yuan to Jiangsu provincial government,” January 1930, JPA 1001-yi-76. 56. Susan Mann, “The Male Bond in Chinese History and Culture,” American Historical Review 105, no. 1 (2000): 1603. 57. Glosser makes a similar point about the Nationalist government’s vision of ideal motherhood. Glosser, Chinese Visions of Family and State, chap. 2. 58. “Zou Lu to national government, including original petitions by Mrs. Chen and Mrs. Jin,” July 24, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0014, file 50002665. 59. “Zhongyang fuxu weiyuanhui canjia kangzhan wei guo gongzuo dangyuan fuxu fenlei tongji biao” [Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts], December 1940, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 60. “Mrs. Tie, née Wang’s petition,” April 30, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0002, file 50002242. 61. “Mrs. Zhu, née Wang et al. to national government,” June 25, 1934, GMZF AH 001-036000-0026, file 50003069. 62. Adopted heirs usually came from the same patriarchal lineage. Mrs. Xu, however, adopted a grandson with a different last name. 63. “Mrs. Xu, née Yang’s petition,” July 2, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0010, file 50002524; “National government to Mrs. Xu, née Yang,” October 23, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0010, file 50002527. 64. For a discussion on adoption practices, see Arthur P. Wolf and Chieh-shan Huang, Marriage and Adoption in China, 1845–1945 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1980). For multiple examples of adoption among close relatives and between families without blood relations, see Chen, with Chen, Daughter of Good Fortune, chap. 1. 65. With the 1930 civil code, only the heir established by both husband and wife had the right to the family’s property. Any child adopted by a widow after her husband’s death would be her child and heir only. Bernhardt, Women and Property, 106. 66. Wu Yue’s heir was born four years after his death. Wu Yue’s younger brother designated one of his sons to be the martyr’s heir. The heir was nineteen years old

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in 1928. “National government to Central Executive Committee,” June 30, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0073, file 50005401; “Fang Dongmei et al. to national government,” July 7, 1928, GMZF AH 001-036000-0073, file 50005406. 67. “Mrs. Xu, née Yang’s petition,” July 2, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0010, file 50002524. 68. Ceshi, which means “side room,” was used to denote a relatively highstatus concubine, “stressing her role as a companion and sexual partner.” Patricia Buckley Ebrey, Women and the Family in Chinese History (New York: Routledge, 2003), 45–46. 69. “Mrs. Lin, née You’s petition to national government,” May 25, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0065, file 50004897. 70. “Mrs. Lin, née You’s petition to national government,” May 25, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0065, file 50004897. 71. “Mrs. Lin, née You’s petition to national government,” May 25, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0065, file 50004897. 72. Eugenia Lean, Public Passions: The Trial of Shi Jianqiao and the Rise of Popular Sympathy in Republican China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007). 73. Bryna Goodman, “‘Law is One Thing, and Virtue is Another’: Vernacular Readings of Law and Legal Process in 1920s Shanghai,” in Chinese Law: Knowledge, Practice, and Transformation, 1530s to 1950s, ed. Li Chen and Madeleine Zelin (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2015), 148–75. 74. Elizabeth Katz, “Judicial Patriarchy and Domestic Violence: A Challenge to the Conventional Family Privacy Narrative,” William & Mary Journal of Women and the Law 21, no. 2 (2015): 379–471. 75. Wolfgang Schivelbusch, The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning, and Recovery, trans. Jefferson Chase (New York: Picador, 2004), 110. 76. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 39–41. 77. “National government to Executive Yuan, including Mrs. Xia’s petition,” May 1, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0024, file 50012061. 78. “Executive Yuan to national government,” June 6, 1929, GMZF AH 001036200-0024, file 50012067. 79. “Revolutionary Commemoration Committee to national government, including Xia Bingnan’s petition,” August 25, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0024, file 50012068. 80. “National government to Revolutionary Commemoration Committee,” August 27, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0024, file 50012069. 81. “Deng Huifang to national government,” July 12, 1932, GMZF AH 001036200-0024, file 50012070. 82. “Deng Huifang to national government,” February 1, 1939, GMZF AH 001-036200-0024, file 50012083. 83. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 39–41. 84. Kuo, Intolerable Cruelty, 11. 85. “Executive Yuan to national government, including Ms. Tan’s petition,” July 26, 1929, GMZF AH 001-036200-0019, file 50011874.

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86. “Mrs. Peng, née Sun’s (Ms. Sun’s) petition,” January 21, 1930, GMZF AH 001-036200-0019, file 50011877. 87. “Executive Yuan to national government,” January 30, 1930, GMZF AH 001036200-0019, file 50011879. 88. “National government to Executive Yuan,” March 22, 1930, GMZF AH 001036200-0019, file 50011881. 89. “Mrs. Peng, née Sun’s (Ms. Sun’s) petition,” June 1, 1935, GMZF AH 001-036200-0019, file 50011882. 90. “Peng Ling’s (Peng Gonghe’s) petition,” September 15, 1936, GMZF AH 001-036200-0019, file 50011884. 91. “Central Executive Committee to national government,” October 26, 1936, GMZF AH 001-036200-0019, file 50011887. 92. Matthew Sommer documents Qing women who took men other than their husbands into their households as a survival strategy. Sommer, Polyandry and WifeSelling in Qing Dynasty China: Survival Strategies and Judicial Interventions (Oakland: University of California Press, 2015). 93. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 40. 94. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 39–40. 95. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 41. 96. “Executive Yuan to national government, including Wanzai County’s petition submitted via Ministry of Interior,” July 27, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036180-0005, file 500009539. 97. “National government’s draft decree,” September 17, 1937, GMZF AH 001036180-0005, file 500009542. 98. “Executive Yuan to national government, including petition from Pingjiang County,” July 17, 1940, GMZF AH 001-036180-0005, file 50009543. 99. “Executive Yuan to national government, including petition from Pingjiang County,” July 17, 1940, GMZF AH 001-036180-0005, file 50009543. 100. “National government’s draft decree,” July 24, 1940, GMZF AH 001-0361800005, file 50009544. 101. “Central Executive Committee to national government, including Wang Yixiang’s petition,” December 9, 1942, GMZF AH 001-036000-0135, file 50008116. 102. Tales of mothers urging their sons to prioritize political loyalty over filial piety during the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE) can be found in Miranda Brown, The Politics of Mourning in Early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2007), chap. 3. 103. Louise P. Edwards, Women Warriors and Wartime Spies of China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 19. 104. “Central Executive Committee to national government, including petition from Ping-Sui Railroad Special Party Branch,” April 2, 1946, GMZF AH 001-0360000070, file 50005204. 105. “Executive Yuan to national government,” October 8, 1946, GMZF AH 001036180-0006, file 50009592.

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106. “National government to Executive Yuan,” October 22, 1946, GMZF AH 001-036180-0006, file 50009593. 107. For more on Mao-era “women holding up half the sky,” see Goçalo Santos and Stevan Harrell, introduction to Transforming Patriarchy: Chinese Families in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Goçalo Santos and Stevan Harrell (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2017), 15–17. 5. Democratizing National Martyrdom

1. “Hong Kejun’s petition,” February 6, 1939, GMZF AH 001-036000-0129, file 50007832. 2. “Hong Kejun’s petition,” February 6, 1939, GMZF AH 001-036000-0129, file 50007832. 3. “National government to Executive Yuan,” January 14, 1939, GMZF AH 001-036000-0129, file 50007831. 4. Timothy Brook, Collaboration: Japanese Agents and Local Elites in Wartime China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 6. 5. Mark Elvin, “Female Virtue and the State in China,” Past & Present 104 (1984): 114; Matthew H. Sommer, Sex, Law and Society in Late Imperial China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000), 14. 6. See Peter C. Perdue, China Marches West: The Qing Conquest of Central Eurasia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005). 7. Joanna Waley-Cohen, Culture of War in China: Empire and the Military under the Qing Dynasty (London: I. B. Tauris, 2006), xii. 8. Philip Kuhn, Rebellion and Its Enemies in Late Imperial China: Militarization and Social Structure, 1796–1864 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1970). 9. Edward McCord, “Militia and Local Militarization in Late Qing and Early Republican China: The Case of Hunan,” Modern China 14, no. 2 (1988): 177–78. 10. Nicolas Schillinger, The Body and Military Masculinity in Late Qing and Early Republican China: The Art of Governing Soldiers (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2016). 11. Edward A. McCord, The Power of the Gun: The Emergence of Modern Chinese Warlordism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993). 12. Louise P. Edwards, Women Warriors and Wartime Spies of China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 9. 13. Antonia Finnane, Changing Clothes in China: Fashion, History, Nation (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), chap. 4. 14. Edwards, Women Warriors, 39. 15. Micah S. Muscolino, The Ecology of War in China: Henan Province, the Yellow River, and Beyond, 1938–1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 23–24. 16. Cynthia Enloe’s definition of militarization is cited in Michael Szonyi, Cold War Island: Quemoy on the Front Line (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 1–3. 17. Andrew Barros and Martin Thomas, introduction to The Civilianization of War: The Changing Civil-Military Divide, 1914–2014, ed. Andrew Barros and Martin Thomas (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 3.

