Author: Dalia Parete

Dalia is a CMP researcher with a background in Chinese foreign policy and Taiwan studies. She previously worked at the European Union Institute for Security Studies, the Royal United Service Institute, and the International Institute for Strategic Studies.

Breaking Beijing’s Script

On Sunday, amid China’s extended May holiday, four tour boats on a river in the southern province of Guizhou capsized as they were buffeted by powerful winds, throwing 84 tourists into the water. To date, 10 people are reported dead, according to reports from central and provincial-level state media, and the “aftermath handling” of the incident is ongoing.

So far, nearly every fact we know about the disaster that unfolded on the Wu River, one of the country’s longest waterways, comes from central-level state media, with most of the essential facts fed to the country by local government authorities who have a vested interest in moving on quickly from the story — and keeping prying eyes away from more serious underlying questions about responsibility. The incident in Guizhou’s Qianxi County (黔西县), a local tourism destination, is a classic example of how China has routinely handled breaking news stories since June 2008, when former President Hu Jintao outlined a media policy and approach called “public opinion channeling,” or yulun yindao (舆论引导).

But with at least one significant report published Monday offering clear evidence of possible local negligence — including the ignoring of an orange weather alert by scenic area management in Guizhou — this story also illustrates how China’s media landscape, while tightly controlled, is never monolithic. Even within defined boundaries, individual outlets can occasionally find ways to push beyond boilerplate coverage and introduce more complex perspectives, creating cracks in the otherwise uniform narrative.

The “channeling” approach arose nearly 17 years ago in response to the rapid development of breaking stories on the internet and through a new generation of metro commercial newspapers that were more enterprising, often sending reporters directly to the scene to report. Serious breaking stories such as the Brick Kiln Scandal frequently took the leadership by surprise. They understood that while they could not completely shut news down — which could leave a news vacuum and create serious blowback — they could steer the narrative by releasing information selectively, combined with traditional controls.

According to this playbook, which is meant to establish the dominance of information from local authorities and central state media, commercial media outlets are ordered away from the scene and prevented from doing on-the-spot reporting, while central media are used to manage the narrative. As the official story spreads down and out from the central media, government talking points are amplified by media outlets at every level. The emphasis remains on basic facts and storylines, such as the efforts of the government and rescue crews — drawing attention away from more human stories, and from deeper questions about how and why.

In the years immediately after Hu Jintao introduced his new “channeling” approach, it failed miserably by many accounts, chiefly because a new generation of real-time social media tools, including microblogs like Weibo, were enabling rapid communication of breaking stories — like the 2011 high-speed rail collision — by ordinary people. Early in the Xi Jinping era, however, it seemed that the leadership had successfully applied the strategy to silence the media. One of the most egregious early examples was another tour boat tragedy, the capsizing in 2015 of the Oriental Star.

Coverage across official and commercial media of the capsizing of the Oriental Star cruise ship in 2015 was uniform, all using Xinhua News Agency reporting and images.

In 2025, even as the information landscape has undergone a dramatic transformation from two decades ago with a profusion of social media platforms and AI-powered content generation tools, China’s playbook on breaking stories remains remarkably unchanged. The Party’s ability to maintain narrative control despite technological shifts demonstrates how effectively institutional power can adapt to — and ultimately harness — digital transformation. But there are also limitations.

Xinhua Takes the Lede

At the heart of China’s official information stream as disaster struck in Guizhou over the weekend was the central government’s Xinhua News Agency (新华社). Issued on May 4, the day of the tragedy, the agency’s official release, or tonggao (通稿), emphasized the action of the leadership, “Xi Jinping Issues Important Instructions on the Capsized Boat Accident,” the headline began. Xi emphasized the need to “do everything possible” in the rescue effort, and to ensure “resolutely curb the frequent occurrence of major safety accidents.” As typical under Xi Jinping, these “important instructions” were the prerogative of the top leader, while the country’s number two, the premier, made “written comments” (批示) to signal action from the top down.

The front page of the May 5, 2025, edition of Guizhou Daily.

This Xinhua release established the standard for coverage across the country. On May 5, Guizhou Daily (贵州日报), the official mouthpiece of the top Chinese Communist Party leadership in the province where the tragedy occurred, ran the story on the front page, directly under the masthead. But this was the Xinhua release verbatim, with not a single character changed or added — identical to treatment in the CCP’s official People’s Daily newspaper.

