The Spiritualism Debate and the Reconstruction of Epistemic Order: Revisiting Spirit-Writing Practices and Scientific Discourse During the New Culture Movement

Abstract

Established in 1917, the Spiritual Society (Lingxuehui 灵学会) centered its activities on spirit-writing (fuji 扶乩), constructing a sacred discourse through the Spiritual Chronicles (Lingxue Congzhi 灵学丛志) that blended Confucian ethics, Buddhist–Daoist notions of reincarnation and karmic causality, and the terminologies of modern science. This synthesis aimed to restore moral order and epistemic legitimacy amid intense social upheaval. Beginning in 1918, however, New Youth—the flagship journal of the New Culture Movement—launched sustained critiques against Spiritualism (Lingxue 灵学). Moving beyond a historical narrative, this article draws on Weber, Foucault, and Abbott to analyze this confrontation as a contest for exclusive jurisdiction over “explaining the world” and “healing society.” New Culture intellectuals labeled fuji as “superstition” through the lenses of scientism and psychology, linking it to imperial residues and anti-modern ideologies. Scientific discourse, by deploying the label of “superstition”, secured epistemological orthodoxy and systematically marginalized indigenous spiritual traditions. The confrontation between the “divinity–medium–text” structure and the modern logic of “science–rationality–nation” reveals a deeper struggle over knowledge boundaries and legitimacy, while also illuminating the tensions and negotiations that shaped China’s trajectory toward modernity.

1. Introduction

During the first half of the twentieth century, China underwent a profound restructuring of its culture and knowledge systems. Following the launch of the New Culture Movement, the banners of “Science” and “Democracy” were raised high, and scientific discourse, posturing as “axiom”, reshaped the standards of legitimacy for the entire cultural conceptual system. A fascinating paradox emerged: as the torrent of industrialization swept through and the ideology of “Scientism” spread—defined by D.W.Y. Kwok (Guo Yingyi 郭颖颐) as the belief that “all aspects of the universe are knowable through the scientific method” (Kwok 1989, p. 1), and referred to by Zhang Xushan (张绪山) as “scientific belief” (Zhang 2009, p. 84)—traditional systems faced collapse. The Confucian dimension of “existential relevance” (qieji 切己) and “reverence for the classics” (zongjing 宗经) disintegrated, and the Buddhist ideal of “transforming consciousness into wisdom” was methodologically silenced, suspended as a “non-scientific” Other. Yet, precisely at this moment, emerging folk religious groups sprang up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.

As the French Sinologist Vincent Goossaert (Gao Wansang 高万桑) noted: “In February 1919, three months before the outbreak of the May Fourth Movement, Guanyin possessed a 12-year-old barbarian girl, revealing a scripture about how accumulated human sins would invite catastrophe… Guanyin compiled this scripture, titled Cihang Baoxun (慈航宝训, Precious Instructions of the Vessel of Mercy), to move and transform the people, stating that only by practicing good deeds could one become a chosen person. This is the standard narrative of eschatological catastrophe” (Goossaert 2020, p. 315).

This event embodies the typical “Eschatology–Salvation” narrative mode in Chinese religion: revealing catastrophes (such as war and plague) caused by human sin through divine revelation (spirit possession), emphasizing moral practice (good deeds) as a condition for salvation, and constructing the ethical identity of the “chosen ones”. Such narratives had already formed a fixed paradigm in Ming and Qing folk religions. The famous late Qing redemptive society, the “Way of Pervading Unity” (Tongshanshe 同善社), propagated the “Unity of the Three Teachings” (Sanjiao Heyi 三教合一) specifically within this narrative tradition of “harvesting the round at the final kalpa” (mojie shouyuan 末劫收圆), using these concepts to cohere its followers. In the writings of Chai E (柴萼), there is an amusing account of a Tongshanshe spirit-writing altar where figures as diverse as Confucius, Jesus Christ, Napoleon, and Tolstoy descended to convey messages (Xu 2011, p. 83). Even as late as 31 October 1921, Shen Bao (申报) published a cartoon by the famous Shanghai journalist Wang Yingbin (汪英宾) satirizing the Tongshanshe. The image depicted “Relics of the Old, Young, and Small” kneeling before a statue of Confucius labeled “Three Teachings, One Source”, while the caption “Demons of a Lost Nation” (Wangguo Yaonie 亡国妖孽) loomed large—a clear indication of the intellectual hostility toward such groups.

In essence, various spirit-writing (fuji 扶乩) practices were continuations of traditional religious knowledge production mechanisms. Through the tripartite structure of “Deity–Medium–Text” (Shen–Mei–Wen 神—媒—文), they endowed scriptures with sacred authority. This stood in sharp opposition to the rapidly rising paradigm of scientific positivism; thus, ridicule from the intelligentsia was inevitable. However, compared to the Ming and Qing dynasties, early Republican spirit-writing presented a more organized, textualized, and bureaucratic face. This was especially true of the Spiritual Society (Lingxuehui 灵学会), founded in Shanghai in 1917 by Yu Fu (俞复), Lu Feikui (陆费逵), Ding Fubao (丁福保), and other intellectual elites with the aim of “enlightening spirituality and researching principles” (Lingxuehui Jianzhang 1918, p. 162). Its main altar was dedicated to Mencius, supported by Zhuangzi and Mozi, and it established a complex bureaucratic hierarchy of “four departments and sixteen offices” to manage its affairs (X. Yang 1918, p. 24). To enhance credibility, the Spiritual Society claimed to communicate only with “noble souls” from ancient and modern times, both Chinese and foreign.

The flourishing of religious societies represented by the Spiritual Society during the New Culture Movement had a dual purpose: on the one hand, amid the influx of European influence and the prevalence of the theory of “survival of the fittest”, it attempted to “improve morality” and save culture; on the other hand, it was a response to the crisis of the times in the name of “saving the world from catastrophe” (jiujie 救劫). The spirit-writing of the Spiritual Society, as the core tool of “Spiritualism to Save the Nation” (Lingxue Jiuguo 灵学救国), transcended the category of scattered traditional divination. The Shengde Altar (盛德坛), which presided over the rites, established comprehensive rules and a professional system for spirit-writers (jishou 乩手). In January 1918, the Society launched the Spiritual Chronicles (Lingxue Congzhi 灵学丛志), publishing 18 issues covering literature, records, miscellanies, and doctrinal treatises. The Society’s leadership included famous publishers, Buddhist experts, and celebrities, and it adopted a paid membership system targeting the elite class. Its supporters even included authoritative scholars like Yan Fu (严复) and the President of the Republic of China, Li Yuanhong (黎元洪). It should be noted that the term “Spiritualism” is used in this article to translate the Chinese term Lingxue. Emerging in the early 20th century under the influence of Japanese Reigaku and Western Psychical Research, this term represented an attempt to legitimize traditional beliefs through scientific discourse. We adopt the translation “Spiritualism”—rather than “Psychical Research”—to emphasize that, unlike a purely experimental inquiry, Lingxue in this context functioned as a religious salvation movement centered on spirit-writing (fuji) and moral reconstruction. Thus, the term refers specifically to the syncretic practices and discourses in Republican China. While it shares certain phenomenal similarities with the 19th-century Western Spiritualist movement (Oppenheim 1985), it possesses distinct cultural roots and doctrinal contexts involving Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, and should be distinguished from the specific Western religious movement known as Modern Spiritualism.