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18. Tobie Meyer-Fong, What Remains: Coming to Terms with Civil War in NineteenthCentury China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013), 142. 19. James C. Scott, Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999), 2. 20. Fan collaborated with the Communists in Shandong to fight the Japanese. Sherman Xiaogang Lai, A Springboard to Victory: Shandong Province and Chinese Communist Military and Financial Strength, 1937–1945 (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2011), 33–36. 21. “Military Affairs Commission to national government,” December 15, 1938, GMZF AH 001-036000-0129, file 50007852. 22. “National government to Executive Yuan,” March 21, 1939, GMZF AH 001036000-0129, file 50007857. 23. “Examination Yuan to national government,” March 8, 1939, GMZF AH 001036000-0129, file 50007855. 24. “Executive Yuan to national government,” October 8, 1937, GMZF AH 001-012049-0003, file 50102339. 25. “Executive Yuan to national government,” October 8, 1937, GMZF AH 001012049-0003, file 50102339. 26. “Executive Yuan to national government,” October 8, 1937, GMZF AH 001012049-0003, file 50102339. 27. “Xunling wu sheng junzheng ge jiguan ling fa jiao fei qunei wenwu guanzuo shibing jiaogei chengjiang tiaoli yiti zunzhao” [Decree to five provincial military administration offices to issue Bandit-Infested Area Anti-Bandit Civilian and Military Official and Servicemember Reward and Punishment Regulations], Junzheng xunkan [Military-Political Review], no. 2, 1933, 135–36. 28. “Gongwuyuan tezhong fuxu tiaoli” [Civil Servant Preferential Compensation Regulations], Guomin zhengfu gongbao [National Government Gazette], no. 37, 1940, 4–11. 29. Odoric Y. K. Wou, “The District Magistrate Profession in the Early Republican Period: Occupational Recruitment, Training and Mobility,” Modern Asian Studies 8, no. 2 (1974): 227–30; John Fitzgerald, “From County Magistrate to County Head: The Role and Selection of Senior County Officials in Guangdong Province in the Transition from Empire to Republic,” Twentieth-Century China 38, no. 3 (2013): 262–63, 267–68. 30. “Cheng guomin zhengfu jin ni ju youxu jiao fei xun cheng xianzhang banfa chengqing jianhe ling zun” [Petition to draft a measure to compensate martyred county heads], Junshi xunkan [Military Affairs Journal], nos. 37/38, 1934, 49–50. 31. “Executive Yuan to national government, including Shaanxi provincial government’s petition,” June 15, 1937, GMZF AH 001-036000-0025, file 50003017. 32. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 29, 1937, GMZF AH 001036000-0025, file 50003018. 33. “Xian shi guomin bingtuan zuzhi zhanxing tiaoli” [County and Municipal Citizen Militia Corps Organizing Provisional Regulations], Junshi zazhi [Military Affairs Magazine], no. 122, 1940, 112–13. 34. “Citizen Militia Soldier Compensation Differential Measure,” 1940, Executive Yuan AH 014000002929A.

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35. “Examination Yuan to national government,” January 6, 1943, GMZF AH 001-012049-0015, file 50124931. 36. “Examination Yuan to national government,” November 28, 1939, GMZF AH 001-012049-0015, file 50124928. 37. “National government to Executive Yuan,” April 21, 1938, GMZF AH 001036000-0025, file 50003020. 38. “Zhanshi junshi zhenggu minfu shangwang fuxu ji maizang fei zhanxing banfa” [Provisional Wartime Wounded and Fallen Militarily Recruited Worker Compensation and Burial Measure], Sichuan sheng zhengfu gongbao [Sichuan Provincial Government Gazette], no. 85, 1940, 32–33. In 1946, the Fujian provincial government proposed to award families of workers who died from overexertion while on official duty 20,000 yuan, plus another 10,000 yuan for burial. “Zhanshi junshi zhenggu minfu shangwang fuxu ji maizang fei zhanxing banfa di sansi liangtiao xiuzheng tiaowen” [Revised articles 3 and 4 of the Wartime Wounded and Fallen Militarily Recruited Worker Compensation and Burial Provisional Measure], Fujian sheng zhengfu gongbao [Fujian Provincial Government Gazette], no. 1785, 1946, 13242–43. 39. “Zhanshi guyuan gongyi geixu banfa” [Wartime Public Service Hired Worker Compensation Regulations], Xichang xianzheng banyuekan [Xichang County Government Bimonthly], nos. 3–4, 1943, 6–7. 40. The Ministry of Social Affairs was created in 1939 to take charge of war relief and welfare. Gu Zhenggang (1902–1993) served as the first minister. 41. “National government to Executive Yuan and Control Yuan,” December 17, 1943, GMZF AH 001-036200-0041, file 50012449. 42. “National Defense Supreme Council to national government,” March 22, 1938, GMZF AH 001-012047-0021, file 50102242. 43. “National government to all subordinate offices,” March 25, 1938, GMZF AH 001-012047-0021, file 50102243. 44. “Legislative Yuan to national government,” May 11, 1938, GMZF AH 001012047-0021, file 50102245; “Legislative Yuan to national government,” November 1, 1938, GMZF AH 001-012047-0021, file 50102247. The revised version of 1945 removed the clause about tuition waivers. “Legislative Yuan to national government,” March 22, 1945, GMZF AH 001-012047-0021, file 50102260. 45. “Executive Yuan to national government,” October 14, 1938, GMZF AH 001012049-0028, file 50124939. 46. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 9, 1938, GMZF AH 001-012049-0013, file 50124926. 47. “National government to Executive Yuan,” June 16, 1939, GMZF AH 001036000-0129, file 50007847. 48. Jeremy E. Taylor, “From Traitor to Martyr: Drawing Lessons from the Death and Burial of Wang Jingwei, 1944,” Journal of Chinese History 3, no. 1 (2019): 141–42. 49. “Compensation for fallen staff of Southern Guangzhou Appeasement Director’s Office of Wang ( Jingwei)’s government,” 1942–1944, Wang Jingwei’s Reorganized National Government SHA 6-2002-1454. 50. “Executive Yuan’s decree,” June 6, 1940, and “Ministry of the Interior’s decree,” June 27, 1940, cited in “Chongqing municipal government to Social Affairs Bureau [Shehui ju],” July 29, 1940, CMA 60-1-190, 1.

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51. Linh D. Vu, “Mobilizing the Dead in Wartime Chongqing,” Journal of Modern Chinese History 11, no. 2 (2017): 264–87. 52. “Chongqing Air Raid Shelter Management Office to Chongqing municipal government,” April 12, 1945, CMA 53-20-409, 278–84. 53. “Nanyue zhonglie ci” [Nanyue Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Zhongguo kangzhan huashi [Chinese War of Resistance Pictorial History], May 1947, 354; Feng Yuhui, “Nanyue zhonglie ci,” Kangri zhangzhen yanjiu 2 (1995): 229–30. 54. “Hunan provincial government to national government,” October 9, 1946, GMZF AH 001-036000-0022, file 085003394. 55. “Executive Yuan to national government,” September 9, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148280. 56. The guidelines listed five categories of circumstances of death that qualified people as military martyrs: 1) charging forward in battle; 2) killing enemies; 3) exerting themselves in an extraordinarily brave manner; 4) refusing to surrender; and 5) resisting the enemy in a remarkable manner. Civilians could become martyrs if they died while 1) obtaining crucial intelligence from the enemy; 2) organizing civilian support groups for the military or to carry out military orders; 3) uncovering enemies or Chinese collaborators; 4) damaging the enemy’s transportation and communication lines; 5) destroying a military warehouse; 6) uncovering spy organizations of enemies or collaborators; 7) refusing to surrender when captured; 8) rescuing officials or civilians who were resisting the enemy; 9) organizing civilians to wholeheartedly carry out the Republic’s conventions; and 10) resisting the enemy in other loyal and brave ways. “Executive Yuan to national government,” September 9, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148280. 57. Chang Shih-ying, “Guomin zhengfu dui kangzhan zhonglie shiji de diaocha yu jinian,” Guoshiguan guankan 26 (2010): 1–46. 58. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province], 1942, Ministry of the Interior (hereafter, MOI) AH 026000013773A. 59. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, MOI AH 026000013773A. 60. Vu, “Mobilizing the Dead.” 61. “National government to all subordinate offices,” September 20, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148281. 62. “Dian neizhengbu deng qing weihu Jiangxi Hukou Xiangjun zhonglie ci chanquan” [Telegram from the Provincial Assembly to the Ministry of the Interior: Petitioning to protect the property of Jiangxi Hukou’s Xiang Army Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Hunan sheng canyihui huikan [Hunan Provincial Parliamental Journal], no. 6, 1947, 8. 63. “Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine reports from counties in Henan and Sichuan,” 1939–1942, MOI AH 026000013553A. 64. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 22, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148284. 65. “Zhonglie ci ru ci an wei dianli” [Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine enshrinement and tablet placement ceremony], Zhejiang sheng zhengfu gongbao [Zhejiang Provincial Government Gazette], no. 3305, 1941, 17. 66. “Zhonglie ci gongji” [Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine public sacrifice], Zhejiang sheng zhengfu gongbao [Zhejiang Provincial Government Gazette], no. 3305, 1941, 18.

