Clarify the Truth, eliminate evil with Righteous Thoughts, save all beings, and safeguard the Fa with determination.
—Master Li Hongzhi
from Zhuan Falun
Fa (fah): law and principles in the Buddha school
The fated day my superiors assigned me the most noteworthy task is one I will always remember. The story was perilous and I was scared but excited. It showed the confidence of my editors in me, and their belief in my commitment to The Party and its Apparatus, that they would even suggest such a mission. It was apparent that I had succeeded, through dedication and loyalty, in working my way into the most senior ranks of my colleagues and I was overjoyed.
“The Heinous Crimes that have grown rampant throughout the remote provinces are feared to spread,” my illustrious supervisors announced to me.
“Surely such a cowardly betrayal of public decency cannot encroach upon our great and vibrant societal construct!” I protested.
“Do not be so naïve Tong,” they responded. “There are queer and rancorous elements in every society, even one as upright and glorious as ours.”
I was chastised by their words and fell into respectful silence, earning a further reproach.
“Pull yourself together Tong,” they said. “This is no time to sulk, there is much work to be done. You must prepare yourself for the difficult series of tasks that lie ahead. It’s a big job man, are you up to it?”
“Yes sirs, I am,” I replied, martially knocking my heels together in an attempt to summon a gruff readiness into my words. My supervisors grunted and looked satisfied with my affirmative.
“Well you better be,” they went on. “It will be your duty to unmask these devious and criminal marauders that have taken root amongst our happy populace, to use the position we have bestowed upon you, that of media correspondent, to show these cowardly hooligans for what they truly are, enemies of the state, religious fanatics bent on our destruction. It is your responsibility as both a journalist and a patriot.”
“I am both of those things sir, and I am pleased to serve my newspaper and my country in pursuit of the truth of the villainy of these reprobates of whom you speak,” said I, similarly steely.
“That’s what we like to hear boy. Now stop your dilly-dallying and get to it!”
I threw up my hand in crisp salute and quickly returned home. I placed together my toiletry kit and a change of clothes into my knapsack and was on the first train to Henan the next morning, ensconced in my seat and fervently reading the fallacious literature of the Falun Gong cult.
The train compartment was crowded with myriad brothers and sisters too on their way to gainful employ; though my face and body was squeezed almost uncomfortably tight in the space, I felt the palpable sense of unified spirit and undertaking. After a few stops I finally managed to get a seat of my own and set to work. I held the dirty pamphlets low in my lap, with elbows tight into my body, for the lack of space and fear my comrades riding alongside me might think I too subscribed to the catastrophic mysticism espoused by the evil group. I was, however, safe in the knowledge that should I be reported by a diligent traveler, my People’s Voice press pass would insure none but the most cursory examination of my true loyalties. As a member of the press on a mission critical to the welfare of The State, I was allowed certain materials otherwise sagely prevented to the populace for their dastardly qualities; if it came to it, a quick telephone call to my office would clear up any unfortunate misunderstanding. Though I must say, despite this, I did feel a sense of unease deep in the very pit of my stomach, less based on the fear of the wise and diligent actions of any citizen who may report me, but on the sheer tactility of the inky words that my fingers pressed. It is not that I believed in the rumored osmotic qualities present in the text, that I would be indoctrinated to their wicked beliefs by the simplest touch—who could believe such a silly story as that!—but the very fact that the words existed at all troubled me deeply. What type of people could present such villainous lies as the truth? Who could be so arrogant as to doubt the system that had been instilled in us all since our very birth? The Great Leader had started our people on a wondrous journey decades ago—He who made Order from chaos and Joy from despair—who would dare to deviate from the path? The fact that such people milled about, weaving themselves anonymously into the majority of well-thinking citizens content with a happy life and a powerful land, was antithetical with the conception I had always held of my brothers and sisters. Mental deficiency was the only justification for their wicked concoction of which I surreptitiously tasted.
Before I too barrel off into my tale like the high-functioning and rapidly-moving locomotive on which I at the time rode, perhaps I should provide at least a cursory glimpse of my life before then, instructive in its regularity if nothing else. I am an average man, merely one of a great many, but as they say, first things first, or close to it.
My name is Tong Bai. I am 35-years old, 34 actually, but in my 35th year. I was born in Beijing, the storied capital of my proud homeland, in the very shadow of the Forbidden City. I have many fond memories of my youth, from carefree days spent frolicking in Zizhuyuan Park, to my childhood joy of visiting the wild animals at the nearby zoo. What elation I felt watching the lions stalk gracefully in their pens! These majestic creatures from faraway places roamed within my sight: the great bear swatting the air with his massive paws, the swift eland gallantly leaping, the wild tusked boar snorting and prideful. I felt great privilege in my use of such a fine civic landmark and was a proud son of China.
Active as a member of the All-China Federation of Democratic Youth, I even had the great honor, at a very young age, of audience with the esteemed Chairman Mao just before his sorrowful death, as I, and others, were awarded by The Party for our diligence and enthusiasm. I will never forget the feeling of the Chairman’s plump hand covering my own, enveloping my childhood grasp in his tender strength. His keen eyes flashing above me like glittering pools of immense depth, a jocular wink and pat on the head before he sent me off. I can easily say that my youthful days were a blur of wondrous commitment and I grew up a fine and happy lad.
As a young man I entered Qinghua University to begin my study of journalism with the most honorable of intentions. I had become interested in the newspaper industry in secondary school, under the kind tutelage of a wise and dashing professor who took a gracious interest in my affairs. Professor Wang was cut from the cloth of all that I aspired to. He was respected, brilliant, and a great patriot to boot, giving up his career as a foreign correspondent in the capitals of the world to instruct the less fortunate youth of China in his noble profession.
I was his favorite pupil and we spent many hours together after class discussing the decadence and corruption of Paris, London, and New York. He told me many stories, some of which made me blush in shock and disgust. Quite the education! I was thrilled by the possibility that I too could one day educate my fellows on the great and potent society in which we were graced to live, far removed from the perversion of Western thought and “civilization” that the Professor so knowingly spoke of. He encouraged me on with these promises and more, though I needed little encouragement. A position in the media would enable fulfillment of my highest duty: to express my overwhelming gratitude to The Party and filial love of my countrymen.