However, since the rise of the Spiritual Society was synchronous with the New Culture Movement, this “eschatological warning” could hardly escape the criticism of the progressive intellectual world. Scholars such as Chen Duxiu (陈独秀), Lu Xun (鲁迅), Liu Wendian (刘文典), Yi Baisha (易白沙), Liu Bannong (刘半农), and Chen Daqi (陈大齐) used New Youth (Xin Qingnian 新青年) as their battleground, writing numerous critical articles. Some denounced the spiritualists as “monsters”, while others attempted to deconstruct the mechanisms of Spiritualism from the perspective of parapsychology. Paradoxically, the Spiritual Society’s institutionalization implicitly imitated scientific rationality; its packaging of spirit-writing was precisely an attempt to legitimize itself by borrowing “Science”. This resonates with Hu Shih’s (胡适) observation: “For the past thirty years, there is one noun in China that has achieved a position of supreme dignity… That noun is ‘Science’… no one who claims to be a new figure dares to openly slander ‘Science’” (Hu 2003, p. 196).

Looking back at the academic history of spirit-writing research, one can see the contributions of brilliant pioneers. Early studies by Chen Daqi, Huang Yi (黄翼), and Xu Dishan (许地山) focused mostly on the “distinction between truth and falsehood”, aiming to dispel the mystery of spirit-writing from the perspectives of experimental psychology or history. Following the introduction of social history and anthropological methods, scholars began to break through the “Science vs. Superstition” binary framework, focusing on the functions of spirit-writing as “cultural performance”. Notable works include Dao Miao Luan Tong by Yau Chi-on (游子安) and Shiga Ichiko (志贺市子) (Yau and Shiga 2021), and Text and Context in the Modern History of Chinese Religions edited by Philip Clart, David Ownby, and Wang Chien-chuan (Clart et al. 2020). Additionally, scholars like Richard J. Smith (Smith 1986) and Wang Jianchuan (J. Wang 2013) have conducted in-depth investigations into spirit-writing and prophetic activities. Wu (1981), Li (2008), Yue (2020), and Huang (2012) have specifically examined Spiritualism during the New Culture Movement.

Building upon these foundations, this article focuses on how the Spiritual Society responded to the crisis of epistemic order through textualized practices and reshaped its own legitimacy while in conflict with scientific discourse. Centering on the debate between the Spiritual Society and New Youth from 1917 to the 1920s, this paper explores the power discipline and discursive negotiation faced by spiritual traditions during the transition to modernity. The paper proceeds in three parts: first, it reviews the knowledge production and spirit-writing practices of the Spiritual Society, analyzing how it synthesized the Three Teachings and modern science to construct sacred legitimacy; second, it examines the critique of Spiritualism by New Youth, analyzing how the label of “superstition” operated within the context of scientism; third, it traces the general attitude of New Culture intellectuals toward Daoism and spiritual traditions, revealing how spiritual traditions were shaped as the “Other” of knowledge in the narrative of modernity. Methodologically, this article adopts a historical textual analysis approach, closely examining primary sources such as Spiritual Chronicles and New Youth.

This article contends that the triumph of scientific discourse was not a historical inevitability, but rather the outcome of successful jurisdictional claims. We interpret the conflict between the Spiritual Society and New Youth as a contest for exclusive jurisdiction over “explaining the world” and “healing society.” Theoretically, we integrate Weber, Foucault, and Abbott to analyze this struggle. We argue that the collapse of the imperial order created a “vacant jurisdiction” (Abbott 1988) over moral truth. The Spiritual Society attempted to fill this void through a strategy of “mimetic isomorphism” (DiMaggio and Powell 1983). Specifically, they sought to validate substantive ethical truths through the formal rationality of modern science (Weber 1978), an approach that proved internally contradictory. Ultimately, New Culture intellectuals deployed “boundary-work” (Gieryn 1983) to enforce a Foucaultian “regime of truth” (Foucault 1980), thereby defining the professional boundaries of legitimate knowledge. In this view, the Spiritual Society represents not merely a superstitious residue but an early exploration of the possibilities of “multiple modernities” during the early Republican era.

2. The Knowledge Project of the Spiritual Society: Confucian Fragments and Sacred Reconstruction

The Spiritual Society was not merely a faith group; it was a knowledge construction organization that used spirit-writing as a means and the Spiritual Chronicles as a platform to respond to the crisis of modernity. By producing mediumistic texts and integrating traditional resources from Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, it dedicated itself to rebuilding the ethical order, constituting a “knowledge project” at the intersection of modern religion and academia. Since its establishment in Shanghai in 1917, it attracted the interest of numerous upper-class intellectuals. The establishment of the Shengde Altar (盛德坛) was led by Yang Guangxi (杨光熙) of the Chung Hwa Book Company. According to the Origins of the Shengde Altar (Shengde Tan Yuanqi 盛德坛缘起), Yang originally had little interest in spirit-writing but changed his stance after personally receiving a prescription through the planchette that saved people during a plague. He was adept at using supernatural events for religious propagation, such as the dramatic punitive event of “offering tea turning into filthy water” (gongcha huishui 供茶秽水), which reinforced the religious disciplinary mechanism for believers. This demonstrates his deep understanding of mass psychology and his skill in constructing typical “miracle” narratives of “violation–retribution–conversion”, showing a clear awareness of modern communication.

The Spiritual Society was not satisfied with the mere expression of mystical experiences; it sought to institutionalize and ritualize spirit-writing, attempting to endow it with epistemic and ethical legitimacy through the construction of “sacred space”. It hoped that the audience would contact supernatural forces to “verify the truth of ghosts and spirits and investigate the mysteries of creation” (X. Yang 1918, p. 24). The spirit-writer—such as Yang Guangxi’s son, Yang Xuan (杨璿)—acted as a medium, transmitting “divine oracles” through writing or symbols, which was essentially a concretization of “hierophany”. Borrowing Mircea Eliade’s research on Shamanism, religious rituals often re-establish the connection between the secular world and the sacred by reenacting sacred events (Eliade 2024). Spirit-writing is similar; through repeated spirit-descending rituals, it transforms secular time into sacred time, enhancing the believers’ perception of the “presence of ghosts and spirits”. As Lu Feikui stated in the Origins of the Spiritual Chronicles: “To realize the essence of spirituality, to understand the axioms of the Three Teachings, to perceive that there is the joy of the soul beyond our life, and to disregard all gains, losses, rise and fall, success and failure in the human world. In this state, one does not know how to intentionally do good, so how could one intentionally do evil?” and “The clarity of Heavenly Principles is inspected by ghosts and spirits. The root of human life lies in the destination of the soul; what comes after death is of higher importance” (F. Lu 1918, pp. 18–19).

The Spiritual Society emphasized the indestructibility of the soul (“All living things have a body and a spirit. The soul is the subject of the spirit. When the soul and body unite, there is life; when they separate, there is death. That which remains unchanged after death is called a ghost or spirit” (Lingxue congzhi fakan ci 1918, p. 20)) and karmic reincarnation (“When a person dies and becomes a ghost, they have form and substance. Although not visible to human eyes, animals can see them. Just as humans are ruled by the soul, so are ghosts” (Ding 1918, pp. 54–55)). This is a reenactment of the myth of the “Eternal Return” in religion (Eliade 2018). This concept holds that the world cycles in fixed periods, and life, history, and all things in the universe repeat in some way. The Spiritual Society preached that the soul survives through kalpas (aeons) precisely to integrate individual life into a cyclical structure that transcends linear time.