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67. “National government to all subordinate offices,” September 20, 1940, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148281. 68. “Executive Yuan to Chongqing municipal government,” September 20, 1947, CMA 53-20-410, 62–66. 69. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, MOI AH 026000013773A. 70. In 1805, there were 42 county Manifest Loyalty Shrines in Sichuan, 14 in Hubei, 13 in Guizhou, and 9 in Shaanxi. James Bonk, “Chinese Military Men and Cultural Practice in the Early Nineteenth Century Qing Empire (1800–1840)” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2014), 61. In comparison, the Nationalist Ministry of the Interior reported 624 Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in seventeen provinces in 1942. 71. Zhu Jiguang, “1939–1942 nian Jiangsu difang zhonglie ci de choujian,” Jiangsu difang zhi 6 (2007): 53–55. 72. “Baoshan County government to Jiangsu provincial government,” May 29, 1946, JPA 1002-yi-2937. 73. “Accounting office to Jiangsu provincial government,” August 6, 1946, JPA 1002-yi-2937. 74. Cao Nanping, “Poli yu Qingmo Minchu de richang shenghuo,” Zhongyang yanjiuyuan jinshisuo jikan 76 (2012): 81–134. 75. “Executive Yuan to national government,” December 23, 1933, GMZF AH 001-012100-0006, file 50148278. 76. “Jiangyin County government to Jiangsu provincial government,” September 4, 1946, JPA 1002-yi-2937. 77. “Jiading to Jiangsu provincial government,” 1947, JPA 1002-yi-2939. 78. “Jiangpu County government to Jiangsu provincial government,” 1948, JPA 1002-yi-2938. 79. “Meeting minutes of Shanghai Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine’s Construction Committee,” June 24, 1947, Shanghai Municipal Archives (hereafter, SMA), Shanghai, Q201-2-406-20. 80. “Shanghai Public Works Bureau to accounting office,” September 25, 1947, SMA Q215-1-3729. 81. “Zhanlipin chenlie guan kaimu” [Opening of the Trophy Exhibition Hall], Zhihui [Knowledge], no. 3, 1946, 1. 82. “Minutes of the Twelfth Standing Committee meeting of Guangdong Province Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Planning Committee,” November 29, 1946, Guangdong Provincial Archives (hereafter, GPA), Guangzhou, 6-2-2069, 54–58; “Minutes of the Fifteenth Standing Committee meeting of Guangdong Province Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Planning Committee,” January 13, 1947, GPA 6-2-2069, 87–88. 83. “Guangdong gejie wei baozhang kang-Ri zhenwang jiangshi gongji, yu Guanyin Shanlu jian Guangdong sheng zhonglie ci, wu yue wu ri juxing dianji dianli huichang sheying” [Guangdong people honor efforts of War of Resistance fallen officers and soldiers, Guangdong Province Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine built at the foot of Guanyin Mountain, groundbreaking ceremony held on May 5, photographed], Zhong-Mei Zhoubao [Chinese-American Weekly], no. 239, 1947, 1. 84. Cai Jintang, “Taiwan de zhonglie ci yu Riben de huguo shenshe jingguo shenshe zhi bijiao yanjiu,” Shida Taiwan shixue bao 3 (2010): 3–22.

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85. “Xinzhu xian zhonglie ci juxing dianli liuying” [Videotape of the ceremony at Xinzhu County’s Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], 1946, accessed May 15, 2017, http:// catalog.digitalarchives.tw/item/00/31/98/80.html. 86. Fu Zuoyi was an officer under Yan Xishan and joined the Northern Expedition after Yan pledged allegiance to Chiang Kai-shek. Fu then fought the Manchukuo and Japanese troops in Rehe, Chahar, and Suiyuan Provinces throughout the War of Resistance. Fu surrendered to the Communist forces and later held offices in the People’s Republic of China. Li Xiaobing, ed., China at War: An Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2012), 128–29. 87. Zhangyuan, known as Kalgan from the Yuan dynasty to the Qing dynasty, is now Zhangjiakou in Hebei Province. 88. Li Yaosheng, “Zhangyuan zhonglie ci luocheng dianli” [Completion ceremony for the Patriots’ Temple at Chang-hua], Huanqiu [The Universe], no. 25, 1947. A bilingual newspaper published from 1945 to 1949 out of Shanghai, Huanqiu contained news and photographs of the War of Resistance, emphasizing the connection between China and the world. 89. “Qingdao shenshe gaijian zhonglie ci” [Qingdao Shintoˉ shrine converted into Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Shenbao [Shanghai News], June 28, 1947. 90. “Zhang zhuren zhi zhong fan Lan: Zhang zhuren zai Lanzhou gongji zhonglie ci” [Chairman Zhang Zhizhong returned to Lanzhou: Chairman Zhang at the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine’s public sacrifice in Lanzhou], Tianshan huabao [Tianshan Pictorial], no. 6, 1948, 27. For more on the Tianshan huabao, see Justin Jacobs, “How Chinese Turkestan Became Chinese: Visualizing Zhang Zhizhong’s Tianshan Pictorial and Xinjiang Youth Song and Dance Troupe,” Journal of Asian Studies 67, no. 2 (2008): 545–91. 91. Vu, “Mobilizing the Dead.” 92. Norman A. Kutcher, Eunuch and Emperor in the Great Age of Qing Rule (Oakland: University of California Press, 2018), 18. 93. “Report on Loyal Spirit Tower,” 1937, BMA J017-001-03270. 94. “Beiping municipal government to Police Bureau,” February 1, 1946, BMA J017-001-03115. 95. “Kangzhan zhu xianlie ruci zhonglieci dadian” [Enshrinement ceremony for War of Resistance martyrs at Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine], Lianhe huabao [United Pictorial], nos. 171–172, 1946, 16; “Education Bureau to Beiping municipal government,” September 30, 1947, BMA J004-004-00226; “Beiping municipal government to Police Bureau,” October 11, 1948, BMA J181-016-00412. 96. “Accounting office and Police Bureau to Beiping municipal government,” March 27, 1948, BMA J001-005-01562. 97. “Beiping municipal government’s draft order to Police Bureau and Financial Administration Office,” April 5, 1948, BMA J001-005-01562. 98. “Accounting office and Police Bureau to Beiping municipal government,” May 17, 1948, BMA J001-005-01562. 99. “Beiping municipal government’s comment on Accounting office’s report,” May 22, 1948, BMA J001-005-01562. 100. “Civil Administration Bureau to Beiping municipal government,” September 1947, BMA J004-003-00660.

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101. “Civil Affairs Bureau to Beiping municipal government,” August 30, 1947, BMA J004-003-00660. 102. “Beiping municipal government to Education Bureau,” February 16, 1948, BMA J004-003-00660. 103. “Central Compensation Committee War of Resistance participation and national protection party member compensation categorization and summary charts,” December 1940, CEC SHA 1-711-208. 104. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, MOI AH 026000013773A. 105. “Survey form of the current state of Mianchi County’s Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine,” July 25, 1939, MOI AH 026000013552A. 106. “Survey form of the current state of Mianchi County’s Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine,” July 25, 1939, MOI AH 026000013552A. 107. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, MOI AH 026000013773A. 108. “Summary of survey reports of Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines in each province,” 1942, MOI AH 026000013773A. 109. “Third-year report of the Nationalist government’s Military Affairs Commission’s Compensation Committee,” 1941, CMA 53-9-71, 6–11. 110. “Measure to Collect War of Resistance Servicemembers’ Loyal and Sacrificing Records,” October 1946, CMA 60-140-93, 13. The Ministry of Defense also issued two other measures: Measure to Collect War of Resistance Historical Materials (Kangzhan shiliao zhengji banfa) and Measure to Collect Historical Materials for Rewarding and Encouraging Purposes (Zhengji shiliao jiangli banfa). Gansu sheng zhengfu gongbao [Gansu Provincial Government Gazette], no. 681, 1947, 11–12. 111. Li Qiang and Ren Zhen, preface to Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi ziliao huibian (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan, 2012), 1:3. 112. “Chongqing municipal government to Ministry of Finance,” September 28, 1946, CMA 57-7-164, 45. 113. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 13:11–290. 114. Prince De was a Mongolian prince and leader of an independent movement in Inner Mongolia. During World War II, he served as the chairman of the Mongol Military Government and the Mengjiang state, both of which were under the control of the Japanese Army. For more on Prince De, see Lu Minghui, “The Inner Mongolian ‘United Autonomous Government,’” in China at War: Regions of China, 1937–1945, ed. Stephen R. MacKinnon, Diana Lary, and Ezra F. Vogel (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007), 148–71. 115. Hans J. van de Ven, War and Nationalism in China, 1925–1945 (New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 193–96. 116. The List of Names did not mention the fact that Liu Ruming delayed engagement to preserve his own troops, leaving Tang troops to be massacred by the stronger and mechanized Japanese divisions. Chang-tai Hung, War and Popular Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 168–69. 117. “Chinese General Consulate in Rangoon to China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” June 9, 1947, Ministry of Foreign Affairs AH 020-011103-0010. 118. Linh D. Vu, “Bones of Contention: China’s World War II Military Graves in India, Burma, and Papua New Guinea,” Journal of Chinese Military History 8, no. 1 (May 2019): 52–99.

