Summary
A 2026 study reveals how Chinese communities of Muslim descent in China, Taiwan, and the Philippines maintain distinct identities through ancestor worship. The Guo lineage, originating from Muslim traders who settled in Fujian between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries, offers a remarkable case study of how faith fades but blood memory persists.
The Guo ancestors gradually abandoned Islam beginning in the fifteenth century. By the early seventeenth century, they had fully assimilated into local non-Muslim society. Yet they preserved certain markers: pork taboos during ancestral rites, Arabic inscriptions on ancient tombstones, and fragments of Qur’an manuscripts placed on ancestral altars. These practices continue today in Baiqi Village, Fujian.
A surprising twist involves Guo Ziyi, a Tang dynasty general who lived centuries before the Muslim ancestors arrived. For generations, the Guos claimed descent from this famous Chinese hero. However, during the 1980s, when China began granting Hui minority status to families with Muslim ancestry, a debate erupted. The currently accepted narrative holds that the Guos’ ancestors falsely claimed descent from Guo Ziyi to disguise their foreign origin during harsh early Ming persecution.
Across the Taiwan Strait, a different transformation occurred. In Lugang, Taiwan, the Guos built a community temple where Guo Ziyi is venerated as both ancestor and deity. Unlike their mainland kinsmen, they did not experience a revival of Muslim heritage. Islam remains a distant echo. The temple serves as the focal point for lineage cohesion in the absence of ancestral halls.
In Manila, Philippines, the Guo Ziyi tradition extended to four other families of Muslim descent. Together they formed the Philippine Muslim Five-Surname Association in the early 1950s. The foundation myth tells of a sworn brotherhood between Guo Ziyi and four generals during a military campaign in 765. This narrative bonds the five lineages internally while associating them with the larger Chinese ethnic group externally.
The study draws on Henri Lefebvre’s theory that space is produced through social practices and power dynamics. Ancestral halls, graves, and temples are not passive containers. They actively shape identity. In Baiqi, the ancestral hall with its Qur’anic inscription marks Hui identity. In Lugang, the temple dedicated to Guo Ziyi signals identification with a transnational Chinese surname group. In Manila, the shrine to five sworn brothers represents ties to the Chinese world.
The research also highlights how political conditions shape memory. China’s Hui minority policies created incentives to emphasize Muslim ancestry. Taiwan’s political environment encouraged affiliation with a larger Chinese surname group. The Philippines’ Cold War context led to alliances with Taiwanese Kuomintang officials.
Ultimately, the Guo story shows that identity is not fixed. It is strategic, selective, and always changing. Ancestral spaces anchor these identities in physical form. As the Guo Ziyi tradition travels across the South China Sea, it adapts to local conditions and implants new themes into old traditions. The ancestors still speak. Their descendants still listen.
How a Fujian family’s 700-year journey from Islam to ancestor worship reveals the fluid borders of identity — and why it matters today
A Family Story That Spans Empires, Oceans and Faiths
In the bustling coastal villages of Fujian Province, China, a remarkable story unfolds each spring. Families gather at ancient graves marked with Arabic script. They burn incense. They bow before ancestral tablets. Then, in a quiet act of remembrance, they place fragments of old Qur’an manuscripts on altars dedicated to ancestors who practiced Islam centuries ago.
These are the Guo — a lineage of Muslim descent whose forebears settled in Fujian between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. Today, their descendants are not practicing Muslims. Yet they still honor the memory of their foreign ancestors through rituals deeply rooted in Chinese tradition. Meanwhile, their kinsmen across the sea in Taiwan and the Philippines have developed strikingly different ways of remembering the same ancestors.
This transnational story, documented in a 2026 study by Oded Abt of Tel Hai College in Israel, offers a window into how communities navigate identity when faith fades but blood memory persists. It also challenges simple notions about what it means to be Chinese, Muslim, or part of a diaspora.
From Muslim Traders to Ancestor Worshippers
The Guo lineage traces its Chinese roots to Guo Deguang, a Muslim trader born around 1308–1311. He moved to Quanzhou, a bustling port city in Fujian, during the early fourteenth century. His grandson, Guo Zhongyuan, left Quanzhou in 1376 and established a new home in Baiqi Village, east of the city.