It can be said that Spiritualism was both a continuation of the traditional “theory of the indestructibility of the spirit” and a response to the “vacuum of meaning” under the impact of modern concepts dominated by “natural selection” and the “law of the jungle” which looked down upon tradition. Interestingly, among the celebrities who supported the Spiritual Society was Yan Fu, who sought to awaken the people with the theory of evolution. This was certainly related to Yan’s own interest in destiny (mingli 命理), his belief in the existence of souls, and his philosophy that “religions past and present are beneficial because they contain truth, but are harmful only because they still contain falsehoods” (Yan 1986, p. 1016). However, it may have been more related to Yan’s later stance: abandoning the previous theory of “liberty as the essence, democracy as the application”, returning to the way of Confucius and Mencius, and even advocating the restoration of the monarchy. The “spirit of ghosts and spirits” of Spiritualism was later fiercely attacked by New Culture intellectuals precisely because it might summon the soul of the imperial system. It is conceivable that the Shengde Altar’s advocacy—“Taking ‘Shengde’ (Abundant Virtue) as the substance, rectifying oneself with ancient sages as the appearance, pointing the way and breaking delusion as the aim, and using daily renewal, clarifying education, researching academics, and developing spirituality as the principle” (Shengde Tan Tangui 1918, p. 154)—was favored by Yan Fu precisely because it could supplement the missing ethical dimension of modern Confucianism and rebuild moral order.

To some extent, the traditional mode of “speaking on behalf of Heaven” (dai tian liyan 代天立言), reproduced by the Spiritual Society through spirit-writing, can be seen as a hybrid of the Confucian mandate of Heaven and folk religion. Since Dong Zhongshu (董仲舒) constructed the system of “interaction between Heaven and humanity” (tianren ganying 天人感应), rulers have always monopolized the interpretation of the “Dao of Heaven”, binding political authority with cosmic order. When this traditional politico-religious system, carried by mystical narratives, encountered the impact of Western positivist knowledge systems and the concept of nation-state sovereignty, its explanatory efficacy declined sharply. After the end of the Qing Dynasty, Confucianism’s “universal values” were forced to downgrade to a “national cultural heritage”, and the transcendent dimension of “Confucianism as a religion” was irreversibly dissolved. China fell into a vacuum of “political theology” (Ottmann 1990). The attempt by Yuan Shikai (袁世凯) to issue a mandate honoring Confucius (Second Historical Archives of China 1991, p. 1) and to rebuild the authority of the Dao through ritualized manipulation only confirmed that the traditional mechanism for reproducing ideology had indeed failed.

Fundamentally, Confucianism’s secular ethical orientation, which rejects transcendent salvation, makes it a secular philosophy. As Max Weber pointed out in The Religion of China: “In China—as in almost all heat-bound societies—the hope for a ‘Messiah’ falls upon the ‘Son of Heaven’ of this world, not on the hope for an absolute Utopia—as in Israel” (Weber 1999, p. 196). That is to say, the Confucian “Heaven” is not a personified God but a symbol of cosmic order; the ultimate pursuit of “Unity of Heaven and Humanity” is actually the sanctification of realistic ethical relations. This “immanent transcendence” made Confucianism naturally lack the ecclesial organization and eschatological narrative of institutionalized religions; its survival relied heavily on the structural support of the imperial examination system and patriarchal society. But in the 20th century, when the imperial system collapsed and the patriarchal clan system disintegrated, the institutional carrier of Confucianism dissolved. Its conservative logic that “tools may change, but the Dao remains constant” (Zheng 2013, p. 240) faced the full impact of modern transformation and inevitably fell into a dilemma of fragmentation. Relying on the hegemony network constructed by examinations, village compacts, and ancestral halls, imperial Confucianism was further downgraded from “state philosophy” to a collection of cultural symbols, attaching itself to philosophy and religion—especially redemptive religious groups—under the influence of events like the abolition of scripture reading and the New Culture Movement’s slogan “Down with the Confucian Shop”.

When Confucianism lost its institutional protection and became parasitic on redemptive groups, it is understandable that its ethical concepts such as filial piety, benevolence, and righteousness were transformed into “moral capital”. The “Altar Teachings” of the Spiritual Society stated: “Benevolence is to be kind to things, with compassion as the priority. Righteousness is to harmonize affairs, distinguishing shame and evil. Ritual is to discipline oneself, with yielding as the head” (Shengde Tan Tangui 1918, p. 154). This is clearly a direct elaboration of the cultivation theories of “cautiousness in solitude” (shendu 慎独) and “self-restraint” (keji 克己) of Confucius and Mencius. Interestingly, as a (quasi-)religious group, the Spiritual Society did not attempt to implement discipline by internalizing Confucian moral laws, nor did it specifically construct a Charisma authority figure. Instead, it strove to offer an ideal plan for the salvation of the world and the human heart. Deeply feeling that scientific power was overly developed to the point of eroding the realm of “seeing, hearing, awareness, and knowing”, and that the theory of evolution under Social Darwinism was linked with power politics—“Humans are divided into existence and extinction by strength and weakness, thus the theory of good and evil is broken” (Lingxue yaozhi zaixu 1922, p. 7)—they used Spiritualism to supplement the deficiencies of science. They published theories on “spirit-descending”, “hypnosis”, “telepathy”, “Spiritualism”, and “clairvoyance”, and “proclaimed theories of ghosts and spirits, soul studies, and scriptures on spiritual techniques and destiny” (G. Yang 1918, p. 23), hoping to achieve the goal of “Spiritualism to Save the Nation”: “If the theory of ghosts and spirits does not spread, the fate of the nation will be shortened” (Yu 1918, p. 87).

It should be said that the Spiritual Society possessed a rather universalist color. Later, the Beijing Shengping Dao Society (北京升平道社) and members of the Tongshanshe, who launched the Journal of Spiritualism (Lingxue Yaozhi) in September 1920, had the ambition to supplement the deficiencies of the world with Spiritualism and have everyone in the world learn it: “The so-called spirit is the spirit possessed by everyone; the so-called learning is the learning that everyone should fulfill. Only then can we hope that this spirit and this learning will pervade the world, shine through the past and present, and know no bounds” (Lingxue yaozhi zaixu 1922, p. 8). On the other hand, the Spiritual Society bound individual moral improvement with the narrative of national salvation, thereby constructing a new type of sacred community.

Besides Yan Fu, many in the intellectual world had positive contact with the Spiritual Society. Origins of the Shengde Altar records: “Those who asked questions included Mr. Lufei asking about ghosts, spirits, planets, and religions; Mr. Ding Zhonghu [Ding Fubao] asking about the theory of the indestructibility of the soul; Mr. Wu Zhihui (吴稚晖) asking about phonology; Mr. Xiao Senhua (萧森华) asking about Yi numerology, as well as interpreting confusion and elucidating academic principles” (G. Yang 1918, p. 23). Indeed, the prevalence of spirit-writing among the intelligentsia in modern times was directly related to the fact that it was not limited to oral transmission and that the gentry class had a tradition of revering written paper. From another angle, the confluence of “wandering soul” Confucian fragments and (quasi-)religious salvation was also more acceptable to scholars with conservative cultural tendencies. When moral ontology shifted to soul ontology, and “Heavenly Principle” was replaced by “soul destination”, Confucian classics, Buddhist reincarnation, and folk beliefs were cast into “Principles of Spiritualism” (Lingxue Yuanlun 灵学原论) (Liu 1922, pp. 80–83). The spirit-writer’s status of “receiving the mandate” continued the Confucian role of “speaking on behalf of the sages”. It seems that Confucianism, having lost institutional shelter, still maintained the survival of its cultural genes by attaching itself to religion and reorganizing ideological resources.