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119. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, vols. 1–10. Li and Ren note that this number did not include the two hundred thousand record cards (kapian) of fallen soldiers and officers at the Second Historical Archives. Local gazettes also contained information about the war dead, which may have been excluded from the official tally. Li and Ren, preface to Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 1:1–4. 120. Li Qiang, ed., Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi ziliao xubian, vols. 2–9 (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan, 2015). 121. I borrow this idea of fictive kinship from Laqueur’s discussion of the liber memorialis. Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015), 383. 122. Zhuidao kongjun xunguo lieshi tekan, reprinted in Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 13:291–346. 123. Lujun di wu jun Guinan Kunlun guan zhanyi zhenwang jiangshi zhuidao dahui jinian ce, reprinted in Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 13:481–596. 124. Ganbu jiaoyu zongdui tuan Baoshan zhenwang jiangshi jinian zhuankan, reprinted in Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 13:347–480. 125. “Wu County War of Resistance tales of the fallen,” January 8, 1946, SHB SHA 1-34-1645. 126. “Liu Jiwen’s petition,” June 12, 1946, GMZF AH 001-0360000-0156, file 50009028. 127. “Monthly report on compensating cases of fallen homeland protectors,” 1947–1948, MOI AH 026000014421A. 128. “Guangxi provincial government to Ministry of the Interior,” September 6, 1948, MOI AH 026000014378A. 129. “Qingdao lieshi yizu qiqi da nao shi fu” [Qingdao martyrs’ relatives made noise at the municipal government on July 7], Huabei ribao [North China Daily], July 12, 1948, 5. 130. Scott, Seeing Like a State, 11. 131. Thomas W. Laqueur, “Memory and Naming in the Great War,” in Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity, ed. John R. Gillis (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), 160; Laqueur, Work of the Dead, 414. 132. Laqueur, Work of the Dead, 445. 133. An official History Office (Shiguan) was set up in 629 CE to maintain historical archives. It was officially renamed the State History Bureau (Guoshiguan) during the Song and Ming dynasties. Achim Mittag, “Chinese Official Historical Writing under the Ming and Qing,” in The Oxford History of Historical Writing, vol. 3: 1400–1800, ed. José Rabasa, et al. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 24n2, 28. The founding emperor of the Qing Empire, Hong Taiji (1592–1643 CE), established the Literary Office (Wen guan) in 1629 CE to “record affairs of the kingdom, understand past kingly experience, and produce reliable histories.” When the Qing dynasty was officially established in 1636 CE, the Literary Office was organized into the Three Inner Courts (Nei san yuan). One of the Three Inner Courts was the Imperial Office of History (Guoshiyuan), which “recorded, commended on, and issued imperial proclamations and collected and compiled historical materials.” Angela Zito, Of Body and Brush: Grand Sacrifice as Text/Performance in Eighteenth-Century China (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 62–63. 134. “Falü: Guoshiguan guanzhi” [Law: State History Bureau System], Zhengfu gongbao [Government Gazette], no. 181, 1912, 5.

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135. “Guoshiguan zuzhi tiaoli” [State History Bureau Organization Regulations], Faling zhoukan [Law and Ordinance Weekly], no. 50, 1946, 4. 136. “Legislative Yuan to national government,” March 8, 1946, GMZF AH 001-012049-0002, file 50102337. 137. The 1941 compilation contains biographies of 318 combatants, 18 government officials, and 37 civilians (minzhong). The 1943 compilation contains individual biographies of 439 combatants and 34 civilians, and 13 collective biographies. Reprinted in Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 10:233–626, 11:1–438. 138. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:418. 139. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 10:596. 140. Chan Wai-keung, “Contending Memories of the Nation: History Education in Wartime China, 1937–1945,” in The Politics of Historical Production in Late Qing and Republican China, ed. Tze-ki Hon and Robert J. Culp (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2007), 192. 141. This utterance undermines Arthur Waldron’s claim that in China “there is no universal patriotism but rather only individual patriotisms, each inescapably linked to some specific place or group.” Waldron, “China’s New Remembering of World War II: The Case of Zhang Zizhong,” Modern Asian Studies 30, no. 4 (1996): 961. 142. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:589. 143. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 10:623. 144. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:419. 145. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:381. It is useful to compare these martyrs’ biographies with other records, such as that of the elderly Liu Dapeng in The Man Awakened from Dreams, who stayed in the village when the Japanese soldiers invaded Shanxi. Liu’s other family members fled into a valley to avoid the enemy. Liu and the villagers suffered from the Japanese questioning, orders, and outright brutality. Unlike the direct defiance displayed in the compilations of biographies, Liu found ways to resist the Japanese, such as recording rumors about the ultimate defeat of the Japanese, focusing on maintaining social norms during the occupation, and urging the county government to refuse the Japanese demands. Henrietta Harrison, The Man Awakened from Dreams: One Man’s Life in a North China Village, 1857–1942 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 161–63. 146. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:436. Also see Janet M. Theiss, Disgraceful Matters: The Politics of Chastity in Eighteenth-Century China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), 217. 147. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:420. 148. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:416. 149. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:427. 150. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:381. 151. Li and Ren, Kangzhan zhenwang jiangshi, 11:415. 152. Margaret Mih Tillman, Raising China’s Revolutionaries: Modernizing Childhood for Cosmopolitan Nationalists and Liberated Comrades, 1920s–1950s (New York: Columbia University Press, 2018), 111. 153. “Legislative Yuan to national government,” March 8, 1946, GMZF AH 001012049-0002, file 50102337. 154. “National government’s decree,” March 12, 1946, GMZF AH 001-0120490002, file 50102338.

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155. “Case of promoting compensation for protecting-the-homeland wounded and fallen civilians,” 1946–1947, MOI AH 026000014409A; “How to distribute stipends to protecting the homeland wounded and fallen civilians,” 1946–1947, MOI AH 026000014417A; “Promoting compensation for wounded and fallen homeland protectors,” 1947–1948, MOI AH 026000014419A; and “Homeland protectors’ stipend adjustments,” 1948, MOI AH 026000014420A. 156. “Xingtai County’s survey,” 1946, MOI AH 026000013842A. 157. “Liangxiang County’s survey,” February 1946, MOI AH 026000013842A. 158. “Miyun County’s survey,” May 1946, MOI AH 026000013842A. 159. “Executive Yuan to national government,” July 15, 1946, GMZF AH 001036180-0006, file 50009580. 160. “National government’s draft decree,” September 24, 1946, GMZF AH 001036180-0006, file 50009581. 161. Scholars have argued that the 1911 Revolution was of ideological significance, as late Qing and early Republic reformers and radicals perceived violence “as virtuous rather than villainous.” Louise P. Edwards and Lili Zhou, “Gender and the ‘Virtue of Violence’: Creating a New Vision of Political Engagement through the 1911 Revolution,” Frontiers of History in China 6, no. 4 (2011): 486. 162. Aaron Sheehan-Dean, The Calculus of Violence: How Americans Fought the Civil War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018), 7. 163. Siniša Maleševic´, The Sociology of War and Violence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Siniša Maleševic´, The Rise of Organized Brutality: A Historical Sociology of Violence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). Epilogue

1. Robert J. Lopez and Rich Connell, “Marines Win Posthumous Citizenship,” Los Angeles Times, April 3, 2003, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm2003-apr-03-war-citizens3-story.html. 2. “Hongse zhanshi shangwang fuxu tiaoli” [Wounded and Fallen Red Soldier Compensation Regulations], Hongqi zhoubao [Red Flag Weekly], no. 43, 1932, 48–49. 3. “Fuxu weiyuanhui chengli le” [Compensation Committee has been established], Hongse Zhonghua [Red China], no. 246, 1935, 4. 4. “Minbing mingong shangwang fuxu zhanxing tiaoli” [Provisional Wounded and Fallen Civilian Fighter and Laborer Compensation Regulations], Beijing shi zheng bao [Beijing Municipal Administration Gazette] 2 no. 9 (1951). 5. Yang Chan, World War Two Legacies in East Asia: China Remembers the War (New York: Routledge, 2018), chap. 3. 6. “Liu Muqun’s report,” April 15, 1958, Presidential Office Archives (hereafter, POA) AH 011-080100-0008. 7. “Preparatory report on Martyrs’ Shrine renovation,” March 20, 1969, POA AH 011-070400-0032. 8. “Zhang Qun to Presidential Office,” March 20, 1969, POA AH 011-070400-0032. 9. See annual reports of presidential visits to the Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine from 1950 to 1981 in POA AH 011-070400-0032. 10. Office of the President of the Republic of China (Taiwan), “President Chen Attends the Ceremony at the Yuanshan Martyrs Shrine,” September 3, 2003, https:// english.president.gov.tw/NEWS/1431, accessed December 1, 2019.