I was accepted to study at Qinghua, and there I pursued these noblest goals at the expense of all others and achieved high marks in my studies. The professor, in a great misfortune, was accidentally killed during the summer of my second year at university. He was shocked to death by the faulty wiring of a hotel bathroom while on holiday at the seashore. The electrician on duty lamented his untraditional use of an electric razor. At the funereal services I was honored to deliver a short introduction to his eulogist, and met very many interesting and clever men, friends of the Professor I had not known previous, and kept up these relations for many months afterwards, continuing elements of my education the Professor had so graciously begun. Back in school, I worked that much harder in service of his memory.
Upon graduation, I quickly gained employment with The People’s Voice, a leading newspaper, were I performed my duties with skill and verve. Initially, I was confined to primarily administrative and light copy-editing duties, but eventually I was given articles of my own. My first People’s Voice byline hangs framed over my desk to this day: “Hen Thief Leads Bird Chase!” by Tong Bai. It was a proud moment in my life, but one that was all the more rewarding for I knew my hard work was unceasingly in service of the greater glory of my beloved China.
Even in the single-mindedness of my vocation, with no family to call my own and my mentor tragically killed, I was a happy and contented man. I felt the great love emanated by my coworkers and neighbors each day as I engaged with the blessing that was my life and work. I lived in a spacious flat replete with the conveniences of near-21st century existence and a balcony overlooking the park I had once wandered as a boy. I had a career on which I focused and enjoyed. My life was a mission of unceasing devotion and I was certain nothing could upset the fine balance I had crafted out of hard work and socially responsible action.
My duty was clear and I pushed forward, driven to succeed for the glory of The People’s Voice, and to share the sweet ambrosia of our success with all of China. Then, that fateful morning on the train to Henan, it was as if every grand assurance suddenly felt empty, every one of my great triumphs had turned false; for it was that morning that I learned there was a darkness in the world more than any simple hen thief could ever hope to muster; there was a true evil that silently stalked our land and its name was Falun Dafa.
The troubling reports that emanated from Henan were of a mysterious and shadowy group of Qigong practitioners who behaved in an unusual manner contrary to the beneficence of the state. In the fashion instructed from my earliest training as a young reporter, I sought responsible sources to illuminate the fallacies professed by this disparate collection of loners and misanthropes. I began my inquiry with a look into the pathology of mass psychosis as related to Falun Dafa, or Falun Gong, as they are commonly known, by speaking with the noted expert attached to the Mental Hygienics Institute at Zhengzhou University, Mr. Zhang Tongling. An eminent scholar in the field of group hysteria, Mr. Zhang provided my first introduction into the ludicrous nature of Falun Gong worship. He was a large, barrel-chested man, who spoke in a coarse tone and with emphatic volume.
“These Falun Gong diehards,” he said to me, “when ill, read from ‘great scriptures’ in hopes that the power of ‘God’ will cure them their ailments. Their crackpot beliefs are held at the expense of the logical progress of humankind and the beneficial fact of modern medicine. It’s a twisted theology based on belittling scientific achievement.”
“No!” I unwittingly cried out, shocked to hear our provincial brothers and sisters described in so unflattering a light. “You must be mistaken in your calculation, Mr. Zhang. Is it not the workers who provide the strength upon which our society rests?”
Mr. Zhang’s great bulk shook as he laughed at my expense, “You’ve got a lot to learn about human nature, Tong.” Clapping a rough-hewn hand on my shoulder, he grew serious. “They’ve succumbed to this form of mass manipulation in hopes of achieving their stated fallacy of ‘eternal completion.’ They believe they’ll be rewarded by ‘ascension to heaven’ for their foolishness. It’s a misguided theory intelligent citizenry can only dismiss as ridiculous.” He paused, reaching synthesis, “The simple fact, Mr. Tong, is Falun Gong’s beliefs cannot withstand the ultimate force of scientific hypothesis and honest investigation.
Mr. Zhang’s unwavering assessment frightened me and I left his office shaken. I did not want to, but logic demanded I accept his expert testimonial as truth.
I could not understand how my people could have grown so misguided. The central tenet of their “faith,” Qigong exercise, was a noble practice congruent with our ancient traditions. Its practitioners seemed, in my experience, to be elderly and worthy of the great respect due those who came before us, heroes struggling through the dark days of occupation and before. How a venerated practice such as Qigong could be perverted into a source of social discord was beyond my comprehension. I continued my research, the rows of figures in the park doing silent morning exercise taking on a new and sinister cast. I found my answer in the name of a single enigmatic man, the notorious Mr. Li Hongzhi. Upon retuning from Henan, my first article on the subject earned the gracious plaudits of my colleagues:
Mr. Li Hongzhi Offers Salvation, Delivers Evil
By: TONG BAI
Here is a guessing game: He calls himself the “Highest Buddha” and even steals the birthday of Sakyamuni so he can pretend that this lie is really the truth. He claims he has supernatural powers to move objects and make himself invisible. He says he loves China but only to steal Chinese money and return to live in the United States. Who is he? Answer: He is Mr. Li Hongzhi, founder of the Falun Gong cult that enslaves the people of China and harms their health and mental wellbeing.
He is also the attendant of a People’s Liberation Army stud farm, a trumpet player, a security guard, and a guesthouse attendant. But now he says he is the Highest Buddha! He says he studied Qigong from a Buddhist master named Quanjue starting at the ago of 8, then he was taken into a Taoist monastery at the age of 12, but this is a lie too. The truth is much later and he does not know about the Taoist elements. Mr. Li Hongzhi prepared a resume in 1993 that consists of all lies.
The Falun Gong “religion” he invented is simple. It is two distinct forms of Qigong in addition to certain movements and Thai dance elements that he learned on a visit to Thailand. His old friends say that he has no supernatural talents, though he is skilled on the trumpet. If true, this is his only talent.
His goal is not salvation for his misled followers, but is stealing their money. He charges large amounts of money for the books and videos he sells. He released a new limited edition hardcover that he charges five times the price of a paperback with the same material inside. He has started selling clothes and cushions as well. It is a Western Scheme!
