A bridge built not of politics, but of shared belief
In the mountains of Fujian Province, an ancient goddess has become a living bridge. For three days in June, more than a thousand people from across the Taiwan Strait and the wider Chinese-speaking world gathered in Gutian County to honor Chen Jinggu — a Tang Dynasty healer venerated by 120 million believers — and in doing so, to rehearse a vision of unity rooted not in politics but in shared devotion. The festival is a reminder that the deepest forms of belonging are often tended not by governments, but by the faithful.
- A thousand temple representatives, merchants, and worshippers converged on Gutian County from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao, and diaspora communities as far as Canada and Singapore — a gathering too large and too deliberate to be merely ceremonial.
- The tension beneath the incense and ritual is unmistakable: a Chinese provincial government is consciously deploying a fifteen-century-old goddess as an instrument of cross-Strait integration, blurring the line between cultural inheritance and political strategy.
- At Linshui Palace, organizers formalized what had long been informal — launching a pilot program to institutionalize networks of Chen Jinggu belief and practice across the Chinese-speaking world.
- Youth entrepreneurship programs, industrial collaboration initiatives, and resettlement incentives signal that Gutian County is not content with symbolic unity; it wants Taiwan residents to build their livelihoods on its soil.
- The festival is landing in a space where the sacred and the strategic are genuinely difficult to separate — and where the success of the invitation depends on whether opportunity can match the pull of shared myth.
In the mountains of southeastern Fujian, a three-day festival last week drew more than a thousand people from across the Taiwan Strait and beyond. Gutian County's Chen Jinggu Cultural Activities Week — held June 10 to 12 as part of the broader Straits Forum — brought together temple representatives, business leaders, and worshippers from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao, and Chinese diaspora communities in North America and Southeast Asia. At the center of it all stood a figure venerated for nearly fifteen centuries: a Tang Dynasty woman said to have devoted herself to medicine and her neighbors, now worshipped by an estimated 120 million believers as the goddess of women and children.
The week's ceremonial heart was a gathering at Linshui Palace, Chen Jinggu's ancestral temple, where organizers launched a pilot program to formalize cross-Strait networks of belief and cultural transmission. County Party chief Xu Feng framed the event as an expression of shared purpose — a way to nurture common roots among people separated by politics but bound by history and faith. The goddess, he suggested, embodies values that transcend borders: virtue, universal love, and the resilience of Chinese civilization.
But the week extended well beyond ritual. Programming was designed to build practical ties among Fujian and Taiwan youth, women, and business owners, reflecting a deliberate strategy to use cultural heritage as a foundation for economic and social integration. Gutian County announced plans to expand youth entrepreneurship programs and cross-Strait industrial collaboration — with the unstated aim of making the region attractive enough that Taiwan residents might choose to settle there.
What distinguishes this gathering is the deliberateness with which a provincial government has woven cultural continuity into a tool for integration. Chen Jinggu is real to her believers — her story, her virtues, her presence in their lives. But she is also useful: she offers a language for cooperation that feels inherited rather than imposed, and allows Gutian to extend its invitation not as an act of absorption, but as a homecoming. Whether the economic promise can match the cultural appeal remains to be seen.
In the mountains of southeastern Fujian, a three-day cultural festival drew more than a thousand people from across the Taiwan Strait and beyond. From June 10 to 12, Gutian County hosted the Chen Jinggu Cultural Activities Week, a subsidiary event of the larger Straits Forum, bringing together temple representatives, business leaders, and worshippers from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao, and Chinese diaspora communities in the United States, Canada, Malaysia, and Singapore. The gathering centered on a figure venerated for nearly fifteen centuries: a Tang Dynasty woman said to have devoted herself to medicine and the care of her neighbors, now worshipped by an estimated 120 million believers worldwide as the goddess of women and children.
For years, Gutian County has made this cultural week a recurring fixture, positioning itself as the birthplace of Chen Jinggu tradition and the keeper of her legacy. Xu Feng, the county's Party chief, framed the event as an expression of shared purpose across the strait—a way to nurture common cultural roots among people separated by politics but bound by history and belief. The goddess herself embodies values that transcend borders: virtue, universal love, righteousness, and the resilience of Chinese civilization. In the hands of her believers, Chen Jinggu culture has become something larger than religious devotion. It is, by design, a bridge.
The week's centerpiece was a ceremony at Linshui Palace, recognized as Chen Jinggu's ancestral temple, where more than a thousand representatives gathered on June 11. They came from temples and associations scattered across Fujian, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao, Guangdong, and Zhejiang—a map of the Chinese-speaking world. At that ceremony, organizers launched a pilot program intended to deepen exchanges in Chen Jinggu belief and practice, formalizing what had been informal networks of worship and cultural transmission into something more structured, more intentional.
Beyond the religious ceremonies, the week included activities designed to build connections among Fujian and Taiwan youth, women, merchants, and business owners. The programming reflected a deliberate strategy: use cultural heritage not merely as a symbol but as a practical foundation for economic and social integration. Xu Feng spoke explicitly of this ambition, saying that Gutian County would continue to participate in integrated development efforts, foster cross-strait industrial collaboration, and expand youth entrepreneurship programs. The unstated goal was clear: to make life in Gutian attractive enough that Taiwan residents might choose to stay, to build careers, to put down roots.
What makes this gathering significant is not the piety of the worshippers or the antiquity of the legend, but the deliberateness with which a Chinese provincial government has weaponized cultural continuity as a tool for political and economic integration. Chen Jinggu is real to her believers—her story, her virtues, her intercession in their lives. But she is also useful. She connects people who might otherwise remain separate. She provides a language for cooperation that feels organic rather than imposed. She allows Gutian County to invite Taiwan residents not as subjects of absorption but as fellow inheritors of a shared tradition. Whether that invitation will succeed depends on whether the economic opportunities and quality of life can match the cultural appeal. For now, the county is betting that they can.
Notable Quotes
Gutian County will continue to proactively participate in integrated development and bolster cross-strait industrial collaboration and youth entrepreneurship to let more Taiwan compatriots stay and live a happy life in Gutian.— Xu Feng, Party chief of Gutian County
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a provincial government invest so heavily in a goddess festival? What's the actual return?
The return is integration. If you can get young Taiwanese entrepreneurs to move to Fujian, to build businesses there, to marry and raise families there, you've accomplished something that military force or political pressure cannot. You've made the boundary permeable.
But isn't that transparent? Don't people see through it?
Some do. But many don't, or don't mind. If you genuinely believe in Chen Jinggu, if your grandmother worshipped her, if your temple back in Taiwan has been honoring her for generations, then a festival in her birthplace isn't propaganda—it's homecoming. The genius is that both things are true at once.
So the culture is real, but the politics are real too.
Exactly. The goddess is not invented for this purpose. But the purpose is very much present in how the festival is organized, who is invited, what programs are announced. It's not cynical, necessarily. It's just strategic.
What happens if it works? If thousands of Taiwanese do move to Gutian?
Then the strait becomes less of a border and more of a region. Economic ties deepen. Families split across the water become whole again. And the political question—what is Taiwan, what is China—becomes harder to answer with certainty.