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11. Chang-tai Hung, Mao’s New World: Political Culture in the Early People’s Republic (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011), 228. 12. “Shoudu gejie siwan yu ren zuo jihui zhuidao weida gemingjia Ren Bishi hui hou jiang lingjiu songbin xijiao Babao shan renmin gongmu” [More than 40,000 people from all walks of life in the capital gathered yesterday to mourn the great revolutionary Ren Bishi and sent his casket to the Eight Treasures Mountain People’s Cemetery in the western suburbs], Guangming ribao [Enlightenment Daily], October 31, 1950. 13. “Qu Qiubai tongzhi yi gu zai Beijing anzang” [Remains of comrade Qu Qiubai reburied in Beijing], Guangming ribao [Enlightenment Daily], June 19, 1955. 14. Hung, Mao’s New World, 224–34. 15. Hung, Mao’s New World, 217, 227. 16. Chang-tai Hung, “Revolutionary History in Stone: The Making of a Chinese National Monument,” China Quarterly, June 2001, 457–73. 17. Jung Keun-Sik, “China’s Memory and Commemoration of the Korean War in the Memorial Hall of the ‘War to Resist U.S. Aggression and Aid Korea,’” CrossCurrents: East Asian History and Culture Review 4, no. 1 (2015): 14–39. 18. He Yinan, “Remembering and Forgetting the War: Elite Mythmaking, Mass Reaction, and Sino-Japanese Relations, 1950–2006,” History and Memory 19 no. 2 (2007): 43–74. 19. Sheila Miyoshi Jager and Rana Mitter, introduction to Ruptured Histories: War, Memory, and the Post–Cold War in Asia, ed. Sheila Miyoshi Jager and Rana Mitter (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 3. 20. Chang Jui-te, “The Politics of Commemoration: A Comparative Analysis of the Fiftieth-Anniversary Commemoration in Mainland China and Taiwan of the Victory in the Anti-Japanese War,” in Scars of War: The Impact of Warfare on Modern China, ed. Diana Lary and Stephen MacKinnon (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2001), 135–60. 21. Arthur Waldron, “China’s New Remembering of World War II: The Case of Zhang Zizhong,” Modern Asian Studies 30, no. 4 (1996): 950. 22. Parks M. Coble, “China’s ‘New Remembering’ of the Anti-Japanese War of Resistance, 1937–1945,” China Quarterly, June 2007, 394–410. 23. Shi-chi Mike Lan, “‘Crime’ of Interpreting: Taiwanese Interpreters as War Criminals of World War II,” in New Insights in History of Interpreting, ed. Kayoko Takeda and Jesús Baigorri-Jalón (Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 2016), 209–10. Reports of the mission can be found in Lu Junsheng and Ceng Xiaowen, eds., Nanyang yinglie: Erzhan qijian Babuyaniujineiya jingnei guojun jiangshi jilu (Taipei: Guofangbu shizheng bianyi ju, 2009). 24. Lan, “‘Crime’ of Interpreting,” 208–19. 25. Ho Horn-ru and Deborah Kuo, “Cemetery in India for Unknown ROC Soldiers Re-dedicated,” Taiwan News, December 9, 2011, https://www.taiwannews. com.tw/en/news/1782511, accessed July 1, 2019. 26. Somen Sengupta, “Forgotten Souls,” The Statesman, May 13, 2018, https:// www.thestatesman.com/supplements/forgotten-souls-1502635052.html, accessed July 1, 2019. 27. “China Wants Historical Cemetery at Ramgarh to Be Turned into Global Tourist Spot,” Times of India, January 4, 2018, https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/ india/china-wants-historical-cemetery-at-ramgarh-to-be-turned-into-global-touristspot/articleshow/62495272.cms, accessed April 11, 2018.

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Index

Page numbers in italic refer to figures and tables. adoption. See heirs, adopted affect, 110–15 afterlife, 12, 29 Altar to Agriculture, 31–32 American Civil War. See United States American Graves Registration Service, 72 ancestor worship, 10–12, 215n40 Anhui Province, 7, 29, 47, 96, 159, 172, 192 annuities, 4. See also stipends Anti-Japanese Resistance War. See War of Resistance Army for the Protection of the Country, 83 assassins, 27–28, 30, 41, 59–60, 95 autumn sacrifices. See spring and autumn sacrifices Bai Chengzhai, 153 Bai Chongxi, 63, 101, 158 bandits: anti-bandit campaigns, 70–72, 88; “cursing the bandits,” 100, 142–43, 147 Banner system, 148 baojia (collective security and administration), 91–92, 142, 154. See also lianbao Baoshan Fallen Cadre and Education Corps Special Issue, 180 Beijing (Beiping): municipal government, 48; shrines, 31, 169–70, 194–95; war commemoration, 196, 198 Beiyang government: commendation law, 55, 120; Nationalist Party and, 49, 58–60, 95; public sacrifices and, 31–33, 162; revolutionary martyrs and, 3–5, 26, 83; State History Bureau, 182 belonging, 17–18, 80–81 beneficiaries, eligibility of, 86–90. See also compensation law; death benefits bereaved families, 16, 83–90, 115; affect and, 110–15; discontent in, 63–64, 107–10;

economic class of, 176; petitions by, 90–95 (see also petitions for compensation). See also compensation law; death benefits; stipends; tuition waivers biographies of martyrs, 33–37, 76, 93–95; bureaucratic collection of, 150, 171–88 Biographies of the Shanghai Anti-Japanese Killed-in-Combat Martyrs, 70–71 Bi Yongnian, 58 Buddhism, 76, 77 bureaucracy, 8, 85–86; collection of death data, 150, 171–82. See also civil bureaucrats; commendation law; compensation law; government officials; Nationalist Party; nation-state, building of; necrobureaucracy; petitions for compensation Bureau of Legal Affairs, 50 burial arrangements and funeral fees, 8, 16, 61–64, 72, 84–85, 109, 115, 130, 134. See also cemeteries; public military cemeteries Burma, 158, 178, 197 Cai E, 83–85, 93, 104 Cai Gongshi, 66 Cai Jimin, 2–3 cemeteries, 44–45, 82, 165, 178, 186, 194–96, 198. See also burial arrangements and funeral fees; public military cemeteries Cenotaph, 77 Central Compensation Committee, 58, 95, 100, 109, 134, 171–72, 173–74 Central Executive Committee, 8, 47, 57–58, 61–62, 70–71, 85, 87, 92, 100, 108, 139, 143, 193 Central Political Council, 57, 86, 105, 109 Central Special Committee, 62, 229n58 Chahar Province, 167, 175, 177

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chastity, 12, 53, 55, 119–22, 128, 142, 147. See also remarriage; widows, chastity of Chen Gengxin, 21–25 Chen Jingyue, 59 Chen Jiongming, 33, 44–45, 49, 60, 93, 136, 222n50 Chen Kejun, 21 Chen Lifu, 156 Chen Wenbao, 38–39, 40 Chen Yushen, 21, 23–24 Chiang Kai-shek, 3, 31, 109, 234n55; civilian martyrdom and, 149, 152–53, 155; Communist forces and, 66–67; compensation law and, 64, 95, 96, 115; on female chastity, 142; power and authority of, 51, 68, 71, 75–76; public military cemetery and, 69–71; Republican martyrdom and, 5; schools and, 106; shrines and, 157–58, 167, 168–69, 193–94. See also Nationalist government; Northern Expedition children, 185. See also education; heirs China. See Ming Empire; nation-state, building of; People’s Republic of China; Qing Empire; Republic of China Chongqing, 153–54, 157, 161, 169 Christianity, 11, 214n19 Chu ci (Songs of Chu), 5, 12, 162–63 citizen militias, 97, 150–51, 153–54 citizenship: male citizenship ideal, 25–26, 37–42, 49; proxy, 85–86, 116–17; sacrifice and, 7, 28, 147. See also necrocitizenry City God Temples, 14, 216n58 civil bureaucrats: female, 90; imperial, 189; military positions and, 152, 155. See also bureaucracy; government officials civil codes, 86–88, 128, 140, 241n65 civilianization of war, 148–57 civilian martyrdom, 5, 33–37, 42, 141–47, 149–57, 252n145. See also patriotism Civil Servant Stipend Regulations, 233n28, 234n44 Cold War, 149, 194, 196 commemoration, 10–17, 34; community and, 51, 80–81, 157–58, 190–91; government-scheduled dates for, 77–78, 163–64; names and, 182; Western modes of, 1, 17, 72, 76–77. See also biographies of martyrs; commemorative structures; elegies; public sacrifices; shamanistic tradition; shrines commemorative structures, 8, 15, 155, 160–61, 191, 195; aesthetics of, 165–66, 195; legitimacy and, 157. See also shrines

commendation law, 7, 191; feminine virtues and, 120, 129–35; list of, 201–4; morality and, 51–57; War of Resistance, 144 Commendation Regulations, 52, 55–57, 120, 142 Communist Party, Chinese: founding of, 34; martyrs and, 16, 48; militarization, 148; military and civilian conflicts with, 56, 66–67, 97–100, 141–44; traditional culture and, 121. See also People’s Republic of China (PRC) compensation law, 83–115; bureaucracy and, 8, 85–86, 180; for civilian martyrs, 151–57, 181, 192; eligibility, 9–10, 57–61, 86–90; for government officials, 57, 61, 90, 96, 104, 185–86, 246n38; list of, 201–4; for local militias, 97; for military martyrs, 57, 59–61, 64–69, 96–97, 104, 186–87; Nanjing decade criteria, 50–82; Nanjing Provisional Government and, 30; for Nationalist Party members, 7–8, 57–64, 92, 104–5 (see also Party Member Compensation Regulations); revolutionary martyrdom and, 63, 83–85, 104–10, 190; virtues and, 51–57; War of Resistance and, 135–41, 151–57, 177, 180–81, 184–87; widows and, 116–41, 144–45. See also commemorative structures; death benefits; petitions for compensation; stipends; tuition waivers concubines, 88, 126, 128–29, 133, 138–39, 242n68 Confucian scholars, 41, 189–90 Confucian virtues and ideals, 14, 36–38, 77, 120, 121, 135. See also Neo-Confucianism; virtue Control Yuan, 109 county governments: martyred county heads, 152–53; petition letters, 91–92; stipend disbursement, 101–2. See also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines death: bureaucratization of, 85, 150, 171–82; categories of causes, 172, 176, 247n56; commemoration of (see commemoration; shrines); the dead and the nation, 4–10 (see also legitimacy; nationalism; patriotism); glorification of, 41, 187–88 (see also violence); statistics on, 150, 171–82. See also afterlife; ancestor worship; civilian martyrdom; martyrdom; necrocitizenry; revolutionary martyrdom; spirits