When the Tianjin Normal University magazine Teenager Science-Technology Outlook published the story “I am Opposed to Qigong Practice By Teenagers,” by the noted expert of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, Professor He Zuoxiu, Mr. Li Hongzhi organized a great disruption and then lied about his role in starting the rebellion. He said he was in Brisbane, Australia, but he flew from Beijing to Hong Kong on Air China Flight 109, after fomenting a disruptive protest at the University. He caused great trouble for all the students with his selfishness and deceit.
To Mr. Li Hongzhi, anyone who does not practice Falun Gong and live according to his rules is a “demon.” Many who practice Falun Gong lose their sanity and become homicidal or suicidal. It sounds like Mr. Li Hongzhi is the one who is a “demon.”
The stamping screaming child, lice picked and hungry, who appeared as if by magic one morning on the roads I walked to work confirmed my worst suspicions of the group and its evil mastermind. He was dressed in a rat chewed and stained school uniform with a placard around his neck: PARENTS DEAD, VICTIMS OF LI HONGZHI! and an alms bowl on the hot sidewalk at his feet. When I first saw the lad I was overcome with pity, and dug into my pockets for what money I could muster to assist him in his plight, but when I heard his words, this initial sensation gave way to a vast anger at the man who had wounded him so. The boy screamed at a high pitch and with little deviation: Li Hongzhi breeds perverse mythology at cost of social function and Great Benevolent Chinese State. He steals from pocket of his followers in order to reward himself. Youth cannot buy clothing and school supplies like book and pencil because of His Malicious Theft. With Mind Control he corrupts women to disobey and kill husbands and commit Perverse Sexual Acts. He say to Kill Mosquitoes then Dogs then Humans. Farmers wish he does not exist. Li is Against All Good! His palpable anger was frightening, and I hurried past, tossing the money quickly into the bowl as I did.
“Master Li,” as he was known to his followers, brainwashed the old and young alike with a peculiar blend of our great traditions, Qigong and the philosophy of the ancients, with a perverse bulb of “New Age” mysticism no doubt gleaned from the pollution of America and its depraved entertainment. Such films and books had become disturbingly popular amongst the people, especially the young. From depictions of American Cinema Star John Travolta as an “Angel of Heaven” to Orphan Magician Harry Potter, product of a broken family and the demonic purveyor of Western Pagan Ritual, my eyes were assaulted by the imagery plastered on the streets of Beijing. Evil Icons placed in an increasingly successful attempt to pervert our culture and ideals through the gross vehicle of capitalism and cross-promotional tie-ins. I found myself arguing with merchants, pleading with them to cease their despicable acts.
“Why is it you persist in defaming our glorious state through the sale of Pornographic Western Trash?” I would ask.
“Perhaps Blockbuster Motion Picture Armageddon will cool your heels,” they would respond. “Your wife and family will worship you as Virile Provider for bringing home Bruce Willis Heroism.”
“This is not true,” I would assertively deny. “You have been co-opted by the American Propaganda Machine and should be ashamed. Have you no contrition? I am a bachelor besides.”
Their crude reply was often aggressive, with my “manhood” and sexual proclivities repeatedly called into question.
The government, of course, also made efforts to temper the dispersion of such unproductive messages, but the misguided ingenuity and technical savvy of our people proved too much to combat, with pirate editions of the Hollywood/Hong Kong garbage commonplace street trade. As DVD pollution perched easily next to vats of silently bucking river eel, the sidewalk bazaar became a marketplace of strife. These citizens, in pursuit of an illusory dream, could not see the horror they visited on their brethren in a vain wish for an extra ration of rice, or even worse, fine clothes and jewelry. It was as if they wished to be the very film stars whose decadence they so shamelessly promoted!
Their vanity was Mr. Li Hongzhi’s great boon. Once his victims were softened by the inundation of this commercial rubbish bin, he announced the forthcoming “End of the World.” He sowed great fear in his adherents and promised them “Savior” only if they followed his way of Falun Gong. It was only by fealty to him that they could survive this “Day of Judgment” and be allowed their place in the “Kingdom of Heaven.” So weakened they were by Western Vice, they stood little chance. Shocked by the incongruence of my fellow citizens, I became even more motivated to expose the malicious trickster for whose ridiculous promises they had fallen.
Even U.S. Experts Hate Falun Gong Cult!
By: TONG BAI
It has been universally acknowledged in China that Mr. Li Hongzhi, founder of the evil Falun Gong cult, is a notorious criminal, but now it seems that even the propaganda artists in service of the backwards Western Press have become aware of the blatant truth of his criminal affairs.
In a recent newspaper article from the Western U.S. city of San Francisco (a noted hotbed of deviant homosexual activity), Mrs. Margaret Singer, a top expert on cult behavior, was especially critical of the illegal group’s activities. In the article, which appeared on the paper’s front page, she is quoted as saying of Falun Gong practitioners, “They actually say, ‘don’t think.’ Just recite the master’s teachings.”
Perhaps followers of the Falun Gong cult who see that the same opinion is held of the criminal cult in all other parts of the world will not be so quick to dismiss the concerns of their home government, whose only interest is the protection and welfare of its citizens. It is because they wish to protect China that the authorities express aggravation with the public disruptions Mr. Li Hongzhi and his deluded subject cause in service of disrupting the public welfare.
Mr. Rick Ross, founder and Executive Director of the Rick A. Ross Institute, has personal experience with the trouble caused by Falun Gong. Mr. Rick Ross has helped many families recover their children and loved ones from insane cult behavior yet Falun Gong practitioners hate him because he speaks truth. “Hongzhi’s followers have caused problems repeatedly during holiday celebrations, apparently using every opportunity to pass out tracts and preach, which has annoyed others and violates the rules set out for such events,” he said.
In response to this statement he was insulted and told “he had won the prize for the most ignorant and biased ‘expert’ ever,” by a Falun Gong member. This could not be true however that he won this prize, because Mr. Rick Ross has degrees of every sort from famous American Universities and has appeared on the television shows Oprah, Donahue, and Inside Edition. With such exemplary credentials it is ridiculous for Falun Gong practitioners to insult Mr. Rick Ross!