Directly below the story on the central response in the Guizhou Daily was a boilerplate release from the provincial leadership, again stressing action — but more than that, action following Xi’s command: “The Provincial Party Committee And Provincial Government Rapidly Implement General Secretary Xi Jinping’s Important Instructions and Directives to Properly Handle Rescue and Response Work.”

The newspaper included no images at all from the scene of the tragedy. The rest of the front page, meanwhile, was dominated by Xi Jinping’s diplomatic trip to Russia.

In the Guiyang Daily (贵阳日报), the official CCP-run newspaper run by the major city closest to the scene of the tragedy, the central-level release again leads — but this time in the space directly to the right of the masthead, known as the “newspaper eye,” or baoyan (报眼). The headline only is included, with a jump to an inside page, and the Xinhua release about Xi’s visit to Moscow is smashed directly below it. Almost callously, one might say, no other attention is given to the tragedy on the Wu River. In fact, the most prominent story at the center of the page highlights local industrial progress. There is even a story, with image, directly to the right that promotes holiday tourism. “Visitors Flock Continuously to Huaxi Park,” it reads.

Page one of the Guiyang Daily on May 5 plays down the river tragedy.  

This pattern of central coverage of the tragedy, parroting Xinhua, could be seen clearly also in neighboring provinces and regions — where in the early 2000s one might have expected some more adventurous coverage from media operating under different local jurisdictions. To the north, in the bustling municipality of Chongqing, the local official paper, Chongqing Daily (重庆日报), again ran the Xinhua release verbatim at the top of the page. This pattern was consistent across regional CCP-run publications, highlighting the discipline the leadership exercised over this breaking story.

In more vibrant media ecosystems far from the scene of the tragedy in Guizhou province, the majority of outlets in Shanghai and Beijing were no less obedient. The Beijing News (新京報), a newspaper and online outlet under the city-level leadership in the capital that has often ventured its own more in-depth coverage of food safety and other issues, published the exact same information as the above accounts on May 5, with the simple headline “Guizhou Qianxi City Boat Capsizing Accident Causes 9 Deaths, 1 Person Missing.” 

In its early morning story on May 5, the day after the incident, The Paper (澎湃新闻), a commercial digital outlet under the Shanghai United Media Group (SUMG), used several official releases, including those from the central leadership and the Guizhou provincial leadership to cobble together a single report that coldly related the facts: 9 people confirmed dead; 70 being treated in hospital; 4 safe and without injury; a list of the various government offices responding under the Guizhou CCP and the Guizhou government (listed always in that order).

The May 5, 2025, edition of the CCP-run Chongqing Daily.

But the clear tendency for outlets to cleave closely to the Xinhua account did not necessarily mean that all outlets were under an explicit order against more in-depth reporting, and in at least one case on Monday reporters endeavored to tell a more compelling story and offer further context. Toward the end of the news day on May 5, more than 24 hours after the disaster, the Shanghai Observer (上观新闻), a digital outlet founded in 2014 under Shanghai’s state-run Liberation Daily (解放日报) — under the same press group as The Paper — published a more probing piece featuring firsthand accounts from survivors. The article documented the rapidly changing weather conditions, inconsistent life jacket policies on different vessels, and revealed that an orange hail alert had been issued two hours before the accident but was largely ignored by both tourists and possibly scenic area management.

The Shanghai Observer piece ran with a more colorful lede that was clearly distinct from the dry official Xinhua account, hinting (as state media coverage rarely does) at the human dimensions:

Around 5 PM on May 4, as the boat docked safely away from the assault of gale-force winds, heavy rain and hail, Wen Lin posted to her social media circle. Looking back at the river as she disembarked, she discovered that a boat not far away had capsized. At that moment, having just escaped from a state of fear, Wen Lin didn’t yet realize she had just brushed shoulders with death. It wasn’t until that evening, when she saw the news and calls from relatives and friends began pouring in, that the reality hit. All night, feeling as though she had survived a catastrophe, Wen Lin barely slept.