During the Yuan dynasty (1279–1368), foreign settlers from West Asia — called semuren — held special status. However, the Ming takeover in 1368 changed everything. By the early seventeenth century, most Guos had abandoned Islam. Their genealogy records a poignant explanation: “After the Fifth generation, due to the difficulties caused by the ravages of war, the proper conduct of Islam was lost.”
Nevertheless, certain customs survived. The Guos observe a pork taboo during ancestral rites. They preserve ancient tombstones with Arabic inscriptions. And in their central ancestral hall, a fragment of a Qur’anic Arabic stone inscription occupies a place of honor.
Ancestor Worship: Where the Dead and Living Meet
Chinese ancestor worship rests on a powerful idea: the realm of the dead and the world of the living are inseparable. Deceased ancestors continue to influence daily life. They need food, offerings, and attention. A neglected soul grows bitter and brings misfortune. A satisfied soul bestows blessings.
The Guos perform these rituals in public ancestral halls and private household shrines. They present offerings before soul tablets called shenzhu — objects that embody the spirit of the deceased. Graves also matter, especially for their fengshui — the geomantic qualities that affect descendants’ prosperity.
For the Baiqi Guos, these spaces carry a double meaning. They are Chinese ritual sites. They are also markers of Muslim ancestry. Arabic inscriptions on graves attest to foreign origins. Pork taboos recall Islamic dietary laws. Together, they form what the study calls “ancestral spaces” — arenas where past and present continuously interact.
The Mysterious General Who Became an Ancestor
Here the story takes an unexpected turn. The Guos also worship a mythic ancestor named Guo Ziyi — a Tang dynasty general who lived from 697 to 781, centuries before their Muslim forebears arrived in Fujian. Guo Ziyi was not a Muslim. He was a Chinese national hero who saved the Tang empire from the An Lushan Rebellion and later defended Chang’an from Tibetan raiders.
For centuries, the Baiqi Guos claimed descent from this famous general. Genealogies from 1436 onward trace the lineage through Guo Ziyi’s son. This practice is common among Chinese families bearing the Guo surname. Until the 1980s, the Baiqi Guos saw no contradiction between being Guo Ziyi’s descendants and practicing Islam.
Then politics intervened. During the 1980s reforms, the Chinese government began granting Hui minority status to families who could prove Muslim ancestry. Being classified as Hui brought significant benefits: greater political representation, education budgets, burial rights, and — until 2015 — the right to have two children instead of one.
This sparked a public debate. Academics, local officials, and Guo lineage members questioned whether descent from both Guo Ziyi and Muslim ancestors was compatible. The result was a new narrative. According to the currently accepted version, the Guos’ ancestors falsely claimed descent from Guo Ziyi to disguise their foreign origin. Today, the Guos honor Guo Ziyi as a remnant of troubled early Ming times — a tradition preserved but no longer believed.
Taiwan: Where an Ancestor Becomes a God
Across the Taiwan Strait, a different transformation occurred. Beginning in the early Qing dynasty, several Baiqi Guo branches crossed to Taiwan and settled in Lugang, a historic town on the western coast. They formed a neighborhood called Guo Cuo Li.
These Taiwanese Guos do not practice Islam. They know about their Muslim origin, but it plays only a marginal role in their religious life. Unlike their mainland kinsmen, they did not experience a revival of Muslim heritage. To them, Islam is a distant echo.
What thrives instead is the Guo Ziyi tradition. Thirty years ago, the Lugang Guo built a community temple called Baoan Gong. The temple’s main deity is Guangze, a popular Taiwanese god. Yet the temple also serves as the focal point for venerating Guo Ziyi — both as an ancestor and as a deity. Family sources even present Guangze himself as a descendant of Guo Ziyi.
This dual role reflects the fragmented nature of migrant communities. In Lugang, lineages do not possess ancestral halls for common worship. Instead, the temple becomes the venue for the highest level of kinship practice. As the study notes, “In the diasporic context, the temple retains a much more active role in lineage formation and interaction with the ancestors.”
The main Guo clan center in Taiwan is a memorial hall for Guo Ziyi in Taipei’s Neihu District. Built in 1917 and restored in 2012, it houses the World Guo Clan Association. A golden statue of Guo Ziyi overlooks the first-floor hall. The second floor displays the Guo family tree. In this elegant building, kinship and saintly figures converge.
