The followers of Falun Gong do not like being called a sect or a cult. In Britain, they have gone so far as to write to the Press Complaints Committee to criticise a newspaper there which wrote about them in such terms.
But, however they should be described, their emergence as a force which disturbs the central government to the point of getting them banned, says something pertinent about the current state of society on the mainland as China pushes ahead with its giant economic reform programme.
For the Western media, they are a dream story - a mysterious movement with tens of millions of followers who can be summoned at the touch of a key stroke on an Internet terminal. Tales of levitation and of a leader who talks about aliens cloning human beings and controlling scientists make wonderful copy. The mainland media joined in with a vengeance at the end of last week with stories of one follower cutting himself open and another murdering his wife.
Behind the vilification of the movement, there is a serious question. The willingness of Falun Gong members to stand up and be counted in sizeable numbers - at least until last week's banning - has provided a spectacle not seen in mainland cities for 10 years.
There have been small, scattered demonstrations in Beijing by disgruntled workers, and reports from provincial centres of larger protests over livelihood issues, but nothing to compare with the size and public nature of the Falun Gong activities.
So, however non-political it may say it is, the group represents an obvious challenge to a government which puts a premium on carefully controlled social order.
The movement's appeal to the middle-aged and the elderly points to another, more basic challenge to the regime. These people were brought up as followers of Mao with the iron rice bowl of cradle-to-grave protection. Mao may still be honoured, but more modern economics have taken over from his doctrines.
