Communist totalitarianism, transplanted to China from Soviet Russia, has taken deep roots in China, deeper than anywhere else in the world. After the collapse of the Soviet Union and the Eastern European Communist Bloc, Communist China not only survived but further expanded, becoming the world’s second-largest economy. This development gives communist totalitarianism further opportunities to exert profound influence on the world in the future. Such a significant phenomenon could not have occurred merely by chance. At its core, the institutional genes of the Chinese imperial system rejected Western constitutional democracy, leading to the failure of decades-long efforts towards constitutionalism. Furthermore, China’s traditional institutional genes were highly compatible with those of the communist totalitarianism introduced by the Comintern. This compatibility facilitated their amalgamation, enabling the imported totalitarianism to thrive in China.

Ever since the establishment of the unified Qin Empire and the formation of the institutional genes of the Chinese imperial system, throughout the long history of the Chinese Empire, all major institutional evolutions have aimed at perfecting these imperial genes. The most monumental reforms in Chinese history, from Emperor Xiaowen’s institutional adjustments during the Northern Wei dynasty to Wang Anshi’s measures in the Northern Song dynasty and Zhang Juzheng’s in the Ming dynasty, were all, without exception, efforts to enhance and improve imperial governance. As a result, the institutional genes of the Chinese imperial system became increasingly entrenched and sophisticated, remaining unaltered even when foreign invaders conquered and ruled the empire without attempting to challenge it.

From the end of the nineteenth century onwards, impacted by powerful external forces, there was an attempt to change the imperial system into a constitutional monarchy for the first time in the history of the Chinese Empire. However, the concept of constitutional rule was completely foreign to the Chinese. More significantly, the establishment of constitutional rule anywhere in the world results from a compromise among competing powers. It is an arrangement based on checks and balances of power. It is premised on the fact that the opposition party already has substantial power. To protect its rights and interests, it challenges the party in power based on the power it possesses.

However, the Chinese imperial system had long been institutionalized in such a way that, outside of the emperor’s rule, from the highest echelons of governance down to the county level, no independent political, economic, or cultural groups possessed substantial power to challenge the emperor’s authority. As such, the constitutional reforms of the late Qing dynasty did not arise from a challenge to the emperor’s power in defense of independent interests. Instead, they emerged as a state-driven initiative to improve and modernize the imperial system. The reformers viewed constitutional monarchy as a necessary modernization of the imperial system and a means to keep pace with global trends. Thus, early reformers, from those disseminating the ideology to those implementing the reforms, were invariably loyal supporters of the Crown, if not directly associated with it.

9.1 Constitutionalism in Name Only: The Hundred Days’ Reform

For most of its history, the Chinese Empire remained largely isolated from the Western world due to geographical, linguistic, and institutional barriers. Even the most learned Chinese scholars had little knowledge about the world beyond China, including its diverse systems and religions. Similarly, Europe’s understanding of China was predominantly superficial and cursory.

It was not until the late Ming and early Qing dynasties that Jesuit missionaries managed to enter China. However, strict restrictions imposed by the court on their activities rendered their survival uncertain. These missionaries had to exercise self-censorship, selectively transmitting scientific and technical knowledge to China. Their propagation of Christianity was heavily curtailed, let alone their capability to disseminate knowledge on Western institutions, such as the parliamentary, judicial, and property rights systems, as well as the relationship between Europe’s secular and ecclesiastical institutions.

As late as the mid-nineteenth century, even the most knowledgeable Chinese scholars and officials remained uninformed about European academic literature on institutions. They were largely oblivious to the Renaissance, the Reformation, or the Enlightenment. The concept of the British constitutional monarchy was alien to them, let alone the Industrial Revolution and the emergence of the first industrialized nation, the British Empire.

The understanding and prevalence of the spirit of constitutionalism in a society depends not only on the dissemination of knowledge but, more importantly, on the institutional genes of that society. At its core, constitutionalism is a system established to protect individual rights and property rights. In societies with a strong demand for these protections, the spirit of constitutionalism will eventually emerge. However, in societies where individuals lack property rights and are unaware of their rights, even if the concept of constitutionalism is introduced externally, it remains an elusive concept circulating among only a few scholars or advocates, resulting in little societal demand for it. This was the case in Tsarist Russia and, even more so, in Imperial China.

Russian intellectual elites began to grasp a rudimentary understanding of constitutionalism in the late eighteenth century, influenced by the European Enlightenment. After participating in the Napoleonic Wars, the Russian intelligentsia began to strongly advocate for the establishment of a constitutional system from the early nineteenth century onwards. By the mid-to-late nineteenth century, a sizable group of intelligentsia with a partial understanding of constitutionalism, the Populists, emerged, who were ready to fight for it. However, the Russian intelligentsia, actively promoted a version of constitutionalism that advocated the abolition of private property.

On the surface, their ideas seemed to stem from Rousseau’s theory against private property. Yet, the reason the Russian intelligentsia preferred Rousseau over Locke and Montesquieu was deeply rooted in the institutional genes of Tsarist Russia: the general absence of individual and private property rights. It was such institutional genes that made Rousseau’s theories particularly appealing among Russian intelligentsia, so much so that some were even willing to make significant personal sacrifices as martyrs. Driven by secular religious fervor, Russian intelligentsia sought to create a utopia, a fertile ground upon which communist totalitarianism later emerged.

Similar to the situation in Russia but nearly a century later, the understanding of constitutionalism was brought to China primarily by intellectuals returning from abroad when Japan transitioned to a constitutional monarchy and constitutionalism was becoming the general trend in Western Europe. These radical intellectuals took the initiative to organize and promote constitutional reforms and the Republican Revolution at the end of the nineteenth century. Only after the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, however, did substantial interest arise among intellectuals and officials, leading to more active engagement with constitutionalism. But the concept of constitutionalism remained nebulous in China and there was limited knowledge about Europe’s history, culture, and contemporary conditions. Even leading reformers, such as Liang Qichao, had a superficial and somewhat misguided understanding of constitutionalism.

Since the Ming dynasty, the Chinese Empire had been closed off for centuries. The imperial court monopolized foreign trade and hindered intellectual exchanges. The Chinese people knew virtually nothing about the Western world. It was not until the eve of the First Opium War that a handful of Chinese officials and intellectuals became aware of the existence of a constitutional system.

From the eighteenth century, Britain expanded its trade globally, including with China. China’s isolationist economy, coupled with the court’s imposition of high import tariffs, resulted in a significant trade deficit for Britain. The high demand for opium among the Chinese people led to opium smuggling becoming a means for British companies to reverse the trade deficit. Large-scale opium smuggling caused the Qing dynasty to shift from a trade surplus to a deficit, with a severe outflow of silver. In 1838, the Qing government appointed Lin Zexu, the Viceroy of Huguang, as the Imperial Commissioner to ban opium in Guangdong (Guo, Reference Guo1979).

In the long-isolated empire, from the emperor to bureaucrats and scholars, all considered China as the center of the world and were completely oblivious to the sudden expansion of trade in the world, the establishment of constitutionalism in Britain, and the ensuing profound changes. To solve the opium issue and understand Britain, Lin Zexu organized the translation of foreign literature, which became the first written materials systematically introducing Western political institutions in China’s modern history.

The most influential work, Sizhou zhi (Records of the Four Continents), was an abridged translation of Hugh Murray’s An Encyclopaedia of Geography (1834). It was the first time that the Chinese became aware of the British Parliament, which was described as a system where significant state affairs “must be approved by the Parliament. If the king errs, the person responsible is penalized in Parliament.” Wei Yuan, a staff member of the Viceroy of the Liangjiang region, compiled Haiguo tuzhi (Illustrated Treatise on the Maritime Nations) based on Sizhou zhi. Published in 1842, it further described the power and operation of the parliamentary system in Europe and America and the limitations on the powers of the monarch and government. In 1848, Xu Jiyu, the Viceroy of the Min-Zhe region, published Yinghuan zhilüe (A Short Account of the Maritime Circuit), providing a clearer explanation of the constitutional systems in Britain, America, and Europe than Sizhou zhi and Haiguo tuzhi. He implicitly pointed out that the West’s superiority over China was due to its institutions, not merely its weapons and technology. However, Xu Jiyu was soon dismissed from his post for his political views and his book was banned (Drake, Reference Drake1990, pp. 3, 151). The deeper problem for China at the time was that there was no societal appetite for knowledge about constitutionalism and the volumes mentioned above did not have a significant impact until thirty or forty years later. In Japan, by contrast, the Sizhou zhi and Yinghuan zhilüe played a significant role in promoting the Meiji Restoration (Xu and Wang, Reference Xu and Wang2015, pp. 183–188).