Mr. Rick Ross also says “Regarding health, Hongzhi teaches, ‘the root cause… is karma… that’s the root cause of people’s health problems, it’s the chief source of them. Of course, there are two other forms. One of them is really, really small, high-density beings. They’re something like a cluster of karma.’ This sounds similar to the Scientology belief in so-called ‘Body Thetans’ or BTs, which that group’s founder L. Ron Hubbard claimed originated from outer space clustering on human beings and causing problems.”
From Mr. Rick Ross’s statements it is simple to deduce that Mr. Li Hongzhi wishes for the beliefs of insane American cults such as the Scientology cult formed by a writer of scientific fiction to become a part of Chinese society and culture. How could anyone imagine anything so silly as this cult! American movie actor of the 1986 action film Top Gun, Mr. Tom Cruise, is a member of this cult. He is also thought to be homosexual. Mr. Li Hongzhi wishes for all to be like homosexual pilots of fictional military aircraft like Mr. Tom Cruise.
Even the Falun Gong practitioner who insulted Mr. Rick Ross agrees this is so. “There are also practitioners who practice homosexuality. Actually all orthodox (upright) religions view this matter in the same way, Christianity included, it is very hard to reach heaven when practicing homosexuality,” said the practitioner.
Falun Gong practitioners believe that Mr. Tom Cruise will not reach “heaven” according to Falun Gong practice. Then why does Mr. Li Hongzhi seek for support from this American cult of scientific fiction homosexuals?
Western Cult Experts also agree that the Chinese government is innocent of the fallacious claims made by Mr. Li Hongzhi that Falun Gong practitioners are tortured. Mr. David Clark believes that Falun Gong’s “Human Rights” campaign is a, “clever marketing mechanism. It is a way of getting people to join the cause.” The “cause” Mr. Li Hongzhi wishes for people to join is the degradation of Chinese society and increasing the influence of such Western perversion as Mr. Li Hongzhi pedals.
The libelous claims against such experts as Mr. Rick Ross make clear that Falun Gong is a wicked cult with no intentions for goodness and only hope for evil. He tries to speak the truth against the group and is overrun by cult members who wish him evil. He believes that, “Western journalist should pay less attention to Hongzhi’s public relations machine and more to what he teaches and the consequences of his influence.” This is an intelligent statement by a U.S. expert who believes Mr. Li Hongzhi is insane.
It was shortly after this article appeared that I was walking home and saw the same down-on-his-luck beggar boy from weeks previous. He wore the same angry expression upon his face, and his clothing had not changed either with the exception of his shoes, which curiously appeared to be expensive American basketball sneakers. I was puzzled by this peculiarity but my attention was quickly diverted by his damning accusations against the man with whom I too was engaged in a fierce battle. This young boy was a true patriot, and his American shoes were rendered superfluous. His criticism was more than apt, it was delicate, terrible, and true. The boy spoke: Li Hongzhi disavows the power of science and technology and even cast doubt on the accomplishment of great minds. He decries scientist like Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton, even though he himself is but junior-middle-school graduate who does not know difference between organism and mineral. He is illiterate and lies when he claims the ability to melt man’s brain with mere thought. He says that with his third eye opened he can see behind a steel wall like Comic Book Character Superman. Li is Grave Danger! As I walked past the shining young lad, I outstretched my hand to encourage his efforts with a jovial pat on the head and concurrent hair muss and was quite alarmed when, not unlike a small woodland rodent, he grabbed my hand in his own and sunk his rather sharp teeth into the fat of my palm. I yelped in surprise and even may have jumped in the air as the bite was enough to draw blood and did, breaking my skin and raising tender sores in the shape of the boy’s anterior cuspids. His bloody grin following my hand’s release sending me hurriedly on my way. Upon reaching my apartment I quickly cleaned the wound and wrapped my hand in ice to ease the swelling, but despite my best efforts the wound would become infected and leave me bedridden and delirious for several days following, during which I was subject to the most curious hallucinations involving men and boys engaged in all manners of horseplay and athletic endeavor—an eventuality I attributed to the boy’s basketball shoes and my own attempt to subconsciously process the event that had left me so enfeebled. Nonetheless, upon my wellness, I was gratified that even the youth of the country were aware of the dangers of men like Mr. Li Hongzhi. As it was with me, the more one learned of the evil man the more terrifying he became. It is individuals like Mr. Li Hongzhi that unravel the delicately worked structures of our modern and vibrant society. How could one conspire to challenge the infallible system that made China great? Such behavior made clear that his only concerns were of himself and his own greed. Yet he had somehow awoken a demon feeding on darkness and ignorance that had lain dormant within the people. He confused a simpleminded and earnest folk with obscure words and ideas.
My second series of travels in service of The People’s Voice brought me to the Anhui Province, were I saw firsthand the devastation caused by Mr. Li Hongzhi’s perverse brand of mischief. I had been notified by my supervisors of a particularly vicious crime committed in the name of Falun Gong and was quickly dispatched to edify the gruesome quality of the affair. It is a sight that still burns deep within me.
Upon arriving in Bengbu City, I was to meet the local police constable, Chief Liu Yunlin, at the home of Jiang Wenli, a 56-year old practitioner of Falun Gong. She lived with her husband, a fisherman, in a large, sturdily-constructed apartment building in the neighborhood known as Little Bengbu, on the north bank of the Huai River. I had never traveled to Bengbu previous to this excursion and the view from my taxicab was delightful. I gazed out the window contentedly, momentarily forgetting my cruel destination, as I watched the river churn along in a most uniform fashion, yet dotted with the frenzy of boating citizens diligently working for the benefit of all (the region is known for its great abundance of river clams, supplying many neighboring cities with the tasty catch). I marveled at this wonder of Chinese industry for many moments before I was disturbed from my thoughts by the taxi driver’s interjection that we had arrived. I paid the fare and stepped from the car, once again conscious of the sordid sights likely before me in that morning’s activity. I girded myself with the knowledge that regardless of what lay ahead, it was my duty to report the truth of the affair, as distasteful as it may be. I swallowed my anxiety like a baby chick eager for sustenance and stood at attention on the corner, waiting for the Chief.
Apparently I had grown dazed yet again, as I was alarmed by the firm slap to my back that announced the constable’s arrival.
“Tong Bai, huh?” he yelled out, clucking at my surprise. “You Beijing guys, all the same, always sleeping on the job. It’s a wonder anything gets done in that city at all!”
