The Eternal Dance of Disease and Deception

Throughout human history, disease has served as one of society’s most revealing crucibles, second only to war in its ability to expose both the nobility and baseness of human nature. In the shadow of epidemics, we find not just compassion and solidarity, but also opportunism, exploitation, and elaborate deceptions that cut across all social strata. These medical frauds were never simple matters of black-and-white falsehoods—they existed in a gray area where genuine belief, cognitive biases, and deliberate fraud intertwined, gradually embedding themselves into social thought, organizational structures, and even cultural traditions that would endure for centuries.

The psychology behind this phenomenon reveals much about human vulnerability. When faced with mortal threats, people’s critical faculties diminish dramatically. The desperate will to survive lowers defenses against improbable claims, creating fertile ground for “snake oil” remedies and messianic figures. This dynamic ensnared not just the common folk but also the elite—ministers, aristocrats, and even emperors—whose positions of power meant their credulity could redirect the course of history itself.

Charlatans and Cult Leaders in Ancient Epidemics

For millennia, populations under the shadow of disease fell prey to systematic deception. The rise of heterodox religious movements provides some of the most striking examples. During the Eastern Han dynasty’s prolonged epidemics from Emperor Ling to Emperor Xian’s reigns (168-220 CE), the Taiping Dao (Way of Great Peace) and Wudoumi Dao (Five Pecks of Rice sect) exploited public health crises to expand their followings. Disease management became their primary tool for recruitment and organizational consolidation, eventually allowing them to establish quasi-state military structures that challenged imperial authority.

Ge Hong’s Baopuzi Neipian (Inner Chapters of the Master Who Embraces Simplicity) offers a contemporary critique: “In the past, there were people like Zhang Jiao, Liu Gen, Wang Xin, and Li Shen who claimed to be a thousand years old. Using minor tricks—making things appear and disappear, changing forms and appearances—they deceived the common people and gathered the foolish masses.”

The Han collapse provided a cautionary tale for subsequent dynasties about the political dangers of disease-exploiting cults. The Chaoye Qianzai records how during Emperor Gaozong’s Tang reign (649-683), a fraudster named Liu Longzi claimed healing powers using a gimmicked golden dragon head that “secreted” honey water from its mouth. As his following grew, so did his ambitions—eventually attempting rebellion before being executed with his co-conspirators. Notably, official histories like the New Book of Tang recorded him not as a medical fraud but as a rebel, reflecting imperial priorities: small-scale cons might be tolerated, but politically threatening movements required eradication.

The Psychology of “Magical Water” Cures

Another persistent phenomenon was the worship of “holy waters” during outbreaks. The History of Northern Dynasties documents how during Empress Dowager Ling’s regency (516-528), a Buddhist monk named Hui Lian gained fame for “healing” through incanted water, drawing thousands daily. Similarly, the Biographies of Eminent Monks describes how during the Western Jin’s Yongjia era (307-312), a monk “discovered” miraculous water in urn-shaped stones that supposedly cured all who drank it.

Ge Hong’s Baopuzi details how authorities dealt with one such scam involving an ancient tomb’s lime-infused water (lime actually has legitimate antiseptic properties). Locals commercialized the site, creating a thriving black market where water was diluted and resold until officials destroyed the tomb to end the frenzy.

By the Tang, these schemes grew more sophisticated. Li Deyu’s Huichang Yipin Ji describes a “sacred spring” in Bozhou that supposedly cured all ailments. The frenzy spread faster than modern social media—”from the Huai and Si rivers to Minyue, none failed to rush there”—with water selling at exorbitant prices until Li ordered the spring sealed.

The Anatomy of Medical Fraud

Historical records reveal remarkably consistent patterns in medical deception. A 4th-century story from Baopuzi illustrates classic techniques: A poor relative of Governor Ma posed as a miracle-working Taoist healer, claiming to cure blindness and lameness. His secret? Instructing patients to only report successes, creating an illusion of efficacy through information control. This early example demonstrates all the hallmarks of effective fraud:
1. Creating hype beforehand
2. Manufacturing herd mentality
3. Isolating patients to prevent negative feedback

Northern Qi records show even more elaborate setups. In one case, fraudsters used “professional plant”—disciples pretending to be cured invalids—to promote a spring where a golden Buddha supposedly appeared. The sudden appearance of an old yellow toad (in Chinese lore associated with immortality) added credibility, drawing even Emperor Wucheng and his court. The scheme leveraged prevailing Buddhist piety and alchemical symbolism to perfection.