The spread of constitutional ideas in China only began after Chinese society developed a need to engage with Western civilization. As the Chinese Empire controlled ideology and cultural exchange within society, changes in policies and knowledge exchange could only occur when there was an official demand. The primary interests of the imperial court were military technology, followed by engineering and science. It was not until much later that a handful of Chinese officials and intellectuals began to become aware of the institutions that underpinned these sciences and technologies.

As the Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864) came to an end, the insurgents were defeated by the superior Western weaponry and way of organizing the military. Recognizing the need for modernization, prominent figures such as Zeng Guofan, Li Hongzhang, and Zhang Zhidong championed the Self-Strengthening Movement (Yangwu yundong). This campaign aimed to systematically acquire Western technologies, especially those related to naval vessels and artillery, marking China’s first “opening-up” to the outside world after centuries of seclusion.

In 1866, the Qing Grand Council (Zongli Yamen) sent its first delegation to Europe and, by 1868, diplomatic missions had been established in Europe and America. From 1872 onwards, students were officially sponsored to study in the United States. These measures took place concurrently with similar initiatives by Japan’s Meiji government.

However, while the objective of the Meiji Restoration was to understand and assimilate Western institutions, the goal of China’s Western Affairs (Self-Strengthening) Movement was, as already noted, to assimilate Western technology while preserving China’s existing institutional framework.

Although the Qing authorities prohibited any discourse about institutions, asserting the official doctrine of “Chinese learning for essence, Western learning for application,” the boundaries of knowledge have always been challenging to define. The Self-Strengthening Movement employed numerous foreigners and set up various translation agencies. The Wanguo Gongbao (The Globe Magazine), established in 1868 originally called Jiaohui Xinbao (Church News) and renamed in 1874 under the editorship of the American missionary Young J. Allen, devoted substantial efforts to introducing Western constitutional governance and Japan’s constitutional reforms. This periodical became the most influential publication in China at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. When Kang Youwei established the Wanmu Caotang (The Thatched Hall of Ten Thousand Trees) in 1891 to propagate reformist ideas, he used the Wanguo gongbao as self-study material for his students (Xu and Wang, Reference Xu and Wang2015, p. 190).

However, due to China’s institutional genes, virtually no attention was given to checks and balances on power or to the protection of human and property rights. On the rare occasions that these issues were raised, such voices were swiftly silenced. Thus, until the mid-twentieth century, the majority of China’s intellectual elite lacked a comprehensive understanding of the essence of constitutionalism. Whether it was the Hundred Days’ Reform, the late Qing reforms or the Revolution of 1911, although the nominal objective was to establish some form of constitutional system, the actual impetus was towards strengthening the nation. Even the radical reformers and revolutionaries did not have constitutionalism or the protection of civil rights as their goal.

Arguably, the first Chinese who recognized the severe institutional problems confronting the Chinese Empire was Guo Songtao, the first Qing ambassador to the United Kingdom. Over twenty years before the Hundred Days’ Reform, he pointed out that “the reason for the West’s enduring prosperity is that the sovereign and the people are joint masters of national government” (Zhong, Reference Zhong1993, p. 179), whereas “China has been doing the opposite for more than two thousand years since the Qin-Han period” (Guo, Reference Guo1982, p. 373). He observed that “in establishing a nation, the West has a root and a branch. Their roots are in the governance of the state and the Church, and the branch lies in commerce and trade.” And he advocated “following the practice of Western governance” (Zhong, Reference Zhong1993, p. 212). In a letter to Li Hongzhang about establishing a shipyard, Guo Songtao remarked, “The benefits of steamships are universally acknowledged…. Whereas the obstruction came from the gentry ten years ago, the obstruction since then has come from the officialdom … did not allow the common people to invest and [to build shipyards].”¹

If Guo’s advocacy had been adopted by the Chinese authorities or accepted by Chinese society, China could have established constitutional rule around the same time as Japan. However, such political views were considered hostile and not tolerated by the Qing authorities. As a result, Guo was swiftly ordered to resign. His written work on constitutional systems, Shixi jicheng (Compilation of Timely Learning) was banned (Zhong, Reference Zhong1993, pp. 196–197). Thus, his influence was limited only to those with whom he had direct contact, the most important of whom was Yan Fu.

During Yan’s studies in England, he was in close communication with Guo. Discussing the vast disparity between Chinese and Western systems in terms of private property and individual rights, Yan Fu stated that in the West, “the people govern their own affairs essentially by themselves, without interference from the authorities” and that “there is a great difference between the East and the West in the basis on which the state and its citizens are governed … Chinese people do not have the slightest control over the state, nor the slightest rights that cannot be deprived.”²

Moreover, the leading advocates for reform during the same period as Guo Songtao were all focused on self-strengthening rather than addressing issues caused by the unchecked power inherent in the Chinese imperial system. For instance, Wang Tao, once highly regarded and influential to both Li Hongzhang and Sun Yat-sen, was one of the earliest proponents of constitutional monarchy. The constitutional monarchy he advocated was designed to foster “communication between the monarch and the people” and was seen as a means to achieve “wealth and power.”³ His work is aptly titled Reform and Self-Strengthening (Bianfa ziqiang). Similarly, Zheng Guanying, another influential advocate for constitutionalism, believed that constitutionalism was a tool for self-strengthening and winning the hearts of the people.⁴ These lines of thought, which stem from the institutional genes of the Chinese imperial system, found much wider acceptance and attracted much more followers in China.

The leading advocates and intellectual figures of the Hundred Days’ Reform movement, Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao, branded the reform as a movement towards constitutional monarchy. However, from the very beginning, it was merely a label, as the movement did not genuinely strive towards establishing constitutional rule. An Investigation into the Reforms of Confucius (Kongzi gaizhi kao), published by Kang a year before the reform, encapsulates his philosophical outlook and reform agenda. His theory is a blend of Confucianism, Buddhism,⁵ and what was then recognized as Western learning. Kang, not literate in any Western languages, referred to “Western learning” as including translated texts such as those previously mentioned, Haiguo tuzhi, Yinghuan zhilüe, and Wanguo gongbao and works by leading Chinese scholars who had returned from the West, such as Yan Fu, Wang Tao, and Zheng Guanying.

In his work, An Investigation into the Reforms of Confucius, Kang introduced his so-called “Three Ages” theory, claiming that human history must pass through three stages. He named the first stage the “Age of Disorder,” when monarchist rule is most appropriate. The second stage is the “Age of Transition,” in which a constitutional monarchy is most suitable. Kang believed that China was at this stage during his time. Ultimately, human history will reach the “Age of Great Harmony,” when a republican system should govern. Kang’s so-called “Great Harmony” refers to a global unification, an expansion of the concept of unified rule under the Chinese imperial system. He believed that achieving wealth and power were the primary political goals for China and reform was a means to reach those goals (Chang, Reference Chang2016).

The factors that triggered the Hundred Days’ Reform had nothing to do with any attempts to constrain imperial power. Moreover, during the Reform, there was no motive or social force advocating for the protection of individuals’ rights from imperial encroachment. On the contrary, the Reform was initiated to strengthen the empire.

In April 1895, the year following China’s defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War, when China and Japan were on the verge of signing the Treaty of Shimonoseki, Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao, along with over 1,300 imperial examination candidates from eighteen provinces, signed the Petition to the Throne (drafted by Kang), also known as the Gongche shangshu. This petition opposed the Treaty of Shimonoseki, proposed institutional reforms, and called for the establishment of a parliament through elections. Although this Petition to the Throne failed to be presented to the emperor, it was widely circulated among the examination candidates and literati.

A month later, another petition, The Memorial to the Emperor by Weng Dingxiang, again drafted by Kang Youwei, was presented to Emperor Guangxu. The emperor praised the petition and forwarded it to the provincial governors. This became the prelude to the Hundred Days’ Reform.

The campaign for institutional reform was initiated by Confucian scholars who had gathered for the imperial examinations (keju). These scholars, who were candidates in the millennium-old keju system, had been trained to think from the perspective of the imperial court and aspired to serve in it. They were encouraged to devote themselves to eradicating misgovernance and strive to improve imperial rule, at all costs, even their lives. However, notions of “individual rights” or “civil rights” were never part of their concerns, or even part of their consciousness.

In fact, the enthusiasm to petition for institutional reforms was sparked by China’s defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War and the consequent humiliation of the imperial court. The initiative was taken ultimately for the sake of the empire and the “nation.” The idea of constitutionalism was perceived as a tool for strengthening the empire rather than for safeguarding individual rights and constraining government power.