Though dismayed by his lack of respect for the fine working people of Beijing, I held my retort in the interest of diplomacy and simply responded, “Why, yes, my name is Tong Bai. I have been dispatched by The People’s Voice to report—”
“I know why you’re here, pal,” he said, interrupting my carefully chosen introduction. “Your boss called yesterday, said you wanted to see the stiffs. Bit of a stiff yourself, no? Ha ha! Only joking. Come along Mr. Tong, we might as well get this over with.” He nudged me uncomfortably in the ribs with his elbow to punctuate his statement, then gestured for me to follow as he entered the exterior courtyard and walked up to the building’s entrance.
Entering the dark hallway behind him I tensed; even filled with the lively muffled chatter of residents behind closed doors, I could sense, and perhaps even smell, the death that lay soon before me. My steps grew shorter and my head muddled with conflicting sensations. When I reached the door to the apartment, the Chief ahead, he turned to me seeming to sense my unease. “Ain’t seen something like this before, huh?” he said with a compassion previously absent in his jocular attitude, “Aw, you’ll be alright. Here, cover your nose with this. Those two will be pretty rank by now.” He handed me his handkerchief, clearly a long time companion, which I took gingerly in my fingers. Cutting the ribbon announcing a police operation in progress, he opened the door.
Despite my precautions, I was not prepared for the sour smell that entered my nose upon stepping into the apartment. Up to that point in my life, I had seen many dead animals, and even once a human, upon my walks through the great city, but the close quarters and my apprehension must have served to amplify the sensations at work within the room. I brought Chief Yunlin’s dirty handkerchief to my face and breathed in deeply, working with all my might to restrain my desire to flee from the dark quarters.
“Woohoo! I told you it’d be as stinky as pack of copulating squids in here, Mr. Tong. We’ll have to get this mess cleaned up as soon as you’re done. Well, alright then, go ahead and look around!” The Chief prodded me forward on unsteady feet as my eyes adjusted to the dim light and the incessant droning of buzzing flies. Looking around, it appeared to me that the interior of the apartment had been decorated for some holiday festivity, with odd streamers attached to the walls and thrown over the ceiling fan. I reflected in my mind as to what the occasion may be, but no nearby feasts or Party holidays came immediately to my mind. I then noticed that the furniture was overturned and the table had not been cleared from the last meal. Curious, indeed. When my eyes lit upon the blood-stained sheet covering the two prone forms in the corner of the room, my knees once again buckled.
“Are those the two unfortunate victims of Mr. Li Hongzhi’s notorious propaganda attack?” I somehow managed to stutter.
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about, but yeah, like I said earlier, those are the stiffs, wanna see ‘em or not?” the Chief replied, striding over to the victims as if nothing were amiss, casually brushing away an insect that momentarily landed on his yellowed collar. But before I could answer, or even prepare my eyes for the sight of the vanquished couple, he bent down and quickly pulled away the sheet, zipping it through the air with the flourish of the Spanish toreadors I had occasionally seen on television. Without the thin cotton filter, I looked at the dead bodies lying there in a pool of blood and filth and my mind made a gruesome connection of which I could barely fathom. Those streamers upon the wall were not streamers at all. In fact, they were strips of the dead man’s skin. This wife, so insane with Mr. Li Hongzhi’s word, had excoriated her husband with a pair of sewing scissors before plunging them into her own heart. This was the devastation wrought upon China by the Falun Gong cult. I must say I do not remember what followed immediately thereafter.
When I came to my senses, we were both back in the open air of the courtyard, Chief Yunlin standing over me with a sly grin on his face. “Guess I shoulda warned you, huh pal. Hey, sorry about that. You’ll be better prepared next time.”
I nodded and gestured for a glass of water.
“This ain’t the Shanghai Marriot,” the Chief grunted, hitching up his pants. “There’s a garden hose over there, be my guest. And when you’re done with that, what say you and me grab some lunch, your treat. I’m starving!”
I drank heartily from the hose and then staggered out after Chief Yunlin. Over lunch, he filled me in on the details of the crimes between bites of his Fuliji chicken, an aromatic specialty of the region. I contented myself with tea and biscuits.
“So we get a call from the neighbors, right pal? Apparently these two, the stiffs I mean, are yelling and screaming like a couple of mating hens, and mama next door can’t hear the daily broadcast, no matter what the volume.” As I could see the spittled chicken dissolving between the Chief’s capped molars, I was forced to bring my napkin to my mouth. “Well, we get there, me and my deputy—Wu’s his name if ya care—expecting just more of the old marital discord, but it’s dead silent. I’m about to go give that old witch next door a piece of my mind when we hear a scream like bloody murder from inside the room. Then Wu, that industrious bugger, bursts in like some kind of Hong Kong Action Star and here’s this nut perched over her old man with a pair of scissors like she’s some kind of crazy seamstress. She catches a glimpse of us bursting in and she just lights up like a horny yak—I mean, you ever see a yak in the wild, it’s pretty scary, you know. Her eyes were black and glassy just like that. And get this, before sticking the scissors in her own heart, this crazy broad screams, ‘Beloved Master Li, come quickly to save me!’ Just another day in Bengbu, ha!”
I nodded gravely at Chief Yunlin’s words as he buried himself once more in his chicken. This was the reason I had traveled from Beijing and been forced to witness the terrors I had seen that morning. These people had been duped by the man I was coming to consider the gravest enemy China had ever faced. This was no arrogant Japanese, he was one of our own, and had betrayed us all. I was disgusted and saddened both. “Mr. Li Hongzhi did not come,” I managed to mutter through my sorrow. “He was too busy counting his American dollars.” The Chief hardily nodded in affirmation.
Having finished my tea, I stood to leave. It was urgent I make my report on this horrible tragedy as soon as possible. The readers of The People’s Voice would stand for no delay. I shared my sincere gratitude with Chief Yunlin, and he, momentarily setting aside his chicken bone, grabbed my hand in his own. “No problem pal, thanks for lunch. But hey, how ‘bout that hanky?”
I pulled the Chief’s handkerchief from my pocket and returned it to him, bowing deeply, before I too returned to Beijing.