With scientific discourse blotting out the sky, the Spiritual Society also strove to maintain its “scientific” image as a whole. In their articles, they frequently used modern scientific terms to explain supernatural phenomena, such as borrowing concepts of electromagnetic waves or mechanics to analogize the mechanism of ghost activities. They advocated for some systematic recording and experimental improvement of the spirit-writing process to make it conform more to the standards of rational verification (such as stipulating procedures, timing, and recording methods during spirit-writing, and even inviting skeptics to observe on-site). However, at the same time, under the great wave where “all under heaven is in precarious danger” and culture risked rupture, the Spiritual Society still attempted to endow the chaotic world with moral order through concepts like the inspection of ghosts and spirits and karmic reincarnation. They used the theory of the indestructibility of the soul to dissolve death anxiety and respond to individual inquiries about the ultimate meaning of life and used spirit-writing to fit the traditional faith logic of “divine revelation of scriptures”, while satisfying the writing needs of the intellectual class. All these made Spiritualism indeed a temporary consolation for scholars (with conservative tendencies). For instance, as the translator of Tianyan Lun (Evolution and Ethics), Yan Fu advocated evolution on the one hand and recorded divination experiences on the other, showing that some enlightened intellectuals were still wavering between science and faith.

Reviewing the resurgence of spirit-writing in the early Republic, we see that against the background of scientism sweeping through traditional culture in the name of “rational enlightenment” and the marginalization of Confucian ethics, spirit-writing—as a knowledge production mechanism with a “Deity–Medium–Text” structure—reactivated the faith structure and value system rejected by rationalism in an ironic way. It not only replicated the traditional mode of “speaking on behalf of Heaven” in form but also substantively constructed an alternative mechanism for “the reproduction of ethical legitimacy”: embedding Confucian ethical fragments (loyalty, filial piety, chastity, righteousness) into sacred narratives, reactivating the transcendent order within the Confucian–Daoist–Buddhist system, and forming a “Sacred–Rational” dual-track legitimacy system together with spiritualist channeling practices. In this sense, spirit-writing was not merely a cultural residue or a resurgence of superstition, but an active intervention of traditional ethical fragments in the construction of modern order during the cultural transition. It constructed a mechanism for rebuilding ethical order in response to crises through sacred spaces manifested by rituals, knowledge orders revealed by texts, and transcendent narratives of soul salvation. What it tore open was precisely a rift of hybrid modernity outside the binary opposition of “Reason vs. Faith”. Yan Fu was both an enlightener and a waverer in this rift. This tension may be the historical key for us to re-understand “how spirit-writing was possible”.

However, this syncretic construction of sacred order provoked strong resistance from the intellectual group represented by New Youth—the demarcation between science and superstition subsequently became the focal point of public opinion.

3. The Name of “Superstition”: The Struggle for the Positioning of Spiritualism Within Scientific Discourse

As an important public opinion stronghold of the New Culture Movement, New Youth magazine launched a fierce critique against the rising Spiritual Society and the fever for spirit-writing. The incident originated in 1918, when the Spiritual Chronicles published the “Spirit Photography of Mr. Xu Banhou” (Xu Banhou Xiansheng Linghun Sheying 徐班侯先生灵魂摄影), claiming that a gentleman who had been dead for several months had “appeared” in a photograph (Xu Banhou xiansheng linghun sheying 1918, p. 14). This caused an uproar in Shanghai. This attempt to prove the existence of ghosts using new technology (photography) was naturally viewed by the New Culture camp as deceptive and delusive talk. New Youth immediately published a series of articles concentrating their fire on “Spirit Photography” and the “Spiritualism” it represented. New Culture leaders such as Chen Duxiu, Chen Daqi, Qian Xuantong (钱玄同), and Liu Bannong (刘半农) wrote articles denouncing the spiritualists as “monsters”. It can be said that just as the ideology of scientism was in the ascendant, this debate pushed the opposition and entanglement between “Science” and “Superstition” to the forefront of the public sphere—one side raised the banner of “Mr. Science” (Sai Xiansheng) to denounce all supernatural phenomena as “superstition”; the other side, also comprising intellectual elites, advocated studying ghosts and spirit-writing in a “scientific” manner, hoping to endow traditional mediumistic practices with the legitimacy of modern knowledge.

The critique of Spiritualism and spirit-writing by New Youth was quite direct: it used modern scientific principles and empirical rationality as the yardstick to question and deny the possibility of supernatural phenomena one by one. The leader of this charge was Chen Duxiu, who published Yougui Lun Zhiyi (Questioning the Theory of Ghosts 有鬼论质疑) in New Youth, Volume 4, Issue 5. Chen began by pointing out that the theory of ghosts and spirits had flourished in China since ancient times, dominating the minds of the people so deeply that even in an age of rising science, scholars still cited European theories of the “soul” to support the existence of ghosts, engaging in “pages of ghost talk”, claiming to have personally seen ghosts, or even displaying “ghost photos”. Deeply astonished, he resolved to use scientific rationality to challenge the “Theory of Ghosts”. Rational questioning permeated the structure of Chen’s article. He adopted a method of logical interrogation, raising eight “insoluble” questions to refute the arguments for the indestructibility of the soul and the existence of ghosts. Broadly speaking, his questions can be grouped into three categories: (1) Conflict between sensory experience and material reality: if a ghost can be perceived, it should possess materiality; otherwise, it is an illusion, not an entity. (2) Paradox of cultural imagination and universality: the images of ghosts are highly anthropomorphic and cultural, reflecting the projection of human experience rather than transcendent existence. (3) Scientific verification and logical consistency: if ghosts are indeed spiritual bodies, why can they not be verified by modern technology? The fact that they have appearance and clothing but no substance constitutes a self-contradiction (Duxiu Chen 1918, pp. 46–47).

Through these layers of interrogation, Chen Duxiu dismantled the logical foundation of the existence of ghosts in a manner akin to deductive reasoning, highlighting the causality and empirical evidence emphasized by modern science. He sharply mocked those who promoted the supernatural by “taking photos of ghosts to show people”. Echoing Chen Duxiu, the psychologist Chen Daqi, who had returned from Japan, published Pi “Lingxue” (Refuting “Spiritualism” 辟“灵学”) in New Youth. Chen Daqi labeled the content of the first issue of Spiritual Chronicles as “absurd and bizarre”, asserting that setting up altars for spirit-writing to communicate with ghosts and spirits was either “deceitful” or “foolish”. He aimed to “explain spirit-writing through scientific understanding to reveal its falsity” (Daqi Chen 1918, p. 7). Starting from perspectives such as psychological suggestion, hallucinations, and the subconscious, and citing examples of hysteria and thought reading, he interpreted the descending pen of the “Planchette Immortal” (Jixian 乩仙) as the unconscious muscular action of the spirit-writer—a product of the participants’ psychological processes—thus scientifically attributing it to human mental phenomena rather than real supernatural communication.