The plan and reality of the Hundred Days’ Reform aimed to restore the power of Emperor Guangxu and enable him to implement reforms. Although this de facto palace coup was under the guise of a constitutional monarchy, modeled on Japan’s Meiji Restoration, the essence was not to establish constitutional rule. The litany of proposed reforms submitted by Kang to the emperor through a series of petitions, beginning with the Gongche shangshu, did not at all involve limiting the power of the monarch, protecting human and property rights, or ensuring the rule of law. In reality, all the reform decrees issued during the Hundred Days’ Reform were confined to administrative reforms, with no mention of a constitutional monarchy or shared rule by the monarch and a parliament (Xu and Wang, Reference Xu and Wang2015, pp. 201–209).

In essence, the Hundred Days’ Reform was merely a power struggle. The conflicts between the so-called conservative and reform factions were intrinsically political factions and power struggles within the court and did not reflect fundamental societal interests. Without any independent social forces outside the court propelling the reform, even if Emperor Guangxu had triumphed in the power struggle and all the reform decrees issued during the Hundred Days’ Reform were implemented, it would not have been associated with the establishment of constitutional rule. Moreover, the self-interest of the emperor and the court would have dictated that in the future, they would neither voluntarily limit their own power nor actively establish a parliament that would curtail their authority. Thus, as a failed palace coup, the Hundred Days’ Reform was far less significant to China than the Constitutional Revolution of 1905 was to Russia.

9.2 Rival to Constitutionalism: Social Darwinism

Inspired by the Japanese Meiji Restoration and jolted by China’s defeat in the Sino-Japanese War, many Chinese intellectuals attempted to advocate for reform following the Japanese model of a constitutional monarchy, while others called for a Republican Revolution to establish constitutional rule. However, the fundamental principles and spirit of constitutionalism failed to gain a foothold in China due to the country’s lack of relevant institutional genes. This lack of grounding in the foundational principles of constitutionalism made it difficult for these reforms to truly take root and led to widespread criticism. Moreover, many competing ideas also arrived in China and many were better received by the Chinese populace. Together, the prevalence of these ideas and the resistance to constitutionalism from those ideas led to the abandonment of constitutionalism.

One of the leading competing ideas was Social Darwinism, a theory of social evolution. This idea was introduced to China almost at the same time as constitutionalism and immediately became a rival of constitutionalism, although many of its believers did not realize the conflicts between the two. Social Darwinism was highly compatible with a significant part of China’s institutional genes and social tradition. Thus, it was immediately endorsed enthusiastically by China’s intellectuals across the political spectrum without needing evidence or further elaboration. Many of China’s foremost constitutionalists, from the early Yan Fu and Liang Qichao to the later Hu Shih, failed to distinguish the fundamental differences between these different theories from the West and often were confused. They promoted both constitutionalism and social evolution, with the latter becoming far more popular and more deeply rooted in China than the former.

Principles such as historical determinism and the historical stage theory, as well as the ideology of survival of the fittest in Marxism, are so consistent with Social Darwinism that one could argue that Marxism essentially derived from Social Darwinism. Consequently, Marxism and Bolshevism, which came to China following Social Darwinism, found fertile ground among intellectuals already influenced by the theory of social evolution. The contrasting fortunes of constitutionalism and Social Darwinism in China were intimately linked to the subsequent rise of communist totalitarianism in the country.

From the outset, the “Western Learning” literature compiled by Chinese intellectuals at the end of the nineteenth century aimed to identify ways to strengthen and prosper the nation. Constitutionalism was viewed as one of the several means to achieve national prosperity, rather than to protect civil rights. As such, there was little interest in understanding the original driving forces and mechanisms of Western constitutionalism. Concurrent with the emergence of early literature introducing constitutionalism to the Chinese, such as the works of Wang Tao and Zheng Guanying, a series of periodical articles on Social Darwinism, Tianyan lun (天演论) (The Evolution of Nature) by Yan Fu, were published. These articles quickly exerted a significant influence on Chinese intellectuals, including constitutional reform leaders Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao. Moreover, the publication of these articles coincided with Kang’s drafting of his Kongzi gaizhi kao (孔子改制考) (An Investigation into the Reforms of Confucius) before he launched his reform efforts, thus directly influencing the formulation of his reform proposals.

Yan Fu’s Tianyan lun ostensibly was a Chinese translation of Thomas Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics (1893) but, in fact, it was partly Yan’s original work as it incorporated the views of Herbert Spencer, Huxley, and Yan Fu himself. Long before translating Evolution and Ethics, Yan was already familiar with the theory of social evolution, or Social Darwinism, established by Herbert Spencer. To promote Spencer’s theory, Yan chose Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics as the basis. Yan combined a translation of the first half of Huxley’s work with his own commentary and writing to present his thoughts on social evolutionism through critiquing Huxley.⁶ Whether or not Yan’s book is an accurate representation of Spencer’s theory is not our focus here, the point is its profound impact on Chinese understanding of constitutionalism and on the later communist revolution in China.

The widespread acceptance of Darwinism in China laid the groundwork for the eventual embrace of the subsequently arriving communist totalitarian ideology. The founders and leaders of the CCP, such as Li Dazhao, Chen Duxiu, Cai Hesen, and Mao Zedong, were all deeply influenced by Tianyan lun before embracing Marxism (Wang, Reference Wang2010, pp. 206–227). The variant of Marxism that many of them came to believe in was, in fact, heavily informed by Social Darwinism. This connection is not surprising, considering that Marx himself was influenced by Darwinism, including the theories of Huxley.⁷

It is no exaggeration to say that Yan Fu played a pivotal role in the widespread dissemination of both constitutionalist and social evolutionary theories in China. He was the most influential translator of constitutionalist works in early twentieth-century China. Notably, his translation of Montesquieu’s The Spirit of Laws, entitled Fayi lun, was among his most important works on constitutionalism. However, Yan firmly regarded constitutionalism as a tool of social evolution and a system for strengthening a nation. He neither believed in revolution nor the anti-constitutionalist ideas of Marxism. Yan devoted the latter part of his life to promoting constitutionalism. He played a crucial role in drafting the 1914 constitution, also known as the Law of the Republic of China (Zhonghua Minguo Yuefa), and supported Yuan Shikai’s constitutional monarchy. Yet, Yan’s work on constitutionalism was far less popular than his Tianyan lun, which gained him overnight fame in China.

Then the questions arise: Why has Tianyan lun retained its influence across nearly all political spectrums in China for over a century? Conversely, why has the notion of constitutionalism faced numerous obstacles in China? These phenomena depend both on the substantive content of the theories of social evolution and constitutionalism and on the institutional genes that determine the demand for these divergent ideologies among the Chinese populace.

The basis of social evolutionism, or Social Darwinism, was a philosophical concept created by Herbert Spencer during Darwin’s era, though it was not directly related to Darwin himself or the theory of evolution. The term “Social Darwinism” did not emerge until shortly before Darwin’s death. Inspired by Darwin’s On the Origin of Species (1859), Spencer invented the principle of “survival of the fittest” in an attempt to explain universal phenomena. In terms of society, Spencer considered the survival of the fittest, or the law of the jungle, as the fundamental cause and principle behind history. His theory, which failed to withstand scrutiny in the realm of natural science, quickly lost its academic influence. However, the part of his theory used to explain social phenomena gained popularity in the West during the late nineteenth century, also extending to Marx. The social evolution theory contains elements of strong racialism, which, though proven unscientific, once served as the theoretical basis for Fascism and Nazism. Conrad Bornhak, for example, whose views on social evolution were once celebrated by Liang Qichao, later drafted the content of the constitution for the Italian Fascists.⁸

The drive towards self-strengthening and national prosperity among Chinese scholars and officials in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries essentially stemmed from a wave of nationalism, partially inspired by Europe when nationalism was popular there. Anti-Manchu sentiment, which later became widespread, contained stronger elements of nationalism. Anti-Manchu sentiment was actually the most powerful propaganda agitation of the Revolution of 1911. In this context, the social evolution theory, with a racist interpretation of nationalism, had a significant impact upon its introduction to China. Although the majority of Chinese were unaware of terms like “Social evolution” and “Social Darwinism,” or even Yan Fu and Tianyan lun, the spirit of social evolution had been deeply ingrained in the minds of the Chinese people since the late Qing dynasty and most advocates of revolution agitated the masses by using Social Darwinist logic that would win strong reactions. Thus, Social Darwinism grew increasingly intense with each revolution.⁹

The spiritual leaders of Chinese constitutional reform were all enthusiastic followers of Social Darwinism. Kang Youwei hailed Tianyan lun as “foremost among works of Western learning in China” (Wang, Reference Wang1982). Liang Qichao played an even more critical role in promoting Social Darwinism. John Fairbank, a leading China expert, recognized Liang’s crucial role in spreading Social Darwinism in China, describing Liang’s influence as akin to Saint Paul’s role in spreading Christianity in Europe (Pusey, Reference Pusey2008, p. 84). Liang wrote, “competition for survival is the natural order of things. With competition, the superior will win, and the inferior will inevitably lose. This is an unavoidable rule since the beginning of life” (Liang Qichao, 1899). Hu Shih, one of the most influential liberals of the Republican era, not only studied Tianyan lun diligently from his early school years but even renamed himself “Shih,” meaning “fitness” in Chinese, in alignment with the principle of survival of the fittest. Upon maturing academically, Hu Shih regarded Yan Fu as “the first [in China] to introduce modern thought” (Wang, Reference Wang1982, p. 41).