In the following weeks, despite my daily efforts, Mr. Li Hongzhi’s lies spread and the situation worsened. There were “demonstrations” and “peaceful protests,” failed attempts to gain support for his malignant cause. Falun Gong even tried to convince the media, the radiant flame of truth in the blackest midnight of falsehood, to support them by giving their irrational and contrary thoughts voice and publicity. The madness to think that a responsible vehicle of the people would allow for such blatant manipulation was testament to Mr. Li Hongzhi’s gross insanity. Sadly, darker days were still ahead.
It was in Tiananmen Square, at another so-called show of “resistance,” that a few hundred (they fallaciously claimed many tens of thousands) of Mr. Li Hongzhi’s followers descended upon The Forbidden City. Their mission was an ill-conceived attempt to slander and defame the government, even to intimidate a skeptical populace into accepting their nonsensical worldview. I watched horrified as the misguided yellow-clad fools swept into the very midst of our civic sanctuary and in a most selfish manner began to perform Qigong and chant incomprehensibly. Row upon row of these fiends engaged their cruel exercise, summoning Qi through false magic and gross contortion. The bystanders, including myself, were shocked and appalled. We defended our state’s integrity by pelting them with catcalls. When that proved ineffective, we used rotten eggs and sharp stones. Yet they persisted, seemingly unaware of our reaction to their indecent intrusion. They seemed to be under the power of the Falun Gong mind control practiced by the evil man Mr. Li Hongzhi.
When the police rightfully came to disperse them, seven of the crazed practitioners engaged in the most repugnant act of self-immolation, driven by some malevolent force into behavior that responsible humanity could only condemn as utter barbarism. Even the crackling and spitting of the fire could not drown out their agonized screams. One of the victims was a young girl. When my feature on her sad story appeared in The People’s Voice weekend magazine and there was an outpouring of venom directed towards Mr. Li Hongzhi and his lies, I felt happiness beyond compare.
Happy-Nut Roasted By Hongzhi’s Lies!
By: TONG BAI
Happy-Nut, as she was called by her classmates, awoke on her last morning as a studious yet fancifully light-hearted child of Chinese society to see the sun rising over the majestic purple mountaintops of her home province, as it has for all the eras of known scientific time. Yet as her alarm made joyful beeps in the chilled morning, the portent was for only ill tidings and evil happenings of all varieties. There would be no breakfast of savory congee for the young student, and no brisk skip to the local school house for the arithmetic lessons she once so enjoyed, none indeed. Instead, Happy-Nut’s day, a day to all eyes like any other in her young happy life, would end with payment delivered for her family’s insanity and their feeble-minded adherence to the murderous words of Mr. Li Hongzhi and his wicked cult. It would end with the searing pain of her own burning flesh as it bubbled and split, the sweet smoking flesh causing her to vomit on her white shoes with a silver buckle. The same shoes that her elderly grandmother had given her as a gift for the anniversary of her 11th year. The same shoes that she had cherished as a most splendid keepsake, preserving them with great care and daily polishing. At least she cared for them until she became a bad child when her mind became polluted with the evil words of Mr. Li Hongzhi. His evil words that spilled like soured milk from her mother’s deceitful breast. Her mother’s milk was poison!
Now the beautiful white of her shoes and the glinting silver buckle are not only scuffed but covered in unhealthy vomit too. Now her accursed screams can only hollowly echo in the lonely halls of the sanitarium as she watches the blackened flesh fall off her bones.
The day’s evil events are well known to even the most ill informed citizens. It is a day marked with the shame of our people, burned, like Happy-Nut, forever into the people’s consciousness with a shameful knowledge of the crimes of Mr. Li Hongzhi and his wicked cult.
The bad actions began in the Square at 2:41 P.M. when a middle-aged man sitting in a meditation posture poured liquid from a green bottle over his body. Then his body burst into flames. The scene was panicked and uncertain what the cause was until through the commotion and smoke he was heard to scream, “Falun Dafa is compulsory to all!” Hearing those words, all bystanders knew that this deranged man was a product of the evil beliefs of the Falun Gong cult and its messianic imposter Mr. Li Hongzhi.
In quick succession, four women—Happy-Nut and her mother included—then ignited, the cold winter wind spreading the fire all about their bodies. They scurried in circles, screaming loudly and moaning as the flames burned their skin and cooked their flesh. Two others were arrested just as they doused themselves with liquid from the Sprite bottles they carried. Alert police caught the whiff of gasoline and put the unsuccessful suicides in chains. Hao Jingdong, a middle teacher with a music school in Kaifieng who neighbors say has become sullen and absent-minded since discovering Falun Gong, screamed in protest as she was dragged away, “Let me go to heaven!”
The use of Sprite bottles was a masterstroke from criminal planner Wang Yunfang who ingenuously suggested the idea as a solution to their gasoline-canister needs (they first discussed attempting to carry the liquid in plastic bags). He figured that since Sprite and gasoline are a similar color, there would be little risk of discovery. He could not account for the difference in smell however.
Of the seven criminals, Happy-Nut was the youngest. She was led to Tiananmen by her murderous mother, amidst promised that upon fiery annihilation she too would become a “Dharma King”—a claim of remarkable gall for a child of her age not even of mineral status accorded by the backwards laws of Falun Gong. This is clear from a cursory examination of the seven conditions listed as prerequisites.
- Realization of the Causal Science
- Authorship and publication of treatise or commentaries
- Thorough realization of the truth of emptiness
- No claims of being a reincarnation of Buddha, but rather having instant realization of the power of meditation (and can demonstrate realization of the power of the growth of facial hair)
- No craving for fame or wealth for herself
- More wisdom that ordinary and common teachers
- Preaches the Dharma with great compassion and saves beings with convincing words.
Aside from the obvious claim to fame by herself, her sick mother, and their wicked Master, Happy-Nut is devoid of facial hair and has few or no publishing credits to her name. It is clear that the ways of Falun Gong can be proved devoid of truth even when using their own deluded and crazy regulations as is seen in the 7 listed prerequisites.