The internal logic of Chen Daqi’s argument is clear: first, he established an epistemological standard based on materiality and perceptibility, presupposing that only material entities confirmed by sensory experience are real; second, he used the perspective of cultural relativism to reveal the social construction of concepts of ghosts and spirits; finally, he used scientific “testability” as the ultimate adjudicator, questioning why ghosts could not be captured by modern instruments. This series of interrogations imposed the “axioms” of science—materiality, universality, and falsifiability—upon his opponents, forcing them to answer within a rule system dominated by scientific discourse. In this way, Chen demonstrated the “proper” mode of thinking for a modern intellectual, aiming to demarcate the boundaries of knowledge and exclude Spiritualism, which could not be incorporated into his rational framework, from the field of legitimate knowledge.

In the context of national salvation, although the Spiritual Society bound spirit-writing to the narrative of saving the nation, the authors of New Youth viewed spirit-writing as a “superstitious” activity that risked “national extinction” (wangguo 亡国): “If the gentlemen of the Spiritual Society could reflect a little, stop promoting evil theories to bewitch the youth, and stop destroying science to plant the roots of national extinction, then my hopes would not be in vain” (Daqi Chen 1918, p. 8). “Since ancient times, many clans have perished due to a firm belief in ghosts and spirits; never has it been heard that they could save a nation” (B. Yi 1918, p. 31). They also employed sharp satire and moral arguments to damage the reputation of the Spiritual Society. Qian Xuantong and Liu Bannong wrote articles in the magazine, using scathing language to denounce the spiritualists as frauds acting in the name of science. For instance, Qian and Liu co-authored Sui Gan Lu (Random Thoughts 随感录) No. 8, directly calling the promoters of Spiritualism “heretics bewitching the masses” or suffering from “abnormal psychology”. They traced the history: “The so-called Daoism since the Han and Jin dynasties is actually the evolution of the thought of ‘genital worship’ from ancient barbaric times. For two thousand years, the people’s wisdom has declined and morality has decayed… most people’s psychology does not go beyond the scope of Daoism, which is a major cause” (Qian and Liu 1918, pp. 106–7).

Lu Xun, with his characteristic satirical tone, dismissed spirit-writing and talismans as absurd “ghost scribbles” (guihuafu 鬼画符) (X. Lu 1919, p. 86), listing them alongside itinerant martial arts as farces not worth a laugh. He criticized “Spiritualism to Save the Nation”: “A group of the Spiritualism school, for some reason, developed extremely ancient thoughts, wanting to invite the ghost of ‘Mencius’ to make plans” (X. Lu 1918c, p. 8). He further claimed: “Nowadays, there is a group of people fond of talking about ghosts who hate science the most… In their view, how to save this hateful and detestable scientific world? Mr. Yu Fu said in his reply to Mr. Wu Zhihui in the Spiritual Magazine: ‘If the theory of ghosts and spirits does not spread, the fate of the nation will be shortened!’ So, the best way is to spread the theory of ghosts and spirits” (X. Lu 1918a, pp. 106–9). In private correspondence, Lu Xun bluntly stated that the spiritualist books published in recent years were a “heinous” harm, lamenting: “Personnel matters are not cultivated, the crowd rushes to the way of ghosts; is it that the nation is about to perish and listens to the orders of gods?” (X. Lu 2019, p. 17). In other words, the New Culture camp transformed Spiritualism from an object of epistemic debate into a political enemy endangering the nation and society. By binding it with negative symbols such as backwardness, ignorance, restoration of monarchy, and national extinction, the New Culture camp successfully “stigmatized” Spiritualism. The focal point of the debate transcended the existence of ghosts and spirits, evolving into a struggle over the cultural direction and political future of modern China. Spiritualism was deemed not only “unscientific” but also “anti-modern” and “anti-progressive”.

Overall, New Youth’s critique strategy included “rational” argumentation (questioning the possibility of ghosts with scientific principles), empirical refutation (exposing the falsity of spirit evidence like photos), and moral depreciation (using terms like monsters and swindlers to humiliate opponents). Its logical structure was clear and consistent: positioning Spiritualism as the “Other” of “Superstition” to highlight the legitimacy of scientific truth. Within this discursive framework, Science was not only the way to truth but also a symbol of moral justice and social progress—“Science” thus stood alongside “Democracy” as unquestionable justice. This gave the New Culture intellectuals a dual advantage of moral high ground and epistemic authority: they positioned themselves as enlighteners of the new era, tasked with expelling ignorance and rebuilding rational order.

Facing the fierce offensive of New Youth, the Spiritual Society naturally did not sit still. As mentioned, the founders and supporters of the Spiritual Society included elites baptized by Western learning. Their strategy was to embed traditional spirit-writing practices into the framework of “Science”, introducing international spiritualist trends and constructing “Spiritualism Research Methods” to strive for legitimacy within the modern knowledge system. The Spiritual Society translated the results of the British Society for Psychical Research (SPR) (Jiao 2016), proposed terms like “Celestial Spirit” and “Voice Spirit” (Liu 1922, pp. 80–83), and created methods including “Scientific Research Method”, “Philosophical Research Method”, and “Religious Method” (Xue 1921, pp. 14–16), attempting to endow spirit-writing with universal scientific attributes through cross-cultural discourse. Yi Yixuan (易乙玄) even went head-to-head with Chen Duxiu in Reply to Mr. Chen Duxiu’s ‘Questioning the Theory of Ghosts’. He picked out a concept of “Spiritual Force” (Lingli 灵力) that was “a priori, permanent, self-existing, what Plato called Noumenon”, arguing that whether ghosts are easily seen depends on the level of spiritual force, and made a final judgment: “The existence of ghosts is no longer in doubt today; whether in terms of theory, fact, or apparatus, all can be used to prove it” (Y. Yi 1918, p. 51). Chen Duxiu and Liu Wendian (刘文典) immediately retorted, questioning how Yi could use an undetermined conclusion as a premise for proof (Chen and Liu 1918, p. 54).

However, the Spiritual Society’s heavy promotion of “Spirit Photography” became its Achilles’ heel. With the verbal and written attacks from mainstream media like New Youth, the sales of Spiritual Chronicles and related spiritualist literature declined, and its social reputation was severely damaged (H. Wang 2016). An interesting point is that precisely because the Planchette Immortal admonished against obsession and revealed that “Currently the nation is in trouble, one should be especially cautious. If the Way of Ghosts and Spirits expands, the national fate is tragic” (Jizai 1918, p. 137)—implying that rampant ghosts and spirits would ruin the nation’s fate—the Spiritual Society stopped this “scientific experiment”. That is to say, when scientific discourse overwhelmingly denied spirit photography, the Spiritual Society had to appeal to its higher transcendent authority—letting the “God” personally order a stop to the photography trials—to maintain the final dignity of its faith system. Although they failed in the spirit photography event, these efforts reflect the Spiritual Society’s attempt to paint itself with a layer of orthodoxy using scientific discourse: they were unwilling to be labeled as “superstition” and preferred to claim they were conducting a “New Science”—an emerging exploration not yet accepted by mainstream science.