The intellectuals represented by Yan Fu, Liang Qichao, and Hu Shih did not regard constitutionalism as a means to protect the basic rights of individuals. Instead, they saw constitutionalism as a tool necessary for the survival and evolution of the nation to the next stage. Consequently, even for them, constitutional theory held less importance than Social Darwinism expressed by Tianyan lun.

But what made Social Darwinism truly important in China is that it paved the way for the introduction of the Bolshevik revolutionary theory into China. Every founder of the CCP, without exception, was deeply influenced by Tianyan lun before learning Bolshevism from the Comintern. The most important among them, Chen Duxiu, had read the freshly published Tianyan lun since his high school years. He believed that biological evolutionism, human rights, and socialism were the three major characteristics of modern civilization. He saw everything within the trajectory of social evolution as a struggle for survival. Similarly, Li Dazhao regarded evolution as a universal principle and saw Marx’s “history of class struggle” as merely one stage of social evolution. Cai Hesen’s Shehui jinhua shi (History of Social Evolution) integrated Social Darwinism with Marxism. Cai’s good friend, Mao Zedong, was also deeply influenced by Tianyan lun (Wang, Reference Wang2010, pp. 206–212).

9.3 Failed Constitutional Reform and the Collapse OF THE Empire

The Hundred Days’ Reform was technically the first constitutional reform in Chinese history, yet only nominally so. The genuine inaugural attempt to establish a constitutional monarchy and assemble a parliament in China was embodied in the Xinzheng reforms (Late Qing New Policies). Like the Hundred Days’ Reform, which was instigated by the defeat in the Sino-Japanese War rather than by domestic challenges to the monopolistic power of the imperial system, the Xinzheng reforms were also spurred by significant external threats. Concurrently, violent revolutionary groups intent on overthrowing the imperial government were emerging. Despite many of these groups self-identifying as “constitutional republicans,” the majority possessed little understanding of, or interest in, constitutionalism.

9.4 Failure of the Republican Revolution (1911–1916)

Faced with the Xinhai Revolution and the proclamation of independence from most provinces, the Qing government appointed Yuan Shikai as the Imperial Envoy to lead the Beiyang New Army to quell the revolution. Hoping to temper anti-Manchu sentiments within the revolutionary forces, the National Assembly elected Yuan as the Prime Minister, directing him to form a cabinet primarily composed of Han Chinese.

While the Beiyang Army was significantly stronger than the Revolutionary Army on a military level, Yuan Shikai was not genuinely loyal to the Qing court. Leveraging his battlefield victories, Yuan pressured the revolutionaries to negotiate with him. Support for the Republic was widespread among the governors and many provincial parliamentarians viewed Yuan Shikai as the true powerholder and a crucial figure in the reforms. They were not only eager to negotiate with him but also hoped he could persuade the emperor to abdicate and even become the President of the ROC. Furthermore, Yuan also received backing from the foreign powers that supported the Republic (Hsu, Reference Hsu2001, p. 476).

On the other hand, despite most provinces having declared independence, the Revolutionary Army of the Tongmenghui remained too weak to overthrow the Qing court by force. Even worse, the military forces of most of these independent provinces had no affiliation with the Tongmenghui. Furthermore, the majority of the pro-republican political and military forces in most provinces preferred Yuan Shikai for the position of President. In light of this, on January 22, 1912, Sun Yat-sen, who had recently been elected provisional president, publicly declared that he would consent to Yuan Shikai’s presidency if Yuan supported the Republic and could persuade the Qing emperor to abdicate.

As most provinces had already broken away from the Qing, and the Qing court’s primary military power rested in the hands of Yuan Shikai, the court had no choice but to acquiesce to Yuan’s negotiation terms. On February 12, the court issued the abdication edict of Emperor Xuantong, effectively bringing the Chinese Empire to an end. On March 10, Yuan Shikai was inaugurated as the second provisional president of the ROC (a formal presidency would await official elections) and the provisional government relocated from Nanjing to Beijing, which had been the capital of the Qing Empire and also the power base of Yuan. However, the establishment of a new institutional framework depends on the presence of corresponding institutional genes within the society.

Whether a constitutional republic could arise in China following the demise of imperial rule was contingent on the existence and strength of pro-constitutionalist institutional genes in the country. However, the institutional genes dominant in the revolutionary party were not predominantly pro-constitutionalism. Most of the Tongmenghui’s members came from China’s secret societies, which followed traditional secretive rules and aimed at restoring the Han Chinese–dominated Ming dynasty rather than implementing a constitutional government. Only a handful of intellectuals within the party held a genuine interest in constitutionalism. Furthermore, the driving forces behind the provinces’ declarations of independence and the subsequent control of these provinces were primarily the New Army commanders-in-chief and Provincial Advisory Council deputies. In reality, the commanders-in-chief, who held actual power – military power – often used their influence to manipulate politics to their advantage, thereby making it difficult to establish a constitutional government. Although many parliamentarians were in favor of a constitutional system, they neither held nor represented the necessary power to bring such a system into existence.

The reason a system of self-restraint of power often fails is that it fundamentally contradicts the self-interests of those in power. In other words, it is incentive-incompatible with the power holders. For this reason, constitutional rule, which essentially represents a contract among various interest groups to limit each other’s power for mutual benefit, is more reliable. The more significant the power – such as that of the ruling party or government – the greater the need for checks and balances. Constitutionalism, therefore, can only be established through compromises among various groups, each wielding a degree of power, and by instituting a system of mutual checks and balances.

However, when revolutionaries from a secret organization seize power through violent means and declare their goal to be a republic, a question arises: Can such revolutionaries, even if they are sincere constitutionalists, establish constitutional rule by voluntarily restraining and relinquishing some of their hard-won power? Are they willing to negotiate a mutually binding agreement with diverse interest groups and power holders, thereby endorsing a system that curbs their own privileges? Logically, the answer is most likely no, as relinquishing their power is incentive-incompatible with their interests. Historical facts confirm this “theoretical prediction.”

At the outset of the ROC, the small minority genuinely advocating for constitutional government believed that constitutional rule could be realized merely through a written constitution devised by the social elite. However, this is merely a constitutional utopia, as a system that genuinely curbs governmental power can only materialize through compromises reached among powerful groups that represent diverse social interests during the constitution-making process. This is the only way to maintain checks on the political power of different groups and confine their conflicts within the constitutional framework.

Communist utopia leads to totalitarianism and constitutional utopia, while not as extreme, may also run counter to its promises. Having assumed power through force under the banner of establishing a constitutional republic, the Xinhai revolutionaries started to draft a constitution. However, this was primarily a monopolized nominal exercise, largely disconnected from the goal of instituting substantive constitutional rule.

The first two constitutions of the ROC, the Organizational Outline for the Provisional Government adopted on December 3, 1911, and the Provisional Constitution of the ROC adopted on March 8, 1912, were both products of the KMT-led Joint Conference of Representatives of the Southern Provincial Governorates and the Provisional Senate, respectively. In both cases, the essence was to consolidate and strengthen the KMT’s power within the new regime.

The Organizational Outline was a rushed job, hastily drafted and approved in just a few days. With Sun Yat-sen’s provisional presidency already secured, the provisional constitution was designed without providing for checks and balances on the presidential or national assembly powers. Echoing this, Sun made no mention of democratic government or checks on power when he was inaugurated, announcing instead that the five guiding principles for his administration were to be national, territorial, military, domestic political, and financial unity.