Happy-Nut was further told that in “Falun World,” the blessed place she would enter hand in hand with her mother, many would serve them and they would be happy for all eternity served by slaves and fed too much. They would laze about on pillows in vulgar displays of wealth and privilege. But their journey to this fantasyland was not to be, for when Happy-Nut ignited into flames the pain was too much for her to bear. The torment, along with the sick smell that caused her to soil her shoes, made her yell out and run, still afire, to nearby authorities who doused her and covered her with blankets, saving her, but with fingers amputated and horrible facial and bodily disfigurements. Though her life was saved, it would not be surprising if she wished otherwise as her wounds have immediately nullified any possibility of a Fruitful Life, Mate, or Child. She is now a hideous victimized monster. Her mother, thankfully, is dead.
In the aftermath of the terrible tragedy, the highly advanced burn center at Beijing’s Jishuitan Hospital was put on red alert. A special team of expert doctors was formed and special wards were prepared for monitoring the patients around the clock. All doctors and nurses on holiday with their families immediately returned to work, and many thousands of milliliters of blood and plasma were shipped in to deal with the wounds. All the patients were saved, though their lives are destroyed and they will endure forever in miserable pain.
Happy-Nut for one appears to understand how her life has been so horribly destroyed by a tragedy of lies and poor parenting. “Falun Gong is absolute lies,” she said. “Life is precious indeed. We should never give it up easily. It was not worth all of my horrible suffering and disfigurement as Mr. Li Hongzhi relaxes and enjoys his life by the pool. Falun Gong has brought horrible misfortune on the country and the people. Other practitioners should sober up to the truth. My mom cheated me from having a good life as an attractive girl. I hate my life now because of my mom and Li Hongzhi.”
My work became increasingly frantic. It was my obsession to insure that not another poor young soul was misled into destroying her precious life by the maniacal dogma of Mr. Li Hongzhi. These innocent children, just beginning their lives, now dead or maimed at a zealot’s whim. It was terrible and sad to see such buoyant futures snuffed in a storm of fallacies and lies. I redoubled my efforts. I wrote new and more damning articles each day, sometimes working as much as 48 hours in a row without sleep so possessed I was by the unending parade of tragedy. My coworkers at The People’s Voice even chastened me for my display.
“Tong,” they would say, “you have worked enough for one day. You need to relax, enjoy yourself. A new Intimate Stress Reduction Parlor has opened in the Tingboo district and we were planning on recreating there this very evening. We think you should come along.” I would mumble something about my commitments and insist upon getting back to work, burying my head in the many stacks of paper on my desk.
“We ask you Tong,” they would mockingly retort, “are you a fierce tiger or a meek lamb? Your only commitment tonight is the display of masculine potency.”
“Do not be silly,” I would reply. “Preventing heinous catastrophe is a far greater responsibility.”
At this point in our discourse, they would usually just shrug and leave the office, oblivious to my internal conflict, and off to whatever depraved displays suited their pleasure. I would then check and recheck my notes, read over medical reports of the dead and wounded, and seethe in quiet fury. How could they not understand that the injurious ways of Falun Gong were the greatest threat to the welfare of all people? How could they be so cavalier in the face of such sorrow and pain? I didn’t understand, but I knew that my labors must continue, regardless of my personal discomfort or the outsized growth of my sexually-related frustrations.
During these sad months, I rarely returned to my apartment, my life fully overcome with the pains of the innocents suffering under the yoke of Mr. Li Hongzhi’s cruel oppression. My social and romantic interests, limited to begin with, evaporated into the realm of nonexistence. I began to feel depression, and even to envy my frivolous coworkers. I took to imagining the many bodies spread throughout the Gentlemen’s Relaxation Centers, damp with perspiration. Sitting at my desk, I would envision the steaming baths, the humid smells and sweat, and would sometimes even drift off into a blissful slumber. In my dreams, the million swirling hands working a very different brand of magic than Mr. Li Hongzhi. But then I would pinch myself awake, leaving red and sometimes bloody marks on my arms and chest, and berate myself for passing into imaginary worlds. It was such fanciful illusions it was my job to disavow! All sacrifice was worthwhile. The sole object of my life was furthering my true beloved, the Venerable Chinese State, That Which Provided Everything.
My labors, it seemed, were increasingly effective. Falun Gong, as they were pushed further underground by mainstream society for their deluded antics, began to grow desperate. They even hijacked television signals to project their outlandish propaganda. Sets were interrupted at crucial moments of the World Cup Finals Football Contest, or during the Middle Autumn Festival, when people should have been enjoying entertainment programming with their families. This proved too much for most citizens to bear.
And it was not just the entertainment programs. Falun Gong, at the expense of peoples’ welfare no less, interrupted important weather bulletins. Such forecasts were of great importance, but Falun Gong had no regard for safety and maliciously blocked the programs, bringing great harm to lives and property in the rainy season.
Not long after these disruptions the populace awoke, as if from a deep hypnosis, and the tide shifted in favor of the rule of law. Libelous accusations of government brutality against practitioners surfaced regularly. Fallacious tales spread by deranged cult members and quickly proved false by the corrective instrument of society, namely myself and peers in the media. There was the claim that Mr. Cui Dezhen, a Falun Gong practitioner from Shandong Province, was beaten to death by police during an interrogation. I, of course, investigated the ludicrous notion. The reality, as told to me by the local police, was not so.
“That fool,” Police Captain Liu Yalong corrected, “was killed by a massive electrical shock as he frivolously climbed a high-tension wire in the act of posting Falun Gong propaganda materials.”
“This then,” I asked, taking detailed notes, “was just another spiteful attempt to win converts to the evil cause of Falun Gong?”
“Naturally,” he replied. “But rest assured, his only followers now will be the creatures who feast upon his decomposing corpse.”
We both chuckled heartily at his witticism.
With some understandable fear for my continued health and welfare, I began to take alternate routes to and from work, in an attempt to not establish a regular routine that could be followed by whatever unsavory characters might have interest in my affairs. Despite this, I saw the strange boy who had last bit me once again. It seemed that no matter where I turned he was there, confirming my suspicions of Mr. Li Hongzhi, but in a curious and most aggressive fashion as obvious from the nasty infection I received parcel our last encounter. I did not recognize him at first with his clean face and recently styled hair, but his voice penetrated my consciousness in such a way as to make my eyes unnecessary instruments. His shining Rolex wristwatch bounced on his arm as he gesticulated and screamed: Li Hongzhi blocks transmission of Television Space Flight Programs and wishes for bad things for people who do not follow him. Li Hongzhi asserts that man was created by “God” and that death and disease are debts accumulated in previous life. He says Earth is nothing but Garbage Dump and instigates foreign power to cause mischief in China. He claims vision that stretches for a thousand miles and that he flies like a bird in the sky. The way for him to continue his Cult is deceit and he asks his followers how to better deceive people. He is doomed to failure like all Cults in history befall. Passing the boy, I wisely neglected to pat his head or provide money as before, I merely nodded in stern agreement with his words so terrible and true.