In reality, the Spiritual Society’s strategy of “attacking the shield of science with the spear of science” revealed its weak position in the field of knowledge from the very beginning. They were forced to accept the agenda set by their opponents, acknowledging “Science” as the final arbitrator. In its struggle for legitimacy, the Spiritual Society engaged in “mimetic isomorphism,” adopting the research protocols and verification methods of the scientific establishment to signal rationality (DiMaggio and Powell 1983, p. 150). However, viewed through the lens of the sociology of professions, this mimicry proved disastrous. Andrew Abbott warns that in jurisdictional disputes, the profession that accepts the methods of its rival often capitulates its autonomy (Abbott 1988, pp. 40–52). The failure of the “Spirit Photography” incident was the concentrated embodiment of this strategic dilemma. They attempted to prove their supernatural claims using photography, a modern technology with the most positivist color, but this trapped them in the falsifiability of science. The failure of “Spirit Photography” was not merely a tactical error but a manifestation of the fundamental tension Max Weber identified between “formal” and “substantive” rationality. The Spiritual Society was driven by a substantive rationality—a quest for ethical imperatives and ultimate meaning—which inherently clashes with the calculable rules of formal scientific rationality (Weber 1978, pp. 85–86). By attempting to validate metaphysical truths through the formal apparatus of the camera and the laboratory, the Society committed a fatal category error, subjecting ultimate values to a disenchanted mechanism. In accepting the logic of empirical verification, they inadvertently stepped into an iron cage of their own making, where the irrational could only be legible as falsehood rather than mystery. Thus, when the photos were easily exposed as frauds, the Spiritual Society not only failed to prove the existence of the “soul” but also confirmed its own charge of “Pseudoscience”. To some extent, they aspired to be explorers of “New Science”, but in the face of powerful scientism discourse, they were ultimately defined as defenders of “Old Superstition”.

In summary, the debate on Spiritualism appeared to revolve around the existence of ghosts and the distinction between science and superstition, but it was actually a battle for epistemic authority. Borrowing Michel Foucault’s insight, every society has its own “regime of truth”, that is, a “general politics of truth”. It prescribes “the types of discourse which it accepts and makes function as true; the mechanisms and instances which enable one to distinguish true and false statements; the means by which each is sanctioned; the techniques and procedures accorded value in the acquisition of truth; and the status of those who are charged with saying what counts as true” (Foucault 1980, p. 131). In the early years of the Republic, “Science” was rising as the new truth paradigm, and the focus of the struggle was the power to define and interpret this new paradigm. By critiquing Spiritualism, New Culture elites not only established the orthodox status of science but also relegated Spiritualism to the “Other” realm of “Superstition/Pseudoscience”. In this sense, the pen of Chen Duxiu and others was an exercise of power—New Youth regarded science not only as a method of inquiry but also as a symbol of social progress and rational order, and exerted immense stigmatization pressure in public opinion, causing the once-popular spirit-writing Spiritualism to rapidly lose its foundation of legitimacy. It is worth noting that, as Wang Zhongjiang (王中江) stated, “Humanists in the New Culture Movement generally held a positive stance on the value of religion” (Z. Wang 2024, p. 344), yet this tolerance did not extend to what they defined as superstition.

As Pierre Bourdieu argued, various forms of capital in society can be converted into one another. When a subject’s resources gain the “recognition” (reconnaissance) and “misrecognition” (méconnaissance) of society, they are sublimated into symbolic capital—a form of domination seen as legitimate and invisible, bringing prestige and status (Bourdieu 2001, pp. 27, 39). In the knowledge field constructed by the New Culture Movement, “Science” itself carried immense symbolic capital—symbolizing progress, modernity, and enlightenment. In contrast, although the Spiritualism group had a background in traditional learning and the upper class, they were in a disadvantaged position because their cultural capital was not recognized by the modern epistemic community. Precisely because of this, they strove to translate SPR literature and propose “Principles of Spiritualism” and “Scientific Research Methods”, attempting to revalue their own capital to win acceptance from the knowledge establishment. However, the New Youth camp, relying on a higher field position and public influence, successfully labeled Spiritualism as “Pseudoscience” and won the discursive competition. They gained moral and symbolic points for “defending science” and were seen as the vanguard of the times, dispelling ignorance and enlightening the people.

Furthermore, from the perspective of the sociology of professions, this confrontation constitutes a classic “jurisdictional dispute” (Abbott 1988, p. 20). In the fragmented social landscape of the era, both the Spiritual Society and the New Culture intellectuals were competing for the exclusive jurisdiction to diagnose and cure the spiritual crisis of the nation. While the Spiritual group claimed jurisdiction through moral restoration and cosmology, the intellectuals engaged in a strategic “professional project” championed under the banner of “Science and Democracy.” They employed “boundary-work” (Gieryn 1983) to demarcate “science” from “superstition.” As Gieryn observes, “science” is no single thing; rather, its boundaries are drawn and redrawn in flexible, historically changing, and sometimes ambiguous ways. By leveraging this ambiguity to contrast their public image favorably against non-scientific activities, the New Youth camp sought to delegitimize traditional healers of the soul and establish a monopoly for modern disciplines (such as psychology and political philosophy) over the explanation of mental and social reality.

With the expansion of the May Fourth Movement and changes in the political situation, the intellectuals who controlled the discourse gradually entered institutional fields such as universities, the press, and policy-making, constructing part of the modern knowledge establishment; meanwhile, folk belief organizations like the Spiritual Society, lacking institutional support, became increasingly marginalized. In this reorganization of power–knowledge, science became not only a tool for explaining the world but also the sole yardstick for judging legitimacy. In China’s transition to modernity in the 20th century, it was precisely through such symbolic capital accumulation and discursive definition that science secured an unquestionable orthodox status. All practices categorized as “superstition” were forced to withdraw from the public space and retreat to the private sphere or underground status.

4. How Did Spirituality Become the Other? Daoism, Spirit-Writing, and the Landscape of Modern Knowledge

As previously discussed, in the discourse of “Scientific Enlightenment”, traditions of efficacy (lingyan 灵验) gradually became objects of discipline. This process can be divided into three stages: first, scientific discourse became ideological from the late Qing to the early Republic; subsequently, practices like spirit-writing faced sustained stigmatization and suppression within the state and public opinion systems; third, these spiritual traditions were imbued with political metaphors in the context of the modern nation-state and ultimately lost the space for reinterpretation.

In fact, as early as the late 19th century, a wave of using “Science” to oppose old beliefs had already risen in the Chinese intellectual world. After the First Sino-Japanese War, the sense of national crisis increased sharply, and intellectuals from both the reformist and revolutionary factions generally believed that only by introducing Western science, technology, and rationality could the tide be turned. When the term “Science”, translated from Japan, entered the Chinese context, its counterpart was the redefined concept of “Superstition”. Traditionally, the meaning of “superstition” was not fixed, generally referring to erroneous beliefs or sacrifices that transgressed ritual propriety. However, in the late Qing, as “Science” was enshrined as the unquestionable standard of knowledge, all beliefs contrary to it were swept into the category of “superstition” (Huang 2015, pp. 153–226). This binary knowledge system not only appeared repeatedly in press commentary but was also gradually solidified through state institutions.

Late Qing thinkers consciously linked poverty and weakness with the problem of superstition. The Qing government also responded to this trend at the institutional level: in 1904, it issued a reform edict advocating “Building Schools with Temple Property” (Miaochan Xingxue 庙产兴学), converting temple assets into new-style schools (Overmyer 2009, p. 50). The relationship between the state, society, and religion ruptured, breaking the previously existing “unstable equilibrium”. In the following decades, the functions of a large number of local religious sites (including Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries) were replaced by secular education, and a batch of shrines deemed “useless superstition” were demolished or repurposed (Goossaert 2003). After the establishment of the Republic of China in 1912, the new government began to legally distinguish between “Religion” and “Superstition”, attempting to recognize limited religious freedom based on the Western model (Cen 1933, p. 1) while suppressing superstitious activities. However, in the discourse of the time, “Religion” was mainly limited to a few recognized systems (such as Christianity, Buddhism, and Islam) (Second Historical Archives of China 1991, pp. 689–704), while a vast number of indigenous Chinese beliefs were categorized as superstition. For example, traditional Daoist talismans, spirit-writing, fengshui, and alchemy were all portrayed as typical examples of backward delusion in newspapers and by officials. During this period, the consensus of “Saving the Nation through Science” was increasingly strengthened, while old spiritual traditions like Daoism were seen as burdens hindering national strength and prosperity, urgently needing to be purged from social life. In the subsequent historical process, this “Scientism” thinking developed further, becoming a significant force influencing policy and culture. The anti-superstition movements from the 1920s onwards and the religious rectification in the New Life Movement can all be seen as continuations of this lineage.