In today’s world, almost every nation has a constitution. However, only a few of these constitutions truly serve to balance government power and political forces. Whether a constitution functions in such a role depends primarily on how it was crafted. Only when the major societal forces engage in constitution-making, where the ensuing compromises transform into a contract, that is to say, a constitution, can the process succeed. Conversely, the constitution-making process at the start of the ROC was characterized by the exact opposite, as the KMT made no effort to involve major societal forces in the negotiations. By dominating the constitutional process, the KMT aimed to monopolize power and use the constitution as its own tool. Rival political forces, power groups, or interest groups were wholly excluded from the process. This exclusion was exemplified by the KMT’s treatment of the Beiyang military and political forces represented by Yuan Shikai. The revolutionaries sought Yuan’s help to peacefully end the imperial system while simultaneously excluding him from the constitution-making process. Consequently, the negotiations between Sun Yat-sen, Huang Xing, Li Yuanhong, and Yuan Shikai were nothing more than exchanges of political deals on relatively minor issues following the collapse of the Qing dynasty, rather than substantive negotiations on the nation’s constitutional framework. Their actions resembled spot trading on the market rather than negotiating a long-term contract among the parties.

The KMT’s exploitation of the constitution-making process to strengthen the party’s power is best illustrated by how it altered the first two provisional constitutions. The Organizational Outline, the first provisional constitution enacted before Sun’s assumption of the provisional presidency, established an American-style presidential system that maximized the powers of the president. However, a mere three months later, it was revised just before the promised transfer of the presidency to Yuan Shikai, who had succeeded in persuading the Qing Emperor to abdicate. On March 8, the Provisional Senate replaced the Organizational Outline with the Provisional Constitution of the ROC, marking a shift to a French-style cabinet system designed to limit presidential powers.

The divisions within the KMT regarding the principles of constitution-making are noteworthy. A faction represented by Sun Yat-sen, had initially advocated for an American-style presidential system, while another faction, represented by Song Jiaoren, favored a European-style cabinet system. Although Sun’s faction initially prevailed, Song made it clear that the political motivation behind the constitutional amendment was to resist Yuan Shikai. It was for this reason that the provisional constitution was revised. Not surprisingly, when a constitution is crafted by a single political party, it tends to become a tool for that party and it is disconnected from true constitutionalism.

Without establishing firm constitutional rule, the nascent constitutional government of China eventually collapsed due to a series of devastating blows. The first came from the so-called “Second Revolution” launched by the very initiators of constitutional government in China, the KMT. This was followed by Yuan Shikai’s unsuccessful attempt to restore imperial rule. Lastly, the Northern Expedition, a military campaign conducted by the KMT and the CCP, with planning and support from Soviet generals and military aid, dealt the final blow.

Sun’s “Second Revolution” was deeply rooted in the absence of a belief in constitutional principles among the republican revolutionary leaders and most of the other key participants in the new regime, despite superficially appearing to be triggered by various incidents. In March 1913, the KMT won a significant victory in the National Assembly elections. Song Jiaoren, the party’s leader, was expected to form a cabinet and become the ROC’s first premier, but he was assassinated before he could be inaugurated. Convinced that Yuan Shikai was involved in the assassination, despite a lack of evidence, Sun Yat-sen was determined to stage an armed coup to overthrow the fledgling republic. However, Huang Xing and other KMT leaders believed that the assassination of Song should be addressed through the Republic’s judicial system rather than through an armed uprising.

The KMT-dominated National Assembly believed that Yuan, grappling with fiscal challenges, had infringed upon the constitution by directly borrowing from a consortium of foreign banks, bypassing consultation with the Assembly. The KMT faction opposing a “Second Revolution” contended that the party, given its dominance in the Assembly, should confront Yuan through parliamentary means. In contrast, Sun’s faction argued that the president’s unconstitutional foreign borrowing was in itself a legitimate justification for a “Second Revolution.”

Persisting with practices he had adopted before the Xinhai Revolution, Sun, since the commencement of the “Second Revolution,” was dedicated to liaising with secret societies, forming an underground political party, and instigating armed uprisings to topple the ROC. In 1914, he established the Chinese Revolutionary Party (CRP), which was patterned after traditional Chinese secret societies. Each individual who joined the party had to make a vow to “willingly sacrifice life and freedom to obey Mr. Sun, and readily accept death as the penalty for disloyalty” (Zou, Reference Zou2011, p. 159). A key figure in the KMT, Huang Xing, who had been an ally of Sun since the Tongmenghui era, strongly disagreed with Sun. He argued that clandestine organizations founded on personal loyalty sharply contradicted the basic principles of the Republican Revolution. However, Sun contended, “There is no mentor of the revolution other than me … Many of you have limited knowledge and experience, so you should obey me unconditionally” (Ju, Reference Ju1954, pp. 81–82).

In addition to the “Second Revolution,” the founding principles of Sun’s new party, the CRP, further revealed Sun’s beliefs. The CRP was organized much like a traditional secret society, and its objectives resembled those of a typical peasant rebellion: to seize power and rule the nation. The party’s charter declared that non-members would not be citizens until a “constitution” was ratified. Meanwhile, its members were categorized into three tiers according to the sequence in which they joined the revolution. Founding Citizens, in the first tier, had the privilege of participating in politics. Associate members, known as Meritorious Citizens, were part of the second tier and had the right to vote and run for elections. The third tier consisted of ordinary party members who only had the right to vote. Non-party members were not allowed to vote.

Even though the impact of the CRP was limited, it encapsulated the institutional genes of rebel factions under the Chinese imperial regime. These were strikingly similar to some of the institutional genes of the Bolsheviks. This similarity laid the foundation for the subsequent reorganization of the KMT along Bolshevik lines and the success of the Comintern in establishing the CCP.

China’s institutional genes rendered the establishment of a constitutional government in China difficult, even following the demise of the imperial system and the ostensible creation of a republic, parliament, and constitution. Observers at the time, especially from the United States, commented that a wholesale transplantation of the American system to China would be untenable, “[Establishing] in China in 1911 an imitation of the American republic … was a fiasco because it had no roots in Chinese history, traditions, political experience, institutions, instincts, beliefs, attitudes, or habits” (Peffer, Reference Peffer1958).

Both constitutional advisors to the ROC and Yuan Shikai, Professor Frank Goodnow (1859–1939) at Columbia University and Japanese jurist Nagao Ariga (1860–1921), noted significant challenges that China faced in its attempt to establish a constitutional government. They observed that China’s elites lacked a fundamental understanding of law and, more importantly, the principles of constitutionalism. Consequently, they were highly skeptical about the prospects for a constitutional republic in China.

According to Ariga, “The ROC was founded not purely due to the public will but came into existence because the Qing emperor ceded the right to rule … as it was initiated first by the Wuhan uprising and only became fully established once the former Qing emperor had ceded power.” The national law of the ROC was, therefore, different from the law in a republic established out of the public will (Nagao, Reference Nagao2019, pp. 79–81). Ariga published “Gonghe xianfa chijiu ce” (“Sustainable Policy on the Constitution of the Republic”) in the newspaper Shun pao, on October 30 and 31, 1913, opposing the cabinet-system constitution, which had been drafted by the KMT-dominated National Assembly. Instead, he advocated for a constitutional establishment of a centralized presidential system (Shang, Reference Shang2013).

Goodnow held a view similar to Ariga regarding the ROC’s presidential system. However, both failed to fully recognize the brutal, autocratic aspect of the imperial legacy that post-empire China had inherited. By the end of 1913, Yuan Shikai had declared the KMT illegal and banned it, alleging that it had initiated a “Second Revolution” and conspired to launch a military coup. While declaring the KMT illegal arguably might have been legitimate given the allegations, Yuan’s subsequent actions made it clear that he was trying to dismantle all restrictions on his power that had been imposed by the newly established constitutional rules.

In 1914, he dissolved assemblies at all levels and legally imposed press censorship. The government then took control of the Chambers of Commerce, the post office, the railways, and so on, and suppressed dissidents with impunity. The Western press of the time reported that Yuan’s reckless dictatorial actions had decimated popular support for him (Fairbank and Feuerwerker, Reference Fairbank and Feuerwerker1994, part 1, chapter 4).

Around that time, the reformed Senate adopted a “Constitutional Compact” to replace the Provisional Constitution that had been previously instituted by the KMT-dominated National Assembly. Several articles regarding the centralization of presidential powers were drafted by Goodnow. Later, Goodnow wrote to the president of Columbia University, Nicholas Butler, acknowledging that this constitution afforded Yuan too much power. However, he conceded that in the end, the Chinese would do no better than the constitution they had adopted because constitutionalism was not their tradition and they had neither a concept of the rule of law nor an organizational body worthy of being called a court (Kroncke, Reference Kroncke2012).