At long last Constructive Learning Tutelage Facilities were established for lost comrades and I was able to report news of a happier sort. That of confused souls brought thankfully back into Warm Bosom of Great Mother China after experiencing so much depression and pain. The story of Liu Shujuan was a particularly glorious example of return to sanity.
Sack the Sect!
By: TONG BAI
Liu Shujuan first became infected by the evil fallacies of Mr. Li Hongzhi while employed as a science-promotion officer at the China Association for Science and Technology. His deceitful cult then went on to cost her gainful employment, her family’s love, and very nearly her life.
While it is curious to think that someone whose employment was in the scientific realm could become influenced by the backwards superstitions of Falun Gong, it is a powerful reminder of how insidious the mind control and brainwashing methods of Mr. Li Hongzhi can be. All must remain vigilant in defense of his evil influence and be watchful of the suspicious activities of his cult who perpetrate to destroy all that is good and hope for only bad things to happen to everyone.
As a surly practitioner of Falun Gong, Ms. Liu participated in many disruptions of public order with fellow cult members such as the attack on Guangming Daily, the Beijing TV Station, and besieging the Zhongnanhai central government compound preventing the diligent workers from performing their required duties. She also traveled three times to Tiananmen Square, the most recent time unfurling a red and yellow banner proclaiming, “Falun Law is the Universal Law!” For this egregious betrayal of public trust, she was immediately jailed
Her parents, upright citizens with no patience for her foolish cult behavior, were brought forth to encourage her to disavow her beliefs. Her employer submitted an immediate notice of termination for the shameful embarrassment she delivered upon her coworkers and supervisor at the China Association for Science and Technology. Seeing then the gross error of her ways, she promised never to demonstrate against the government again and was placed in a facility with other of her former Falun Gong brethren for a period of Constructive Learning exercises conducted at the Masanjia Reeduction through Labor Institute in the northeastern Liaoning Province.
“When I was in the reeducation through labor institute, it was very much like an educational holiday. I was privileged to review the doctrines of Falun Gong in a scientific and objective manner and I found that they are contradictory and misleading.”
She also challenged Mr. Li Hongzhi allegations that acts of torture occur at such camps, saying she had experienced nothing of the sort. “There was nothing of the attacks by vicious dogs, or beatings, or simulated sexual acts, as Mr. Li Hongzhi said there would be. The photographs available in the sympathetic media are clearly lacking context and are perhaps the result of clever fakery. With modern technology, it is quite simple for even a schoolchild to make such elaborate forgeries. I know it is true that with respect to detainees, the government complies with its laws, and its treaty obligations. The government does not authorize or condone torture of detainees. Torture, and conspiracy to commit torture, are crimes under the law, wherever they may occur in the world. In summary, nothing that could be considered torture occurred by any of the standards I am familiar with. On the contrary, the institute even provided us with leisure time and reading materials such as Mr. Li Hongzhi’s latest articles, so that myself and other former practitioners could debate the doctrine espoused. As I said I have begun to see many inconsistencies.”
“For example,” she continued, “doing wrong means increasing immorality, which will lead practitioners to hell, according to Mr. Li Hongzhi’s early preaching. However, he called on practitioners to assault governmental departments and even disrupt the public order in Tiananmen Square. How can these wrongdoings lead Falun Gong followers to heaven? That makes no scientific sense.”
She also pointed out some of Mr. Li Hongzhi’s many selfish and contradictory acts. “While preaching ‘Truthfulness, Benevolence, and Tolerance,’ Mr. Li Hongzhi himself deliberately changed his birthday, told lies, and collected considerable illegal money. It is a well known fact that Mr. Li Hongzhi claims he was born on May 13th, the same day as the Buddha, yet official documents show his actual birth to be July 7th. How obvious are his lies!”
It is clear from Ms. Liu’s heartening story that the Reeducation through Labor Institutes, the wise method devised by the Committee for Social Rehabilitation to combat the lies of the Falun Gong cult and those deceived by its wickedness, are a great success in repairing the minds broken by Mr. Li Hongzhi’s brutal influence. It was with the Institute’s noble assistance that Ms. Liu so quickly saw the fallacy her life had become under the spell of Mr. Li Hongzhi.
After serious internal deliberation weighing the scientific ramifications of each position, she came to the conclusion that Falun Gong had destroyed her life and ripped her family apart. “It was my selfishness,” she tearfully cried. “You see, Falun Gong makes you believe that in order to go to ‘heaven,’ a beautiful place that is made of gold, you should resort to every means to achieve ‘heaven’ even if that is destroying your family, and hurting the interests of your community and neighbors. If you follow the words of Mr. Li Hongzhi, you will became cannon fodder for the evil Falun Gong cult. That is me no longer!”
After completing the program at the Institute, Ms. Liu signed a public pledge declaring her split from the evil cult and its heresies and has made it her new duty to assist other misguided practitioners regain the correct path towards decency and cooperative living. “I am so happy I decided to sack the sect and return to my normal life. I feel so sorry for people still caught in the sticky web of Mr. Li Hongzhi’s lies,” she said. “Please, just love life, love your family, and kick away the fantasy of becoming a deity.” This is wise advice indeed.
At the conclusion of my interview with Ms. Liu, I remember my heart felt a joy it had not felt in many months. It was as if I had entered into coordination with a great and loving system in which there could be nothing amiss. There may be evil in the world, but with diligence and forthright action, it could be eradicated. Nothing could stand up to such a great institution as my country, certainly not some misguided ideology preached by a charismatic lunatic. Standing with her, surrounded by loving comrades, my life took on the purpose I had always been seeking when she said to me, “Mr. Tong, I see the grave error of my former ways. Now, I can emphatically say, I believe in nothing.”