INDEX death benefits, 83–115, 138, 191; affect and, 110–15; eligibility of beneficiaries, 86–90; fraud and, 92; virtue and, 51–57. See also burial arrangements and funeral fees; compensation law; stipends; tuition waivers Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), 194, 197 democratization: martyrdom, 147–48; war, 135 Directory of Republic of China Loyal and Sacrificing Officers and Soldiers, 178–79 Du Xi, 109–10 education, 53, 105–7, 112–13, 124, 130–33, 148, 155–56. See also tuition waivers Education and Culture Fund, 105–6 Eight Treasures Mountain, 169–70, 194–95 elegies and eulogies, 3, 33, 47–48, 79–81, 162–63 emotions, 110–15, 135 enshrinement. See shrines Europe, memorialization in, 1, 10, 72 Executive Yuan, 4; civilian martyrs and, 153–54, 156–57; commendation laws and, 50–51; compensation law and, 61, 62–63, 97; military war dead and, 67–69; petitions and, 85, 137, 139 family structures: compensation and, 86–90, 138. See also lineages; marriage; remarriage; state-family relations; widows Fang Shengtao, 44, 224n88 Fan Hongxian, 95, 108 Fan Zhuxian, 150–51 female martyrdom, 6, 117, 141–45. See also women feminine virtues. See virtue feminist movement, 118, 145 filial piety: commendation law and, 53–55; of female petitioners, 126, 129; patriotism and, 143; in petitions, 85; revolutionary duty and, 37–38, 41–42, 49; shrines and, 12; of sons, 142–43 First Shanghai War, 66, 70–72, 106, 107, 139 friendship, 38 Fujian Province, 47, 106, 134, 159, 172, 246n38 Fukuda Hikosuke, 66 funerals. See burial arrangements and funeral fees Fu Zuoyi, 167, 178, 249n86

275

Gansu Province, 175 gazettes, 13, 108, 116, 186 gender norms, 86, 89, 116–24, 192; male bonding and, 38, 42. See also male citizenship ideal; state-family relations; widows; women government officials, 12–13; compensation for family members of, 57, 61, 90, 96, 104, 185–86, 246n38. See also civil bureaucrats Government Official Stipend Regulations, 54, 90, 96, 151, 156, 157, 233n28 Great Han heroes, 26–31, 59. See also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines Guangdong Province, 20, 36, 44–45, 47, 102, 130, 136–37, 159, 167, 179, 186, 228n43 Guangxi Province, 20, 47, 101, 159, 172, 181, 186, 222n50 Guangzhou, 20, 49, 93, 172 Guan Yu, 15, 161 Guan-Yue Temples, 15, 76, 157, 160, 161, 169–70, 231n100 Guizhou Province, 175 Guo, Mrs., née Lin, 113–14 Guo Dawang, 113–14 Guo Meiti, 114 Guomindang. See Nationalist Party guoshang. See national martyrs Han ethnonationalism, 6, 26–27, 29–30. See also Great Han heroes Hanlin Academy, 13 Hebei Province, 47, 159, 172, 186–87 Heilongjiang Province, 175 heirs: adopted, 127–28, 132, 139–41, 241n62, 241n65; education of, 130–32. See also inheritance; lineages He Jian, 103, 151 Henan Province, 47, 159, 161–62, 175, 186–87, 192 He Yingqin, 102, 103 Historical Materials Bureau, 177 historical time, perception of, 15, 34–37 history bureaus, 85, 109, 180, 182, 251n133 History Office, 251n133 honor and rewards systems, 52–54, 57. See also commendation law; Commendation Regulations; compensation law Huang Fu, 63–64 Huanghuagang qishier lieshi shilüe (Zou Lu, ed.), 34–45, 40, 46, 49, 134, 184 Huangpu Military Academy, 75

276

INDEX

Huang Xing, 30, 84, 104–5, 182 Hubei Province, 2–4, 97, 159, 172, 192 Hu Hanmin, 20, 36, 182 humaneness, 36, 54, 222n58 Hunan Province, 29, 85, 106, 158, 172, 175, 186 identity construction, 15, 17–19, 34 imperial government. See Ming Empire; Qing Empire; specific dynasties Imperial War Graves Commission, 72 India, 178, 196 inheritance, 86–87, 89, 119, 126–28. See also heirs; lineages injury tables, 65, 66 Iron and Blood Army, 113 Japanese Army, 64, 66–67, 70, 102–3, 169, 177. See also Marco Polo Bridge Incident; Mukden Incident; War of Resistance Jiangsu Province, 7, 13, 47, 172; compensation and, 153; county shrines, 78–81, 159, 164–66; Department of Civil Affairs, 51–52, 165; widows’ petitions to, 125–30 Jiangxi Province, 7, 29, 32, 47, 93, 108, 141, 172, 186 Jiang Yiwu, 60 Jilin Province, 175 Jinan Incident, 64, 100 Jing Wumu, 62 Joint Logistical Headquarters, 171–72; Compensation Department, 177–79 Judicial Executive Committee, 86 Judicial Yuan, 140–41 Kang Shude, 143–44 Kangzhan teshu zhongyong jun min timing lu (Directory of War of Resistance Outstandingly Courageous Servicemen and Civilians), 183 kinship structures, 86–90, 136. See also statefamily relations Kong Xiangxi (H. H. Kung), 156, 158 Korea, 122 Korean War, 19, 195 leaders, 12–13; political power of, 68. See also bureaucracy; Chiang Kai-shek; legitimacy; Nationalist Party; nation-state, building of; Revolutionary Alliance; Sun Yat-sen; Wang Jingwei; specific leaders Legislative Yuan, 50, 140, 155, 185

legitimacy: affect and, 111; commemorative sites and, 157; the dead and, 4–5, 7; honors and rewards systems and, 57; memorial services and, 190–91; of Republican martyrs, 14; social and cultural, 30 lianbao, 154 Liangbi, 28 Liang Qichao, 83 lieshi, 6, 214n19 Li Hongzhang, 13 Liji (The book of rites), 6 lineages, 37–38, 41; adoption and, 132; patriarchal, 86, 130; widows and, 9. See also family structures; heirs Linggu Pagoda, 69, 74 Lin Guanci, 59 Lin Jinjian, 150–51 Lin Juemin, 17, 37, 133–35, 134 Lin Sen, 34, 44, 48, 67, 109, 158 Lin Shangying, née You, 133–35 Lin Yimin, 17 Li Ruxian, 138–39 List of Names of War of Resistance Wounded and Fallen Officers and Soldiers in the Nankou Campaign, 177–78, 250n116 Literature Society, 60 Liu Ruming, 178, 250n116 Li Yuanhong, 3–4 Li Zongren, 101, 158, 234n55 local governments: petition letters to, 91–92. See also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, countylevel (local); provincial government; specific provinces Local Worthies’ Shrines, 12–13, 171 Longhai railway, 106, 236n80 Longhua Martyrs’ Cemetery, 196 Long Jiguang, 59 Long March, 100 Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine Establishment and Maintenance Measure, 158 Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, 7, 10–15; countylevel (local), 1, 15, 32, 47, 75–82, 150, 158–71, 160, 175, 186–87, 190, 248n70; Great Han heroes, 26–31; memorial services at, 28–29, 32–33; in provisional capital of Chongqing, 157; revolutionary martyrs and, 51, 115; in Taiwan, 169, 193–94. See also shrines loyalty, 1, 28, 49, 53, 54, 80–81 Lunyu (The Analects), 36 Lu Renyu, 60–61 Lu Rongting, 60