Goodnow, as revealed by his defending words years later, was perhaps confused between his academic research and his role as an advisor, and was also confused between taking Yuan as an object of research and Yuan as the provisional president of the ROC with an ambition of becoming an emperor. Without comprehending the danger of fueling political chaos by revealing the truth to the wrong person, in a memorandum written to Yuan Shikai in 1915, Goodnow stated that China was not ready for a republican system and that a monarchy was more suitable. He wrote,

Goodnow went on to argue that the Republican Revolution in China had already failed. Ariga had similar views, albeit not as systematically articulated. One year before Goodnow, Yan Fu had published similar views. In his criticism of the republican system, Yan Fu also conflated Locke and Rousseau and criticized them (Wang, Reference Wang1976, pp. 92–93).

Indeed, Yuan and his followers quickly exploited Goodnow’s position for dismantling the constitutional rules. Yang Du,¹² a pro-monarchy advocate who claimed to be Yuan’s imperial mentor, used Goodnow’s memorandum to advocate for the restoration of the monarchy, even though Goodnow insisted that his memorandum was merely a discussion of principles and was not intended to alter the political system (Kroncke, Reference Kroncke2012).

Only a few days after Goodnow’s memorandum was published, Yang Du sought out Yan Fu. On the surface, the meeting was to discuss Goodnow’s views on republicanism but Yang’s real motive was to seek Yan Fu’s support for his monarchist initiative.¹³ Yang said, “I am establishing a society with my comrades, to be named the Chouan hui (Society for Peace), devoted to exploring whether our country is more suited to being a monarchy than a republic. Goodnow has made a start, and we will strive to take up the task” (Schwartz, Reference Schwartz2010, p. 153).

Yuan Shikai and his followers might not have been sufficiently powerful to bring about the changes they desired. However, both the KMT and the constitutionalists unintentionally aided Yuan. The KMT’s “Second Revolution” was largely seen by constitutionalists as a threat to the newly established republic. Notable figures, including Liang Qichao, Cai E, and Tang Jiyao, not only strongly endorsed the suppression of the “Second Revolution” but, in response, they also supported centralization in the name of the republic. Cai E and Tang Jiyao even participated directly in the military suppression of the revolution.

The constitutionalists’ support for centralization provided Yuan with an excellent opportunity to weaken the emerging institutional genes of constitutionalism. Yuan ruthlessly suppressed dissent and forced Premier Xiong Xiling, the honorary director of the Progressive Party (which had been co-founded by Liang Qichao), to resign.

The institutional genes of the old regime laid the foundation for a new wave of anti-constitutionalism under the ROC. Power-holders in the provinces declared themselves subordinate to the central authority. This, combined with the publication of Goodnow’s memorandum, led to a public outcry supporting the idea that constitutionalism was unsuitable for China. Under these conditions, the vigorous push by the Chouan hui to restore the monarchy proved effective.

On October 6, 1915, the Senate received eighty-three petitions from provincial delegates advocating a shift to a constitutional monarchy. Later, on December 11, under a new law drafted by the Senate, nearly 2,000 elected deputies unanimously agreed to change the state system to a constitutional monarchy and to rename the country the Empire of China.

While constitutionalism did not take deep roots in China, it is clear that a significant portion of Chinese elites had a desire to abandon the imperial system. The move to restore a monarchy, particularly with Yuan Shikai at the helm, was widely regarded as illegitimate. Yuan Shikai’s proclamation to change the national designation immediately sparked fierce opposition and armed resistance from constitutionalists such as Liang Qichao, Cai E, and Tang Jiyao. Yunnan Province declared independence from the empire and the National Protection Army was established,¹⁴ triggering armed uprisings in multiple provinces.

Yuan’s restoration also encountered covert resistance from his long-time loyalists. Notably, Feng Guozhang, the general who played a key role in quelling the “Second Revolution” and who became the new Chief of Staff after Yuan’s self-coronation, secretly reached out to generals from four provinces in 1916. Together, they issued a clandestine telegram to all provincial generals, soliciting opinions on the possibility of revoking the monarchy (Tian, Reference Tian1999, p. 123).

Foreign powers such as Japan, Britain, and the United States also refused to recognize the restored empire. Under intensified domestic and international pressure, Yuan was compelled to abolish the monarchy and reinstate the republic. However, the ROC was in a state of turmoil. The country was fragmented into several separate military-controlled regions: the south controlled by the Yunnan army, the lower reaches of the Yangtze under Feng Guozhang, the northern areas controlled by the Beiyang government, and the northeast under Zhang Zuolin (Fairbank and Feuerwerker, Reference Fairbank and Feuerwerker1994, part 1, chapter 4). Thereafter, the ROC was in fact ruled by a coalition of regional warlords and the constitutional rules were only partially implemented. But this was soon swept away by the KMT’s Northern Expedition, which was planned and supported by Soviet forces (to be described in detail in Chapter 10).

9.5 Revolutionary Parties: The Institutional Genes of the “Secret Societies”

No new system, constitutional or totalitarian, can be instituted without the support of the relevant institutional genes already in that society, regardless of how much effort the advocates expend. Only when the gap between the existing institutional genes of a society and the desirable institutional genes of the system to be established is not too wide can it yield the results anticipated by the reformers or revolutionaries.

Indeed, one of the institutional genes that led to the rise of the Bolsheviks was the tradition of secret political organizations that were prevalent in Tsarist Russia. Correspondingly, a similar institutional gene existed in the Chinese imperial system in the form of secret societies. It was this particular institutional gene that played a significant role in the birth of the Tongmenghui-KMT. Most importantly, this gene was one of the key factors that facilitated the Comintern to create the CCP, enabling it to establish a foothold and subsequently thrive in China.¹⁵

Under the Chinese imperial system, clandestine organizations were the only bodies left that were conducting organized activities, since no open, organized, independent social forces were permitted.¹⁶ Even clan groups could face prohibition if they grew too large or spread across regions, especially if they posed a threat to the authorities. This strict control made clandestine organizations essential for maintaining parts of the societal structure and channeling certain social forces in China.

Secret societies with political and power ambitions had been part of Chinese history since at least the Song dynasty (920–1279).¹⁷ Among these, the White Lotus Society (Bailian jiao) is particularly noteworthy. It emerged towards the end of the Yuan dynasty, a period during which the Rus’ region (the predecessor to Russia) was still under the control of the Mongol Empire’s Golden Horde. More than a religious body, the White Lotus Society was a secret political organization, although its religious background can be traced back to the White Lotus sects (Bailian she) and other Buddhist religious sects, such as Maitreya, established as early as the early fifth century (Yang, Reference Yang2004; Haar, Reference Haar1992; and Qin and Tan, Reference Qin and Tan2002, vol. 2, pp. 43–46). Seen as heretical by the court, these sects were driven underground, eventually becoming the forerunners to other covert sects that surfaced during the Ming and Qing dynasties (Qin and Tan, Reference Qin and Tan2002, vol. 1, pp. 14–27). It was the Red Turban rebellion, primarily led by the White Lotus, that ultimately precipitated the downfall of the Yuan dynasty and the ascendance of the Ming dynasty.

Zhu Yuanzhang, who ascended to become the first emperor of the Ming dynasty, was propelled into power by the Red Turban Rebellion (Qin and Tan, Reference Qin and Tan2002, vol. 2, pp. 56–69). Having first-hand knowledge of the potential threat such societies posed to the regime, the Ming dynasty outlawed the White Lotus, among other groups, deeming them heretical. According to Ming laws, participation in those organizations was punishable by death, irrespective of one’s social status. The early Ming period witnessed a particularly brutal suppression of the White Lotus, with Emperor Yongle’s reign (r. 1402–1424) seeing tens of thousands of nuns across multiple provinces arrested and many killed to capture a single female leader of the White Lotus (Qin and Tan, Reference Qin and Tan2002, vol. 2, pp. 81–82).

During the Qing dynasty, there was a rapid proliferation of secret societies. In addition to traditional Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist sects, covert Christian groups like the Society of God Worshippers began to appear. The Qianlong period (1735–1796) saw a surge in the development of secret societies across the country. Archival records suggest that the majority of these societies’ members were without property and unemployed. Although these societies often presented themselves under the guise of religion, most, including their leaders, possessed little religious knowledge or beliefs.

In the absence of religious grounding, secret societies often forged connections through sworn brotherhood, solidified by blood rituals and oaths of mutual allegiance. The act of making and upholding such oaths effectively bound members into a familial network. For instance, all members of the Tiandihui (Heaven and Earth Society) adopted the surname Hong, referring to each other as “Hong family brothers.” The rule was “no withdrawal after joining,” with severe punishments, including torture, for any breach of this stipulation.¹⁸

The evolution of secret societies in China led to the establishment of relatively stable traditions, both organizationally and ideologically. These traditions subsequently laid the groundwork for the Comintern to found a Communist totalitarian party in China, effectively becoming part of its institutional genes. Many of these secret societies championed causes like the abolition of private land ownership and the promotion of absolute egalitarianism. For example, the Longhua Sect in Zhejiang Province adhered to the principle that “land should be communal property … so that everyone can live in peace and have enough to eat” (Hirayama, Reference Hirayama2017).