Under the binary framework of “Science/Superstition”, China’s indigenous spiritual traditions faced unprecedented discursive pressure and cultural humiliation. The metaphysical value of Daoism was denied as a whole, its existential space shrank sharply, and its social influence declined rapidly. On the one hand, public propaganda equated Daoism with sorcery and witchcraft. Newspapers frequently used cases of superstition to prove the absurdity of Daoism, such as exposing Daoist priests using talisman water to treat illnesses, causing delays in medical treatment, or criticizing the harm of fortune-telling and physiognomy. The authors of New Youth also held extremely negative views of Daoism, regarding it as a charlatan trick to deceive the ignorant masses and the culprit of traditional slave morality. Qian Xuantong stated: “To eliminate the slave morality of the Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues, the only way is to abolish Confucianism; to eliminate the savage thoughts of monsters, demons, alchemy, and talisman drawing, the only way is to exterminate Daoism—the Dao of the Daoist priests, not the Dao of Laozi and Zhuangzi. To abolish Confucianism and exterminate Daoism, the only method is to shelve Chinese books. Why? Because 999 out of 1000 Chinese books belong to these two categories, Chinese writing has always been used exclusively to expound Confucian theories and Daoist heresies” (Qian 1918, p. 71). Chen Duxiu also declared: “Nowadays, various evil and heterodox practices such as fengshui, fortune-telling, divination, talisman drawing, chanting spells, spirit-writing, alchemy, qi circulation, watching the aura, rain praying, praying for clear skies, welcoming gods, and talking about ghosts run rampant in the country. Real learning does not flourish, and the people’s wisdom becomes increasingly blocked. All this harm comes from this lineage of theories” (Duxiu Chen 1918, p. 9).

On the other hand, the law directly prohibited a large number of traditional Daoist activities. During the Anti-Superstition Movement of 1928–1930, the Nationalist Government explicitly ordered the suppression of customs such as fengshui geomancy, divination, physiognomy, and character dismantling. “Becoming an Immortal” (seeking longevity) was officially listed as superstitious and obscene, yet these were important components of Daoist culture (Katz 2013). Thus, in the discourse of scientism and the “revaluation of all values”, the Daoist value system concerning transcendent care and sacred pursuit was thoroughly denied, and its theories and practices faced sustained stigmatization (D. Wang 2018).

A typical example is Hu Shih. Hu believed that two major religions had played extremely important roles in Chinese history: one was Buddhism, and the other had no common name but could be called “Sinitic Religion”, encompassing Mohism, Confucianism (as a state religion), and various stages of Daoism (Hu 2012, p. 115). However, when writing the intellectual history of medieval China, he clearly favored the Huang-Lao Daoists who “applied the cosmology of natural evolution to life and politics” (Hu 2003, p. 133) over religious Daoism. In his 1942 English manuscript Chinese Thought, Hu criticized the medieval period—the era of Buddhism and Daoism—for sweeping the nation with religious fanaticism (Hu 2001, pp. 369–83). In his later oral history, Hu was even more merciless towards Daoism: “The Daozang (Daoist Canon), with its set of ‘Three Caverns and Seven Auxiliaries’, is a huge set of fake books, counterfeited seriously from beginning to end. The ‘Sutras’ of the so-called ‘Three Caverns’ in Daoism—which are the main components of the canon—are mostly deliberate forgeries imitating Buddhist sutras. They are full of shocking superstitions and have very little academic value” (Tang 2003, p. 421). It can be said that in the new trend of thought that sought to “find a thread of order in the chaos; find a cause and effect in the headless and brainless; find a true meaning in the nonsense; find a true value in the dogmatic superstition” (Hu 1919, pp. 12–19), Daoism was completely excluded from the map of civilization and lost the status to dialogue with modernity.

As Weber stated, the rationalization process in the West brought about the “disenchantment of the world” (Entzauberung der Welt), where the world is no longer dominated by mysterious forces as science and reason govern everything. Compared to Western society, which achieved the internalization of religion through the Protestant Reformation, clearing the way for secular reason, the “disenchantment” in China’s modernization process was more forcefully promoted by knowledge elites. Utilizing the discursive authority of “Science”, the secularization process in modern China appeared to aim for rational liberation, but it also concealed power demands with a core of strengthening the nation. Consequently, the spiritual beliefs and practices of Spiritualism, spirit-writing, and Daoism were all rejected as irrational heresies.

If we expand our perspective slightly, the observations of Gu Jiegang (顾颉刚) offer another angle. After personally visiting the Zhiping Temple at West Lake and seeing statues of Guan Di, the Thunder God, Hua Tuo, the Five Uncanny Powers (Wutong), and the Holy Mother alongside the Buddha, Gu pointed out: “Chinese people only have the concept of worshipping gods, not the concept of believing in a religion. [Yu commented: Chinese people can create gods; whatever they lack, they create; if there is a ready-made one, they take it; if not, they imagine and make a new one.]” (Gu 2011, pp. 372–73). “The name of the Shaman (Wu) has changed, and the form of the Shaman has altered, but praying for blessings, praying to gods, summoning souls, and offering to ghosts are all nothing but the direct invocation of the Shaman. Thus, the soul of the Shaman is eternal” (Gu 2011, p. 375). That is to say, traditional Chinese belief in ghosts and spirits is itself a highly fluid spiritual practice; shamanic techniques were transformed into institutionalized Daoist forms after being baptized by Buddhism, but in essence, they still inherited the core of shamanic soul-summoning and blessing-praying.

Further, Gu keenly realized the political metaphor in the organizational structure of Daoism. City Gods (Chenghuang) were dispatched to take office just like officials in the human world moving and being promoted. “Seen in this way, Zhang Tianshi (张天师, the Celestial Master) is actually the Emperor of the world of ghosts and spirits. He follows the administrative divisions and appoints Yin (netherworld) officials based on Yang (human) officials. But now the Yang world has become a Republic, while the Yin world remains an Empire. Such inconsistency is quite dangerous” (Gu 2011, p. 382). In other words, indigenous spiritual practices like Daoism were considered to have potential ideological dangers in modern times. It was from this perspective that Lu Xun and Xia Zengyou (夏曾佑) linked the “spirit of the ghostly way” (guidao jingshen) with anti-modern events like the Boxer Rebellion, regarding Daoism and spirit-writing as the historical “culprits” hindering China’s modernization and republicanization (X. Lu 1918b, pp. 139–40; Xia 2015, pp. 25, 192, 477).