INDEX Lu Weiye, 60–61, 92–93, 94 Lu Zhiyun, 93 Ma Fuyi, 28 male citizenship ideal, 25–26, 37–42, 49 Manchuria, 66 Manchus, 26–27, 29–30, 119–20, 148 Manifest Loyalty Shrines: civilians honored in, 149; converted to Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, 26, 29, 47, 76, 159–61, 165, 170; imperial construction of, 13; as model, 32; numbers of, 248n70; survival of, 29–30, 161 Mao Zedong, 56, 227n28 Marco Polo Bridge Incident, 15, 163, 196 marriage, 119–20; ideal male citizens and, 37–38; polygamous, 104–5. See also remarriage; widows martyrdom, 1–10; Christian, 214n19; criteria during Nanjing decade, 50–82; democratization of, 146–50, 158 (see also civilian martyrdom); nation formation and, 34 (see also nation-state, building of); virtues and, 51–57, 82. See also biographies of martyrs; civilian martyrdom; commemoration; commendation law; compensation law; death; female martyrdom; Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines; military martyrs; national martyrs (guoshang); revolutionary martyrdom; shrines Ma Ying-jeou, 196–97 Measures to Offer Sacrifices to Martyrs and Construct Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines and Memorial Steles, 68 Measure to Compensate Citizens Wounded or Killed When Protecting the Homeland, 143 Measure to Construct County Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines, 75–76, 79 Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders, 196 memorial service guidelines, 162–63. See also commemoration; public sacrifices Mengxia, 59. See also Wu Yue Mengzi (The book of Mencius), 36 militarization, 147–49; ideal male citizen and, 39–42. See also warlords and warlordism Military Affairs Commission, 4, 8, 60, 64–65, 71–72, 128; Compensation Committee, 103, 136, 176–77; Political

277

Department, 182–83; shrines and, 158; statistics on war dead, 171–72; stipend disbursement, 100, 177. See also posthumous honors military martyrs, 5, 7, 51, 64–75; compensation law and, 57, 59–61, 64–69, 96–97, 104, 186–87; increase in numbers of, 96; officers, 104; rise of, 82; shrines for, 13; statistics on, 150, 171–82, 179. See also Manifest Loyalty Shrines; National Revolutionary Army; Northern Expedition; public military cemeteries; War of Resistance; World War II military parades, 157–58, 167, 198 military schools, 40, 148 militias, 97, 150–51, 153–54 Ming Empire: female chastity and, 119–20, 128; Hongwu Emperor of, 32; Manchu conquests of, 148; state-sponsored shrines, 14 Ministry of Civil Service, 154 Ministry of Defense, 100, 172, 177, 181, 193, 196, 250n110 Ministry of Education, 156 Ministry of Finance, 100, 137 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 178 Ministry of Military Administration, 4, 61; citizen militias and, 153; commendation law, 56; compensation, 69, 88, 92, 106–7; statistics on war dead, 171–72; stipend disbursement, 100, 103. See also posthumous honors Ministry of Social Affairs, 246n40 Ministry of the Army, 26, 28 Ministry of the Interior, 8, 67–68; commendation law and, 56; compensation law and, 62–63, 97, 153, 181; martyrs’ biographies and, 76; petition letters, 91–92; statistics on enshrined martyrs, 172–75 modernity, 5. See also nation-state, building of modernization, 11 Monument to the People’s Heroes, 195, 196 moral norms, 118–19, 129–35; exceptional moral conduct, 55–56. See also virtue mourning, 16–17; collective, 51, 190–91. See also bereaved families Mukden Incident, 15, 66, 70, 107, 143 Museum of the War of Chinese People’s Resistance against Japanese Aggression, 196

278

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Nanjing decade, 30–31, 48, 50–82 Nanjing Provisional Government, 5, 26–30, 49, 60, 182 Nankou Campaign (Operation Chahar), 177–78 Nanyue Loyal Martyrs’ Shrine, 158, 196–97 National Defense Fallen Officers’ and Soldiers’ Family Compensation and Education Committee, 107 National Defense Supreme Council, 155 national identity. See identity construction nationalism, 111, 189–99; female chastity and, 117; patriarchal, 9; violence and, 182–88. See also Han ethnonationalism; nationalist religiosity Nationalist government: establishment of, 3; leaders of, 50–51, 68; move to Nanjing, 69 (see also Nanjing decade); wartime capital in Chongqing, 153–54, 157, 161, 169. See also nation-state, building of; statefamily relations; specific ministries and central committees Nationalist Party: number of members, 234n40; revolutionary martyrs, 25–37, 42–49, 51, 173–74, 189–90; statistics on war dead, 172; unification within, 42–49. See also Chiang Kai-shek; Nationalist government; Sun Yat-sen nationalist religiosity, 11–14, 51, 81–82, 215n42. See also nationalism national martyrs, 5–7, 51, 58–61, 63; “dying for the National Revolution” as requirement for, 67–68, 75. See also martyrdom National Protection Shrine, 167, 193 National Revolutionary Army: compensation law and, 92, 97, 106; martyrs, 7, 51, 66–75, 178; school for bereaved children, 106, 148. See also military martyrs National Revolutionary Army Public Cemetery (for Fallen Officers and Soldiers), 69–75, 73–74, 157 National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine, 197–98 National Treasury, 102, 186 nation-state, building of, 4–17, 34–37, 189–99, 217nn59–60; centralized government, 2, 60, 83, 118; compensation law and, 58, 117, 191–92; shrines and, 80–81 necrobotany, 45 necrobureaucracy, 85 necrocitizenry, 1, 159; civilian, 147; compensation law and, 57; defined, 7;

extension of, 75–82; increase in, 141; proxy citizenship and, 86; revolutionary martyrs, 49, 67–68, 75 necropolitics, 147, 191 necropower, 5, 188 Neo-Confucianism, 6, 16, 119, 231n103. See also Confucian virtues and ideals New Army, 23, 26, 31, 60, 83–84. See also Wuchang uprising New Culture movement, 118, 120–21 New Life movement, 118 Ningxia Province, 175 Ni Sichong, 111–12, 238n100 Niu Yongjian, 51–52, 56, 92–93 Northern Expedition, 7, 15, 35, 51, 64, 69–72, 75–76, 222n50 nuclear family, 86, 138 Opium Wars, 195 Pan Dazheng, 20 Pan Shaolou, 111 Pan Yuelou, 111–12 Papua New Guinea, 196 partification, 106 Party Historical Commission, 58 Party History Bureau, 109 Party Member Compensation Regulations, 54, 57, 59, 62, 84, 95, 102, 108, 116, 132, 136, 228n50 patriarchal family. See family structures; lineages patriarchal state, 8–9, 121–22 patriotism, 37, 80–81, 181, 252n141; bereavement and, 113; of civilian martyrs, 18–19; feminine virtue and, 144; filial piety and, 143; shrines and, 15, 17–18; violence and, 182–88 Peace Movement, 157, 192 Peng Chufan, 2 Peng Jiazhen, 27–28, 59, 63, 109, 182 Peng Shousong, 108, 138–39 pensions, 54, 65. See also compensation law; stipends People’s Republic of China (PRC), 192–99. See also Communist Party petitions for compensation, 3–4, 8, 13, 16–17, 62–64, 67–68, 84–86; appeals process, 93; investigations of, 92; process for, 90–95; standardized forms for, 135; War of Resistance and, 135–41; from widows, 124–29. See also compensation law police officers, 151–52, 170

INDEX posthumous honors, 12, 16; for civilian martyrs, 149, 155, 188; military promotions, 30, 84, 97, 128 predecessor martyrs, 58–59 Protecting the Homeland Wounded or Killed Citizen Compensation Measure, 151, 156 provincial government, 28; compensation law, 97–100; petition letters, 91–92; stipend disbursement, 102. See also specific provinces Provisional Peacetime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations, 64–65, 88, 99 Provisional Wartime Army, Navy, and Air Force Compensation Regulations, 65, 66, 68, 87–88, 98, 153 public military cemeteries, 1, 11, 51, 69–75, 194 public sacrifices, 12, 15, 31–33, 47–48, 79–80, 162–64, 181, 190–91. See also sacrificial offerings; shrines; spring and autumn sacrifices Purple Mountain, 69 Qingdao, 167 Qing Empire: civilianization of war, 149; female chastity and, 119–20, 128, 147, 239n12; history bureaus, 251n133; honor and rewards systems, 52–54, 57; militancy and, 39–41; overthrow of, 2, 27, 35, 51; shrines, 14, 29, 33 Qingming festival, 77 Qiu Jin, 28 Qu Qiubai, 195 Qu Yuan, 5, 25, 109 race and ethnicity, 6, 26–27, 29–30, 182–83, 219n12 Red Army, 192 Red Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb, 60 Rehe Province, 159, 175 religion. See nationalist religiosity remarriage, 87–88, 90, 93, 95, 118–19, 126, 129–30, 136, 138–41, 243n92. See also marriage Ren Bishi, 194 Reorganized Nationalist Government (RNG), 157 Republic of China: 1911 Revolution and transition from empire to nationstate, 2, 4, 5, 17, 26, 27, 30, 35, 49, 51, 189–99 (see also nation-state, building of; revolutionary martyrdom); leaders