Many of these societies were essentially semi-permanent bandit gangs and armies, primarily engaged in banditry and smuggling. The Jintian district of Guangxi, for instance, was already “riddled with thieves” by the mid-nineteenth century. They pledged loyalty to clan chapters, with some chapters comprising “as many as three to four thousand members, totaling more than ten thousand … dedicated to pillage, ransom, and extortion.”

In the 1840s, Zhang Jiaxiang’s Yiyi tang (Joyous Righteousness Gang) in Guangxi became known for “killing officials and sparing the people, robbing the rich and aiding the poor,” attracting thousands of followers. These conditions set the stage for the Taiping Rebellion, which resulted in over 70 million fatalities within just a decade, making it the deadliest civil war in human history.

The Taiping Rebellion severely rattled the Qing Empire across its social, economic, and military sectors, marking the beginning of the end for China’s longest-standing empire. Beyond the immense destruction and loss of life, the Taiping Rebellion had a profound historical impact.

First, the Taiping army substantially challenged the traditional Qing forces by extensively utilizing foreign weapons. As a result, Qing commanders such as Li Hongzhang increasingly relied on these foreign arms to suppress the rebellion. This shift directly prompted the Western Affairs Movement (or the Self-Strengthening Movement), the first significant reform of the late Qing era, which lasted for several decades. Many historians see the Taiping Rebellion as marking the beginning of modern Chinese history (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, p. 257).

Second, and perhaps more significantly, the Taiping Rebellion laid the groundwork for the violent revolution that eventually toppled the Qing Empire. Hong Xiuquan, the leader of the Taiping Rebellion, later became a revolutionary icon for Sun Yat-sen, Mao Zedong, and other leaders of the Chinese Communist Party.

The Taiping Rebellion, with its reliance on Christianity to stir up revolt and provide legitimacy, hinted at the nascent signs of what would later become the Chinese Communist movement. Hong Xiuquan was originally a Confucian scholar. Like many of his contemporaries, he initially dedicated himself to his studies and aspired to attain official status. However, after failing his third provincial examination, Hong found solace in a pamphlet narrating the story of Christ. Consequently, he claimed to have converted to Christianity and to have received a divine calling. He even referred to himself as the son of God Jehovah and the brother of Jesus.

Several years later, he studied the Bible with an American Baptist missionary named Issachar Roberts. However, Roberts did not endorse Hong’s interpretation of biblical scripture, let alone acknowledge his self-proclaimed divine status, and therefore refused to baptize him (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, pp. 260–264). Roberts later worked for a time in the Taiping government and, based on his experience, believed that Hong Xiuquan’s version of Christianity was not true Christianity.

Hong claimed to have been granted a divine mission to instigate both spiritual and secular revolutions and convert all Chinese to Christianity. He joined forces with Feng Yunshan, a masterful organizer, to establish a militarized sect named the “God-Worshipping Society” in the Hakka areas of Guangxi, where militia groups were well developed. The version of Christianity propagated by this clandestine organization, known as Hong Xiuquan’s Christianity, introduced unprecedented new ideologies to the locals. Yet, its organizational structure bore a striking resemblance to that of the Triad Society, one of the largest secret societies in China. In 1851, Hong established the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom in Jintian, Guangxi Province. During its expansionary campaigns, the Taiping army integrated many Triad groups into its ranks (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, pp. 263–267).

After conquering the southern part of the empire, in 1853 Taiping rebels established their capital in a major southern city, Nanjing (renamed as Heavenly Capital). Thereafter, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom developed a comprehensive military bureaucracy. Parts of this bureaucratic hierarchy and functional structure were derived from Zhou li (Rites of Zhou). As the head of state, Hong styled himself as the Heavenly King, naming four others as kings of the North, South, East, and West. The most influential figure under Hong was Yang Xiuqing, the King of the East, who also served as the supreme commander of the army. Key strategic orders were often given by Yang in the form of séances to convey God’s intentions. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom issued a series of proclamations declaring its intention to establish a heavenly kingdom on earth, with some elements drawn from the Bible. Hong Xiuquan was portrayed as a dynastic founder chosen by divine mandate, while the Manchus were depicted as incarnations of the devil. The ideological basis for the Taipings was a mixture of Christianity, traditional Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, and anti-Manchu nationalism (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, pp. 268–269).

Hong’s doctrine was rooted in Christian terminology, interwoven with phrases and passages from Liji (Book of Rites) about “Great harmonization” and “commonwealth of the whole world.” He claimed that once everyone followed God, “the world will be one, and there will be peace for all” (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, p. 270). Although viewed as heretical from both Catholic and Protestant perspectives, Hong, like Thomas Müntzer who instigated the German Peasants’ War in the name of Protestantism, and the Anabaptist Communist regime of Münster (see Chapter 6), drew on the most enticing common ideals and incendiary components of Christianity. These convinced the destitute masses to commit violent acts in the pursuit of a communal heavenly kingdom and to behave recklessly in their quest for absolute equality.

However, violence is never compatible with democracy or equality. Utopian regimes established through violence always depend on an extraordinary concentration of political, military, and economic power. The highly centralized structures determine that those being ruled lose not only control over public affairs but also their basic rights, including the most basic economic rights. Thus, even if the original intention of the initial unleashing of violence to achieve utopia is to achieve equality, its actual operation is strictly hierarchical. Such strict hierarchy naturally contravenes the concept of equality. This pattern was evident in the Münster regime in the Middle Ages, the Jacobin regime at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and the Soviet regime at the start of the twentieth century. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was no exception.

The Taiping Rebellion, serving as a precursor to later communist revolutions, demonstrated that the institutional genes of China’s old regime bore a striking resemblance to the institutional genes necessary for fostering communist totalitarian institutions. Under the highly appealing principle of great harmonization, the “Land Ownership System of the Heavenly Kingdom” instituted state ownership of land and state control of labor and deemed the produce of the land as state property. Farmland was allocated to all based on absolute egalitarian principles. All consumption was limited to basic survival needs in an absolutely equal manner, with all excess surrendered to the state treasury. For a time, gender segregation was enforced and even married couples were not allowed to have sexual relations to eliminate family units (Fairbank, Reference Fairbank1985, part 1, p. 271). However, the leaders themselves were ennobled and enjoyed luxuries beyond those of emperors, demonstrating that from the leaders’ perspective, absolute equality served more as a slogan for driving revolution, rather than a real concern in practice.

The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom not only inherited the institutional genes of secret societies such as the Triads but also those of imperial rule. Before his assassination, Yang Xiuqing, King of the East, who effectively governed the Taiping, organized his government in the traditional imperial administrative structure of Six Ministries. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom also introduced a keju system that largely mimicked practices from past dynasties, with the main difference being the addition of Christian content.

In the name of pursuing equality, the Taiping Rebellion, which evolved from secret societies and drew heavily on Christianity, implemented a state-controlled land system that ensured absolute egalitarianism, a variant of Christian communism. This secular, caesaropapist regime was extraordinarily brutal, sharing many similarities with the Christian communist regime of Münster in the Middle Ages. It was thereby a totalitarian regime in embryonic form. Its rule was strictly enforced, with draconian punishments for any violations of the “Heavenly Laws” (the laws of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom).

In the name of equality, the regime denied human and property rights more than the traditional imperial system did. As such, power was more concentrated. Under near-totalitarian rule without checks and balances, everyone’s fate was determined by those wielding supreme authority. Moreover, senior officials like Yang Xiuqing well understood Hong Xiuquan’s legitimacy stemmed from his self-proclaimed divine right, which led to a relentless power struggle among the top leaders. Having taken over half of the Qing Empire, the top echelons of the Taiping had become embroiled in power infighting, slaughtering thousands of their own brothers and eventually crumbling under both internal and external pressure. Historian Cao Shuji estimated that the Taiping Rebellion resulted in as many as 73.3 million deaths in the seven provinces of the central war zone alone (Cao, Reference Cao2001, vol. 5, p. 553). This bloodiest rebellion inspired Chinese revolutionary leaders, Sun and Mao, in the twentieth century.