The Philippines: Five Surnames, One Brotherhood
Farther south, in Manila’s Binondo District — popularly known as Chinatown — another variation emerged. Here, the Guo Ziyi tradition extended to four other families of Muslim descent: the Ding, Ma, Jin, and Bai. Together, they formed the Philippine Muslim Five-Surname Association of Lineages in the early 1950s.
The foundation myth tells of a military campaign in 765. Guo Ziyi formed an alliance of sworn brotherhood with four generals. Together they repelled Tibetan raids on Chang’an. The essay describing this alliance, written in 1960, praises their loyalty and contribution to saving the nation. A portrait shows the five ancestors together.
Yet the Muslim identity of these ancestors goes unmentioned in the essay. Only the title and the association’s name refer to them as qingzhen — the Chinese term for Islam. Research into Tang historical sources confirms that generals named Bai Yuanguang and Ma Lin served under Guo Ziyi. However, no evidence connects them to Islam or to the families of Muslim descent.
The association was initiated with support from prominent Taiwanese military and Kuomintang officials: Defense Minister Guo Jijiao, Navy Commander-in-Chief Ma Jizhuang, and security officer Ding Weixi. This occurred during the Cold War, when Philippine Chinese elites closely collaborated with Taiwan-based KMT officials in promoting Chinese identity.
Why Space Matters: A Theory of Ancestral Places
The study draws on French theorist Henri Lefebvre, who argued that space is not a passive container. Instead, spaces are produced through social practices, cultural representations, and power dynamics. Tombs and temples carry crucial social and symbolic meanings.
Mayfair Yang, studying worship sites in Zhejiang Province, describes them as “sites of struggle between local communities and state agents.” These buildings — lineage ancestor halls, tombs, temples, churches — produce new forms of collective identity. They shelter ritual practices that tap into an alternative cosmos.
For the Guos, ancestral spaces serve multiple purposes. In Baiqi, the ancestral hall with its Qur’anic inscription marks Hui identity. In Lugang, the temple dedicated to Guo Ziyi signals identification with a larger transnational Chinese surname group. In Manila, the shrine to five sworn brothers represents ties to the Chinese world across the strait.
The Guo Lineage Across Three Locations
| Location | Key Ancestral Space | Primary Identity Marker | Muslim Heritage Role | Guo Ziyi Role |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Baiqi, Fujian, China | Central ancestral hall with Qur’anic stone fragment | Hui minority status (since 1979) | Strong — pork taboo, Arabic graves, Qur’an offerings | Remnant of early Ming persecution; no longer believed |
| Lugang, Taiwan | Baoan Gong temple | Transnational Chinese surname group | Marginal — distant echo, some taboos | Ancestor and deity; central to temple worship |
| Manila, Philippines | Five-Surname Association shrine | Overseas Chinese community | Minimal — only in association name | Bonding figure for five lineages; link to Chinese world |
Timeline of Key Events
| Period | Event | Significance |
|---|---|---|
| 11th–14th centuries | Muslim sojourners settle in Fujian | Origins of Guo lineage |
| 1308–1311 | Guo Deguang born | First identified Muslim ancestor |
| 1376 | Guo Zhongyuan moves to Baiqi Village | Founding of Baiqi branch |
| 15th century | Gradual assimilation begins | Islam fades, ancestor worship persists |
| 1573–1620 | Eighth and ninth generations abandon faith | Complete shift from Islam |
| 1436 onward | Genealogies claim descent from Guo Ziyi | Han identity marker adopted |
| 1725 | First Guo temple built in Lugang | Taiwan branch established |
| 1917 | Taipei Guo branch hall built | Later becomes World Guo Clan center |
| 1954 | Philippine Five-Surname Association founded | Manila branch organized |
| 1979 | Hui minority status granted | Political and social benefits |
| 1980s | Debate over Guo Ziyi vs. Muslim ancestry | New narrative emerges |
| 2012 | Taipei memorial hall restored | World Guo Clan Association headquarters |
The Politics of Identity: Hui Status and Its Consequences
Since 1979, the Chinese government has granted Hui minority status to select households. Applicants must provide evidence of ancestral worship customs with special characteristics — such as pork avoidance — and family genealogies proving Muslim ancestry. Being classified as Hui brings significant economic, social, and political benefits.