279

of (see individual leaders); map of, xiv. See also Beiyang government; Nanjing decade; Nationalist government; Reorganized Nationalist Government; Revolutionary Alliance Restoration Society, 27 Revive China Society, 27 Reviving China Society, 60 Revolutionary Alliance, 27, 28, 31, 33, 44, 49, 108, 224n88; leaders of, 68; national martyrdom and, 6–7, 51, 58–61, 63, 190 Revolutionary Commemoration Committee, 47, 58, 60, 136–37 revolutionary martyrdom, 2–4, 20–49; Beiyang government and, 31–33; compensation and, 63, 83–85, 104–10, 190; Confucian virtues and, 189–90; diminished significance of, 51; female family members and, 121–22, 131–33, 136; funerals for martyrs, 61–64; Great Han heroes, 26–31 (see also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines); ideal male citizenship and, 5–6, 37–42; Nationalist Party members, 57–61; Nationalist Party unification and, 42–49; righteous, 33–37; soldiers and, 68. See also Wuchang uprising; Yellow Flower Hill uprising martyrs Revolutionary Memorial Shrine, 61 righteousness, 17, 36, 42, 53–55, 222n59 sacrifice: female, 117–18, 131; memorializing (see commemoration; public sacrifices; shrines); necrocitizenship and, 7, 28, 147. See also martyrdom sacrificial offerings, 32–33, 77, 79–80, 163, 167, 225n104. See also public sacrifices School Teaching and Administrative Staff Pension and Stipend Regulations, 156 Second Sino-Japanese War. See War of Resistance secret societies, 20, 26, 38, 148, 161 secular shrines, 12–13, 171 Seventy-Two Yellow Flower Hill Martyrs’ Tomb, 44–45, 46. See also Yellow Flower Hill uprising martyrs sexuality. See chastity Shaanxi Province, 153, 159, 238n113 shamanistic tradition, 5, 12, 80–81 Shandong Province, 159, 172 Shanghai, 48, 166, 196 Shanxi Province, 159, 175, 180, 186 Shao Yuanchong, 109 Shi Jianru, 27 Shintoˉ shrines, 164–67

280

INDEX

shrines: construction costs, 166; conversion of, 15, 26, 29, 47, 76, 157, 159–62, 164–67, 169–70; eligibility for enshrinement, 158; features of, 45; imperial tradition of, 12–13; martyrs’ biographies and, 76 (see also biographies of martyrs); Republican era, 1, 10–17; of revolutionary martyrs, 26–33, 44; secular, 12–13, 171. See also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines; Manifest Loyalty Shrines; sacrificial offerings; spirit tablets; spring and autumn sacrifices Sichuan Province, 159 Smedley, Agnes, 195 Society of Elders and Brothers, 28, 62 socioeconomic class, 176 soldiers. See military martyrs Song dynasty, 6, 12, 127–28 Song Jiaoren, 31, 108, 182 Song Yuanyuan, 56 Song Yulin, 40–41 Song Ziwen, 144 Soong Ching-ling, 106 Soong Mei-ling, 169 soul-calling, 80–81 Southwest Political Committee, 105 Soviet government, 192 spirits, 10–12, 51, 80–81 spirit tablets, 15, 76–77, 78, 159, 161–62, 165–66, 186, 197, 231n103 spring and autumn sacrifices, 12, 29, 31, 47, 77, 81, 163–64, 168, 191, 193–94, 197–98 state building. See nation-state, building of state-family relations: compensation for bereaved families and, 83–115; gender dynamics and, 8–9, 116–45 State Funeral Law, 109 State Funeral Ritual, 109 State History Academy, 28, 182 State History Bureau, 180, 182, 251n133 stipends, 8, 54, 115; disbursement of, 100–104, 137, 141, 177; stipend certificates, 92–93, 94, 100, 104; stipend scales, 64–65, 95–97, 98–99, 103–4, 108, 156, 215n37. See also compensation law Strong, Anna Louise, 195 students, 156–57. See also education suicide, 109–10, 142–43, 145, 150, 214n23 Sun Yat-sen, 20, 26–30, 33, 45, 49, 224n103; commemoration of, 165; compensation awarded by, 93; Great Han heroes and, 59; last will and testament, 47; martyrs and, 60, 68; medals given by, 52; opponents of, 222n50; people’s welfare

and, 115; portraits of, 11; preface to Huanghuagang, 35–37; supporters of, 62, 67, 95, 108, 124–26, 136; tomb of, 69; virtues and, 55; worship of, 216n47 Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum, 157, 197 Sun Yuanliang, 70 Taiping Civil War, 13, 15, 26, 148 Taiwan, 167, 169, 193–94, 197–99 Tang Caichang, 58 Tang Enbo, 178 Tan Sitong, 58 Tan Yankai, 62, 68, 124–25 teachers, 156–57. See also education Three Principles of the People, 36–37, 68 Tiananmen Square, 195, 198 Tianxiaosheng. See Zheng Lie Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, 76–77 Tsai Ing-wen, 197–98, 255n31 tuition waivers, 8, 59, 84, 89, 105–8, 115, 116, 136, 155–56, 170, 246n44. See also education United States, 135, 191–92; Civil War, 1, 17, 72, 122, 188 Vietnam, 16 violence: glorification of, 187–88; ideal male citizen and, 39–42; narrativizing, 182–88; partisan, 49; terror, 30, 41; as virtuous, 17–19, 39–42, 49, 253n161. See also assassins; militarization virginity, 6. See also chastity virtue: Confucian, 36–38; defined, 55; eligibility for martyrdom and, 51–57, 82; female performance of, 120–22, 129–35, 137, 144–45, 147; textile work and, 112; traditional, 86, 120–21, 145; violence as, 17–19, 39–42, 49 Wang Guozheng, 184–85 Wang Jingwei, 41, 42–44, 51, 63, 67–69, 75, 157, 192, 224n103 Wang Shijie, 50–56, 104, 129, 158, 225n1 Wang Yuting, 176 war dead. See martyrdom warlords and warlordism, 30, 53, 58, 68, 96, 101, 116, 148, 191. See also militarization War of Resistance, 10, 16, 18, 19, 146–50; beginning of, 163; civilianizing of war and, 150–57 (see also civilianization of war; civilian martyrdom); compensation for martyrs’ widows, 117–18,

INDEX 135–41; martyrdom criteria, 247n56; memorializing sacrifice and, 157–71 (see also Loyal Martyrs’ Shrines); statistics on war dead, 150, 171–82. See also Japanese Army War of Resistance Martyr Commendation Regulations, 144, 185–86 War Zone Homeland Protector Reward Regulations, 151, 155–56, 187 Wen Shengcai, 27, 59 White Lotus War, 13, 148 White Terror, 197–98 widows: chastity of, 6, 38, 117, 119–24, 128–30, 138–45, 239n12 (see also remarriage); compensation for, 116–41, 144–45; eligibility for death benefits, 86–90; exploitation of, 128–29; heirs of, 241n49; marginality within family, 240n46; social and political capital of, 8–9; War of Resistance and, 135–41 women: agency of, 122, 144–45; as bureaucrats, 90; duties of, 116, 119, 145; education and, 124; inheritance rights, 86–87, 89, 127–28; loyalty of, 38–39; martyred, 6, 117, 141–45; political rights and freedom, 118, 145; state-family relations and, 8–9, 116–45; tradition and, 38–39; virtuous, 9, 112, 116–35, 142, 144–45, 184 (see also chastity) World War I, 1, 17, 69, 72, 76, 149 World War II, 18, 196. See also War of Resistance Wuchang uprising, 2, 26, 35, 60, 84, 89, 102, 113; commemoration of, 2–3, 29, 32, 34, 49, 164; compensation for family members, 3–4 Wu Luzhen, 30–31, 84, 182 Wu Shiying, 116 Wutai Mountain, 166–67 Wu Yue, 27, 59, 101–2, 132, 241n66 Xi’an Incident, 109 Xikang Province, 175 Xiong Chengji, 108 Xue Dubi, 54–55, 226n16 xundang, 6 xunguo, 6 Xu Shichang, 32, 63 Xu Shiying, 107 Xu Xilin, 27–28, 59 Xu Zonghan, 104–5

281

Yang Zengxin, 62–63 Yan Xishan, 178 Yao Yuping, 36 Yasukuni Shrine, 16 Yellow Flower Hill Uprising Commemorative Park, 157, 195 Yellow Flower Hill uprising martyrs, 20–26; biographies of, 33–37; compensation for families of, 45–47, 87, 100–102, 113–14; militarization and, 148; as model of male citizenship, 37–42; national commemoration of, 31–32, 34, 45–49, 51, 58, 163; Nationalist Party unification and, 42–49; relatives of, 125, 133; school curriculum and, 48–49; shrine for, 44–45, 46, 72 Yi Ruilin, 59 youthful martyrs, ideal of self-sacrifice, 25–26, 37, 49 Yuan Shikai, 30–31, 33, 49; commendation law and, 52; opposition to, 62, 83–84, 93, 95, 104, 113, 131; self-coronation, 148; supporters of, 238n100 Yue Fei, 15, 161 Yunnan Province, 83–84, 159, 175, 196, 222n50 Yu Peilun, 41, 43 Yu Zhimo, 28 Zaifeng, Prince Regent, 43 Zang Zaixin, 126–29, 141 Zeng Guofan, 13, 29 Zhang Mingqi, 20, 59 Zhang Renjie, 84, 95 Zhang Shiying, 30 Zhang Xueliang, 66 Zhang Zhizhong, 167 Zhao Guang, 124–25 Zhao Sheng, 20, 124–25, 182 Zhejiang Province, 7, 13, 106, 172, 186 Zheng Lie, 17, 21–25, 34 Zheng Zuoheng, 150–51 zhonglie, 6 Zhong Mingguang, 59 Zhongyuan festival, 77 Zhou Rixuan, 61 Zhu Zhixin, 33, 105. See also Huanghuagang Zou Lu, 33–35, 39, 42, 44, 48, 184. See also Huanghuagang Zou Rong, 27, 189 Zuo Zongtang, 29