Sun Yat-sen’s revolution, while ostensibly a Republican Revolution, was more akin to the Taiping Rebellion in its early stages. It was a nationalist uprising under the slogan “Expel the Tartars, revive China.” Besides nationalism, Sun advocated for state and communal ownership of land (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol. 6, p. 56). Indeed, Sun regarded a “glorious history of our national revolution” (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol. 1, p. 217) and claimed himself to be the second Hong Xiuquan (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol 1, p. 583). Also similar to the Taiping Rebellion, the revolutionary organization they established and the armed uprising they launched in the name of the Republican Revolution were based on and intimately related to secret societies. These secret societies, many of which comprised bandits, had nothing to do with constitutionalism. Most of their members were the proletariat, more interested in seizing land from wealthy landlords than in protecting private property. Therefore, from the outset, even if Tongmenghui’s so-called Republican Revolution had settled into a stable regime, it was not destined to produce a constitutional system protecting human and property rights.

Founded in Tokyo in 1905, Tongmenghui was a union of various secret societies that advocated for the violent overthrow of the Manchu Qing government, including Sun Yat-sen’s Xingzhonghui (Revive China Society), Huang Xing’s Huaxinghui (Chinese Revival Society), and Cai Yuanpei and Tao Chengzhang’s Guangfuhui (Restoration Society). Each of these covert organizations was deeply connected to larger secret societies within China, with many local branches even being founded on the structures of long-standing secret societies. The Xingzhonghui had close ties with the Gelaohui (Brotherhood Society) and the Sanhehui (Triad Society) and the Huaxinghui was linked with the Gelaohui and the Hongjiang Society, while the majority of the Guangfuhui were secret societies from Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces.

The Republican Revolution in China was, to a large degree, grounded in China’s prevalent secret societies. These societies had expanded in both size and influence towards the end of the nineteenth century, developing increasingly rigid organizational structures and complex codes of conduct. Tao Chengzhang, co-founder of the Guangfuhui, thus also a co-founder of the Tongmenghui and the KMT, devoted most of his revolutionary efforts to liaising with these secret societies, becoming an expert in this field.¹⁹

Tao asserted that, “China has two major clandestine groups, strong enough to influence the nation … One is the White Lotus, or the Red Turbans. The other is the Tiandihui, or the Hong Fraternity … the Triad Society, the Brotherhood Society and various other societies are all spinoffs of Tiandihui” (Tao, [Reference Tao1928] 2020).

There was no clear boundary between the religious sects and secular secret societies. For instance, the Dadaohui (Big Swords Society), which ignited the Boxer Rebellion, was an offshoot of the White Lotus. Both the Taiping Rebellion and the Boxer Rebellion emerged from existing secret societies (Chesneaux, Reference Chesneaux1972; Shao et al., Reference Shao1993) and the impact of these rebellions, in turn, reinforced the tradition of secret societies. This tradition formed the social foundation for the establishment of the Tongmenghui and served as an institutional gene for the emergence of the CCP.

Sun Yat-sen’s views on a revolutionary party bear similarities to those of Lenin. This resemblance illustrates more than just personal beliefs; it showcases shared institutional genetics. Both figures clearly distinguished between revolutionary parties and political parties, emphasizing the secret society characteristics of the former. Sun contended that “it is necessary to take risks, shed blood and sacrifice lives and property to achieve the success of the revolution. This is the mission of a revolutionary party” (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol. 3, p. 35).

Sun saw a revolutionary party as an instrument to overthrow the government using violence, whereas a political party was a tool of governance. He stated, “The purpose of a political party is to consolidate the country, that is, to represent the people’s wishes, to solidify the country and bring about social peace” (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol. 2, p. 469). Consequently, he intended to establish a political party after the formation of the Republic (Sun, Reference Sun1981, vol. 3, p. 4).

To harness the power of the secret societies, Sun personally joined the Zhigongtang of the Hong Fraternity and was conferred the high-ranking title of Hong Baton. Upon the establishment of the Xingzhonghui in Honolulu, a substantial number of its founders were either members or affiliated with secret societies. In its headquarters in Hong Kong, approximately 30 percent of its members came from secret societies.

In order to make the Tongmenghui a unified front against the Qing, its charter specified, “All societies with similar objectives and willing to ally with the Tongmenghui should be recognized as members of the Tongmenghui.” The handful of uprisings that the Tongmenghui provoked between 1907 and 1908 were largely led by secret societies (Xiao and Tan, Reference Xiao and Tan2007).

The Xinhai Revolution of 1911, while seemingly organized under the guise of a republic, primarily conveyed its objectives through nationalist slogans such as “expel the Tartars.” Given that members of secret societies formed the backbone of the revolution, and these societies were committed to “opposing the Qing and restoring the Ming dynasty,” the primary objective of the key forces within the Tongmenghui was to return imperial power to the Han Chinese, about which they knew almost nothing.

The Second Guangzhou Uprising, which occurred in April 1911, offers a particularly illuminating example of the primary revolutionary force within the Tongmenghui. The original plan was to rely on support from the New Army. However, when this proved impractical, the decision was made to lean on the core strength of the Tongmenghui. The uprising ultimately failed and of the 72 individuals killed in action, 68 were members of the Hong Fraternity. This reflects the significant role the Hong Fraternity, a traditional secret society, played within the Tongmenghui.

Sun Yat-sen harnessed the influence of secret societies in establishing both the Xingzhonghui and the Tongmenghui and his original vision for the revolution was to “start by advancing the secret societies” (Xiao and Tan, Reference Xiao and Tan2007). Indeed, at that time, all groups that advocated violent revolution were reliant on secret societies. Inheriting the institutional gene of secret societies, these revolutionary organizations operated in ways that were characteristic of secret societies, which fundamentally contradicted constitutional principles.

The assassination of Tao Chengzhang, a founding leader of the Tongmenghui, by Chiang Kai-shek, serves as a quintessential example of the behavior of the Tongmenghui-KMT. Tao founded the Guangfuhui in 1904 with the aim of “restoring the Han nation and recovering the homeland.” The society was spearheaded by Cai Yuanpei, who served as chairman, alongside Zhang Taiyan, Xu Xilin, Qiu Jin, and Tao, all famous revolutionary figures in Chinese history. One of Tao’s primary duties was to liaise with secret societies in the Jiangsu–Zhejiang region to prepare for the overthrow of the Manchu regime. After the Tongmenghui-KMT was established, the Guangfuhui was integrated into it as one of its founding organizations.

In 1907, a disagreement over funding within the Tongmenghui triggered a split between Tao and Sun Yat-sen. As a result, Tao restructured the Guangfuhui. In collaboration with the Hong Fraternity and other secret societies in the five southeastern provinces, Tao established the secretive Revolutionary Alliance. The alliance sought to overthrow the Qing dynasty through assassination and rebellion and aimed to establish an empire as magnificent as the Ming and Tang dynasties, under the principle of equal land rights.

Subsequently, Tao accused Sun Yat-sen of misappropriating public funds and called for his dismissal as premier. Tao’s close collaboration with secret societies across various provinces on military and social control matters, as well as his reputation in Zhejiang, made Sun and his supporters view Tao as a significant threat to their authority within the revolutionary forces.

After the Wuchang uprising in 1911 and the liberation of Hangzhou, Tao was elected president of the Interim Senate in Zhejiang, a stronghold of republican revolutionary forces. In 1912, Chen Qimei, one of Sun’s allies, instructed his subordinate Chiang Kai-shek to assassinate Tao. In his diary entry on July 26, 1943, Chiang noted that the assassination of Tao “was the responsibility of me alone” and that “this matter was never mentioned between me and the premier” (Yang, Reference Yang2017). Chiang later stated that it was from the assassination of Tao that he earned the trust of Sun (Chiang, Reference Chiang2016).

Drawing upon the institutional genes of secret societies, the Tongmenghui-KMT ostensibly launched a Republican Revolution. Nevertheless, the predominant ethos throughout the organization, from top to bottom, favored violence and a desire for a monopoly on power, with constitutionalism resonating only among a minority.

Whenever the KMT’s authority was significantly threatened, an armed uprising seemed almost inevitable, irrespective of whether incidents such as the assassination of Song Jiaoren had occurred. It was therefore no accident that the KMT launched a “Second Revolution.” However, the “Second Revolution” bolstered Yuan Shikai with strong support from constitutionalists, allowing him to centralize power and prepare for the restoration of the imperial system. This dealt a fatal blow to the ideal of realizing a constitutional republic in China.

Only advanced for a few years, the constitutional reform of the Qing Empire was overtaken by a Republican Revolution led by the Tongmenghui-KMT amidst popular protests triggered by the full-scale encroachment of imperial power on civil rights. The new Republic, in turn, was soon largely buried by the KMT and Yuan Shikai with the “Second Revolution,” restoration of the imperial system, and the KMT Northern Expedition.

These unfortunate developments, and the institutional genes behind them, paved the way for communist totalitarianism to influence China, take its roots, and proliferate in the country.