Imperial Delusions of Immortality

### The First Emperor’s Pursuit

If commoners fell for relatively simple cons, emperors became targets of far more elaborate schemes. Qin Shi Huang, having unified China, turned his obsession toward longevity. But how did this notoriously shrewd ruler fall for alchemical scams? Historian Yu Ying-shih’s analysis suggests practitioners used psychological judo—setting impossible preconditions like “attaining mental serenity” (incompatible with rulership) to explain failures.

The famous incident where Qin executed all witnesses after suspecting information leaks about his movements reveals deeper layers. Adviser Lu Sheng had convinced him that secrecy was essential for obtaining immortality drugs—any breach would nullify their efficacy. Thus, when Prime Minister Li Si reduced his retinue (showing he knew of the emperor’s displeasure), Qin interpreted this not just as political insubordination but as sabotaging his immortality quest.

### Northern Wei’s Alchemical Tragedy

The Northern Wei’s Dao Wu Emperor (386-409) provides another cautionary tale. After Han chemist Dong Mi presented The Immortality Scripture, the emperor established an alchemical bureau, even designating Mount Xi for fuel supplies. When test subjects (death row prisoners) died from the elixirs, physician Zhou Dan orchestrated the chief alchemist’s resignation by blackmailing him through his concubine.

Switching to traditional cold mineral powders only worsened matters. The Book of Wei describes the emperor’s mercury-induced paranoia: days without sleep, erratic violence, and the infamous “son noble, mother dead” policy (killing heirs’ mothers) inspired by paranoid comparisons to Emperor Wu of Han.

### Tang Taizong’s Deadly Experiment

Even the revered Tang Taizong (r. 626-649) succumbed. After years of taking domestic elixirs (evidenced by his avoidance of mourning rites in 647), he turned to Indian alchemist Narayanasvamin brought by envoy Wang Xuance in 648. Despite the foreigner’s claims of 200-year longevity, the emperor died shortly after taking his concoction—likely a toxic blend of Indian herbs and Chinese minerals.

Remarkably, this didn’t deter successors. Six Tang emperors would die from elixir poisoning, including Xianzong—whose mercury-fueled paranoia led to his assassination by eunuchs—and Wuzong, whose death was explained away as “bone replacement” by court alchemists.

### Wu Zetian’s Narrow Escape

Wu Zetian’s (r. 690-705) dalliance with immortality could have ended similarly. Her trust in “200-year-old” alchemist Wu Shifang (originally Wei) led to his appointment as chancellor in 694. When his partner—a nun claiming to survive on one hemp seed daily—was exposed for nighttime orgies, Wu Shifang committed suicide, possibly sparing the empress from his deadly prescriptions.

When Quacks Shape Empires

Beyond palace walls, medical fraudsters occasionally influenced high politics. Western Jin imperial physician Cheng Ju exemplifies this. Beginning as a sycophant presenting Emperor Wu with extravagant gifts, he became Empress Jia Nanfeng’s lover and accomplice in murdering Crown Prince Yu in 300—supplying the poisoned pills in a plot that accelerated the Jin dynasty’s collapse.

Similarly, Tang Xianzong’s (r. 805-820) potential legacy as restorer of central authority was cut short by alchemist Liu Pi. Backed by corrupt officials, Liu became prefect of Tiantai to gather “magical herbs,” then fled when results failed. The emperor’s mercury-induced rages—documented in Han Yu’s writings—led to his assassination by eunuchs, unraveling his hard-won victories over regional warlords.

The Enduring Lessons of History

These stories reveal timeless patterns in the exploitation of human vulnerability. Whether through:
– The manufactured mystique of “holy waters”
– The psychological manipulation of hope
– The calculated use of cultural symbols (golden Buddhas, toads)
– The strategic setting of unverifiable conditions

Charlatans adapted their methods to each social stratum’s particular fears and desires. For peasants—communal salvation; for emperors—personal immortality; for officials—career survival.

Yet history also shows counters to such deception:
– Skeptical ministers like Pei Lin demanding pretesters
– Physicians like Zhou Dan undermining fraudsters
– The eventual exposure of scams through their internal contradictions

Most importantly, these cases remind us that while disease attacks the body, deception targets the mind. In our modern age—with new epidemics and new forms of misinformation—the defenses remain the same: scientific literacy, critical thinking, and awareness of our own psychological vulnerabilities when faced with existential threats. The names and technologies change, but the human dynamics endure across millennia.