This view is corroborated by the research of Ge Zhaoguang (葛兆光) and Stephan Feuchtwang. Ge pointed out that the Daoist system of ghosts and spirits was established in imitation of ancient military ranks (Ge 2003, p. 12). Feuchtwang further analyzed that folk religious practices are inseparable from the imperial power symbol system, deeply reflecting the symbiotic relationship between imperial authority and religious symbols (Feuchtwang 2003). Wang Mingming (王铭铭) modified this but also admitted that Feuchtwang’s insight that “the symbolism of folk authority is related to the cultural recognition of actual power” is extremely persuasive (M. Wang 1997, p. 263). It is in this context that spiritual practices and beliefs like spirit-writing were not only seen as irrational but, due to the metaphorical relationship between their theocratic structure and the imperial order, were endowed with “anti-modern” and “anti-state” political symbolism.

In summary, during the early construction of Chinese modernity, practices such as spirit-writing, Daoism, talismans, and fengshui were seen both as residues of irrationality and as bearing political metaphors of being anti-modern and anti-state. New Culture intellectuals stigmatized them in the name of rationality and further politicized the thread of “Witchcraft–Ghosts–Daoism–Imperial System”, shaping a symbolic system of “Science/Superstition” and “Republic/Empire”, thereby liquidating spiritual traditions in the dual sense of knowledge and power. Institutionalized, bureaucratic Daoism lost the space for reinterpretation in modern state discourse directly due to its close association with imperial symbols. However, spirit-writing, which did not need to rely on official religious organizations but maintained its vitality through localized, textualized production mechanisms, labeled Spiritualism as science. It thus formed a unique “heterotopia” on the margins of culture and knowledge—both excluded from the order and reflecting another possibility of that order. This heterotopia acted as a mirror to the New Culture Movement itself. As Foucault notes, the mirror allows the subject to see itself where it is absent (Foucault and Miskowiec 1986). The Spiritual Society reflected the profound anxieties concealed within Chinese modernity: the fear that a disenchanted science could not address the vacuum of meaning. The spirit-writing altar was the “necessary other” that allowed the scientific to demarcate its own boundaries.

5. Conclusions

Looking back at the intellectual transition of the first half of the 20th century, spiritualist practices represented by spirit-writing, though often viewed as traditional residues, were actually deeply embedded in the tension of China’s construction of modernity. As this article has revealed, within a field where knowledge, faith, and power intertwined, spirit-writing unfolded a unique form of negotiation and response. In the knowledge production promoted by the Spiritual Society through the Spiritual Chronicles, it appropriated Confucian fragments (such as “cautiousness in solitude”, “self-restraint”, and “benevolence and righteousness”) on the one hand, and integrated concepts of reincarnation and karma on the other. Supplemented by channeling “techniques” and scientific knowledge (such as “spirit photography”), it constructed a sacred order capable of ethical reconstruction.

Borrowing the concept from Fan Li and Michael Lackner, these practices embody “science in the plural sense”, representing a localized negotiation against the logic of Western scientific exclusivity (Li and Lackner 2018). This point resonates with the French Sinologist Léon Vandermeersch’s analysis of “divinatory rationality” in China. Vandermeersch pointed out that, unlike the faith-based alphabetic traditions, the Chinese intellectual tradition evolved a formalist and introverted rational structure. This “divinatory rationality” (agarationalisme divinatoire), though rooted in religion, transformed into a ritual system and texts through institutional evolution, constituting a unique epistemic rationality in Chinese civilization (Vandermeersch 2013, pp. 425–40). Spirit-writing drives the manifestation of meaning precisely through ritual acts within the “Deity–Medium–Text” triad; its writing process is not only the material presentation of efficacy but also the symbolic reconstruction of epistemic legitimacy.

In other words, the modernity of spirit-writing lies not in the problem of “Science” but in how it secretly communicated with the global currents of “Spiritual Revival” using indigenous resources: although modern industrial civilization improved living standards, it led to human spiritual emptiness and moral decline, necessitating religious faith and spiritual pursuits to compensate. Charles Taylor argued that the “disenchantment” of modernity does not necessarily bring true subject liberation; instead, it may lead to a vacuum of faith and a rupture of meaning (Taylor 2007, p. 507). In a sense, spirit-writing could serve as a shelter for a conservative ethical order. Thus, the debate between early Republican spirit-writing groups and New Youth can be seen as a precursor to the “Debate on Science and Metaphysics” (Ke Xuan Zhi Zheng 科玄之争) around 1923—Hu Shih and Ding Wenjiang (丁文江) naturally represented the rational camp of “Scientism”, while Zhang Junmai’s (张君劢) defense of “Metaphysics” essentially foreshadowed the unconcealable call for “meaning beyond science” in the Chinese intellectual world. As Shen Guowei (沈国威) noted, the greatest achievement of this debate was “connecting concepts focused on material civilization with the spiritual world, making ‘Science’ even more of a household name” (Shen 2023, pp. 150–51). The Spiritual Society’s attempt was situated precisely at the early historical site of this tension: it neither resisted modernity nor blindly followed science, but sought to restitch the rifts between morality, the universe, and knowledge. It is worth noting that despite the discursive dominance of scientism in the early 20th century, various forms of “folk” or “popular” religious practices have demonstrated remarkable resilience. Unlike in the West, where such practices were largely extinguished prior to modernization, in China, they have endured and continue to flourish even among urbanized populations (Chau 2008; C.-k. Yang 1970). This persistence reinforces the argument for “multiple modernities” in the Chinese context.

In conclusion, the discursive struggle between New Youth and the Spiritual Society involved not only a conflict of knowledge paradigms but also marked the establishment of the binary discourse of “Science/Superstition” in the construction of Chinese modernity. It laid the basic pattern of the modern Chinese knowledge landscape: “Mr. Science” ascended the altar, the localization of institutional rationality and natural science accelerated, while spiritual experiences, ritual knowledge, and folk beliefs were continuously marginalized and stigmatized. This conflict exemplifies what Abbott terms a struggle over a “vacant jurisdiction”—the moral authority left unclaimed after the collapse of imperial political theology (Abbott 1988, p. 89). The Spiritual Society sought to occupy this space through mimetic isomorphism, translating substantive rationality into the idiom of modern science, but its failure was rooted in structural rather than purely intellectual conditions. Through effective boundary-work (Gieryn 1983), New Culture intellectuals consolidated a Foucauldian “regime of truth” within emerging university and state institutions, whereas the Spiritual Society lacked comparable institutional embeddedness. From the perspective of modernity, it is indeed necessary to engage in disenchanting reflection on certain traditional concepts (including “Mandate of Heaven”, “Qi Destiny”, and the traditional “Tianxia” order). However, modernity does not always point to the progress of value; it may also lead to the exhaustion of meaning and spiritual imbalance. Although scientific rationality is incredibly powerful methodologically, it cannot independently bear the burden of moral guidance and ultimate concern.

At a time when science is increasingly becoming the foundation of state reason and social order, perhaps we need to ask: Can we still reserve a place for a transcendent ethical cosmology? In the historical process dominated by disenchantment and rationality, will humanity’s inquiry into meaning and moral self-awareness truly exit the stage automatically? Borrowing Foucault’s insight: knowledge is never purely a tool for “revealing truth” but is a product intertwined with power mechanisms in specific historical fields. China’s modernization process is the same—it is not a unidirectional trajectory from the West, but unfolds through intense negotiation, exclusion, and compromise among various heterogeneous knowledges. The historical significance of spirit-writing may lie precisely here: it witnessed the early probing of the possibility of “multiple modernities” in early Republican China, reminding us that science is not the only logic of modernity, and that spirituality and ritual can also constitute a reasonable and self-sufficient world of knowledge.