This policy drew considerable public attention to markers of ethnic identity. Much research into Fujian Muslims’ descendants now focuses on their origins and affinity with Islam. For the Baiqi Guos, this meant re-examining their family narrative. The Guo Ziyi tradition, once a source of pride, became a point of controversy.
Today, the Baiqi Guos do not dismiss the Guo Ziyi tradition altogether. Instead, they utilize it to enhance a new narrative. They depict themselves as a unique minority group that maintained its separate identity amidst harsh persecution during the early Ming. In this telling, Guo Ziyi is not a biological ancestor but a symbolic cover — a story their ancestors told to survive.
Different Paths, Shared Ancestors
The study reveals a striking paradox. Although the Guos share common ancestors, their family history narratives and identity terms differ considerably. These differences are reflected in the spaces dedicated to ancestor rituals.
In mainland China, ancestral halls and graves have regained an important political role. They foster Muslims’ descendants’ distinct identities and highlight foreign origin. Ancestor worship is not only a religious act but also a means for establishing unique identity in the present.
In Taiwan, where no political incentive exists to prove foreign ancestry, the Guo Ziyi tradition remains a salient feature of group cohesion. It elevates veneration of Guo Ziyi much more than in Baiqi. There, cultivating ritual and eulogy in honor of Guo Ziyi reflects the Guos’ desire to nurture affiliation with a larger surname group.
In the Philippines, the Guo Ziyi myth acquired a double-layered role. Internally, Guo Ziyi bonds five lineages with similar ancestral backgrounds. Externally, he associates them as a pseudo-descent group with the larger Chinese ethnic group. Their superior economic position allows them to fill influential roles in lineage undertakings on both sides of the strait.
What This Means for Ordinary People
Why should this 700-year story matter to anyone outside academic circles? Several reasons stand out.
First, it shows that identity is not fixed. The Guos were Muslims. Then they became ancestor-worshipping Chinese. Then some became Hui minority members. Then they became transnational Chinese. Each transformation responded to political, social, and economic conditions.
Second, it reveals how families remember — and forget. The Baiqi Guos preserved pork taboos and Arabic tombstones. The Lugang Guos forgot Islam but elevated Guo Ziyi to godhood. The Manila Guos invented a brotherhood of five surnames. Memory is selective, strategic, and always changing.
Third, it demonstrates the power of space. A stone fragment. A temple. A shrine. These physical objects anchor abstract identities. As Lefebvre wrote, “Whatever is not invested in an appropriated space is stranded.” Ideas that do not make their mark on space become mere signs, abstract descriptions, or fantasies.
A Bridge Across Troubled Waters
Today, the South China Sea is a zone of territorial disputes. Rigid boundaries separate China, Taiwan, and the Philippines. Yet beneath these political tensions lies a deeper history. For centuries, immigrants, capital, ritual practices, and beliefs have crisscrossed these waters.
The Guo lineage embodies this history. Their ancestral spaces — in Baiqi, Lugang, and Manila — form a network of memory. They remind us that borders are recent inventions. Family ties, ritual obligations, and shared ancestors predate them.
As the study concludes, the various representations of Guo Ziyi’s role relate not only to how each community narrates its origin but also to their different approaches toward integration into the larger Chinese social and cultural sphere. In Baiqi, Guo Ziyi marks earlier efforts to assimilate. In Lugang, he signals identification with a transnational surname group. In Manila, he represents ties to the Chinese world.
From the 1950s to the 1970s, the Philippine Chinese actively participated in compiling the Taipei-based World Guo Genealogy. Decades later, in 2012, they contributed to building the Guo Ziyi memorial hall in Taipei. Since 1975, they have renewed family ties with mainland kinspeople and supported construction projects in Fujian hometowns.
As the Guo Ziyi tradition bounces back and forth from Manila to China and Taiwan, it implants new themes into local traditions and adapts to local conditions. The story continues. Ancestors still speak. And their descendants — Muslim, Chinese, Taiwanese, Filipino — still listen.
