Violence and Order on the Chengdu Plain: The Story of a Secret Brotherhood in Rural China, 1939–1949 by Di Wang (review)

It is well known that a vibrant sub-culture of so-called “secret societies” existed in China during at least the last several centuries. Notwithstanding some excellent research on the subject, however, academic writing about these organizations is still in short supply due to the dearth of reliable sources. In this fascinating study, which is part history, part sociology, and part ethnography, Wang builds on his own earlier works about local society in the Chengdu area in southwestern China to offer a glimpse of the inner workings of the Paoge (The Gowned Brothers). Technically an illegal—and hence “secret”—organization with its own distinct operational codes and ethics, the Paoge was extraordinarily influential in the everyday life of the inhabitants of the Chengdu region and beyond. Indeed, as the power of the government receded in the post-1911 period following the demise of the Qing dynasty, the Paoge operated to some extent in the open, in many cases indistinguishable from local governments. Although it did not refrain from using violence to enforce its interests, it was also instrumental in maintaining a modicum of stability in the region—hence, the “violence and order” in the title of the book.

As Wang readily acknowledges, his book took inspiration from earlier microhistorical works by Davis, Darnton, and Ginsburg.¹ Interestingly, much of the foundation for Wang’s attempt at microhistory came from an undergraduate thesis in sociology, completed by twenty-year-old Shen Baoyuan in 1946 at Beijing’s Yenching University, that one of Wang’s friends happened to encounter. The thesis, which focuses on the family of Lei Mingyuan, a Paoge leader, who resided in Hope Township (fictitious name) just outside Chengdu, allows a rare peek into the life of a real Paoge member that goes far beyond the usual popular stories and myths associated with the brotherhood.

Drawing from Shen’s thesis, Wang begins dramatically, directing attention to Lei’s murder of his elder daughter in 1939—after her attempt to elope with a young man—which he committed to save “face” and gain honor among his peers. Wang then turns to investigate the hierarchy, belief system, language, values, rituals, and codes of conduct of the organization. To Wang’s credit, he meticulously combed through disparate sources to create this picture of the Paoge. Aficionados of Chinese novels, dramas, and movies, in which tales of such “secret brotherhoods” are a popular genre, will find that many of the details in Wang’s account have a familiar ring to them.

Not until Wang delves more deeply into Shen’s findings on the Lei’s family does his book truly come alive. At this point, the Paoge is no longer simply represented by rituals or codes; it is embodied by the person and family of Lei. Although Wang aims to make his a story about the brotherhood, women consistently come to the forefront in the narrative. The fact that Shen learned about the life of Lei mostly through his family members might explain why she portrayed Lei at times as something of a cardboard character (161)—a violent man with permed hair to his shoulders who always wore sunglasses, even on a cloudy day, and kept his jacket unbuttoned (112). Shen forged a close relationship with Lei’s second wife and helped his youngest daughter to achieve some of her educational goals, despite her father’s lack of enthusiasm about the idea. The women in Lei’s life—from his daughters to his two wives and even a runaway female servant—all of whom seemingly existed on the margins of the brotherhood, repeatedly animate this interesting and ultimately sad story.

A sub-thread in Wang’s microhistory involves the relationship between the author Shen, an idealistic twenty-one-year-old female student from a privileged background, and Lei...