A little over nine years ago, when I was studying at a graduate school in the serene and rural heartland of the US, I first heard of the Chinese term “Falun Gong” through an MBA student from Beijing. The tall, hefty guy kept a very short crew-cut favored by typical Beijingers of his gender and age, which, in combination with the swastika symbol that hung on the wall of his apartment, sent a chill down my spine: a Nazi skin-head from China?
As embarrassing as my first encounter with Falun Gong was, it turned out to be a productive learning experience. The unusually soft-spoken and self-effacing youngster, a rarity among people brought up in the buzz and panache of China’s capital, convinced me that the sign of the swastika (a word that I had always thought to be German) had originated in India, and had been a symbol of Buddhism for thousands of years. He also did a demo of the Falun Gong exercises, which convinced me the practice was one of the numerous Qi Gong exercises prevalent in China.Apparently none of these things would lead me to imagine that Falun Gong would one day become a phrase so rich in its symbolism of thereality in China, and a force that seems uniquely capable of unsettling the ostensibly monolithic Communist regime in China.