There seems to be little question that Guizhou experienced freak weather on Sunday that contributed to the tragedy. In a post to his public account on the Netease platform on Tuesday, a chief forecaster at China’s National Meteorological Center reported that the Guizhou boat accident was caused by a rare, extreme downburst, with wind speeds reaching 44.7 meters per second — equivalent to a Category 2 hurricane or severe typhoon. A weather station located just two kilometers from the scene of the accident, said the forecaster, provided “extremely rare direct measurements” of the disaster-causing winds as they occurred.

But other accounts online, outside formal media reports, raised questions about the response, suggesting, like the Shanghai Observer report, that the loss of life owed not just to natural disaster. In a post to his public account on Netease today, a journalist reported that the Guizhou boat accident could have been avoided had weather warnings been heeded and tourists adequately informed. 

Voices like these are a reminder, even in the face of state controls, that questioning journalism remains vital. Without probing investigation of safety failures and accountability for ignored warnings, similar tragedies will continue to occur — the predictable cost of a system that prioritizes message control over public safety.

China’s Anti-Corruption Act

As Tomb Sweeping Day approached last month, Yang Zhengan (杨郑安), a former deputy secretary of Zhengzhou’s local People’s Congress, found himself swept into a different kind of public ritual. Local party-run media in Henan’s capital city, amid the latest wave of anti-corruption actions rolling across the country, freshly reported his expulsion from the Communist Party last year for accepting shopping cards, bath house vouchers, and expensive liquor from individuals seeking to trade on his influence.

Yang is not alone. In recent weeks, official circulars and party-controlled media have publicized similar “exemplary cases” (典型问题) of corruption nationwide. But this is not corruption reporting. Rather, it is corruption signaling — designed to project toughness on corruption, direct public indignation toward isolated bad-apple scapegoats, and crucially, demonstrate to Beijing that local officials are complying with central directives. 

This all-too-familiar pattern of corruption treatment in the media in China, which deliberately ignores systemic causes, illuminates how the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) addresses — and more importantly, fails to address — a problem that remains as entrenched today as it was a decade ago.

Why is China making a fuss about corruption right now, and yet again? 

Ritual Without Reform

This latest wave began last month with the nationwide launch of a new disciplinary campaign that will run through July. During provincial tours in March, Xi stressed the need to “thoroughly understand the spirit of the Central Eight Regulations” and “resolutely combat the problems of formalism and bureaucracy.” These regulations, issued shortly after Xi took power in 2012, initially targeted official extravagance, banning lavish banquets, unnecessary travel, and excessive gift-giving — like those bath vouchers for Deputy Secretary Yang. They formed the cornerstone of Xi’s broader anti-corruption push that has been periodically reinvigorated through campaigns like the current one.

Recent media and propaganda responses to the renewed Central Eight Regulations push have come in several distinctive forms. 

One is exemplified by Yang Zhengan and his shopping cards, an act of signaling using previous prosecutions and punishments as examples. The examples, or “exemplary cases,” have the dual role of finger wagging and demonstrating local action. Behave, the lists say to those below. Look at us behaving, they say to those above. Yang’s case, with only the sparsest of details provided, appeared late last week in a circular (通报) from Zhengzhou’s Discipline Inspection Commission, the local anti-corruption authority under the national-level Central Discipline Inspection Commission (CCDI). Among other media, the circular was published by the Dahe Daily (大河报), a newspaper directly controlled by Henan provincial party authorities. 

A special sub-site on the Communist Party study portal 12371.com deals with the campaign, which it says is running to the end of July.

Also on the list of “exemplary cases” was that of Jin Yinhua (靳银华), a section-level official in Zhengzhou Economic and Technological Development Zone, an economic development area outside the provincial capital offering industrial access to central China’s transportation hub. Jin was disciplined in February this year for improperly hosting (违规操办) his son’s wedding banquet. According to the circular, he invited multiple individuals under his regulatory authority — presumably, companies located in the zone — and accepted gift money. 

Finally, there was Chen Yinfu (陈垠甫), the former Party Secretary of Jiehe Village on the outskirts of Zhengzhou. He was expelled from the Party for repeatedly accepting cigarettes and alcohol as gifts from construction project managers in his village during banquets to celebrate Spring Festival and Mid-Autumn Festival between 2020 and 2023.

Behave, the lists say to those below. Look at us behaving, they say to those above. 

Exemplary case lists like the one in Zhengzhou have already been posted in Guizhou province, Gansu province, and Henan province, and many more are sure to come this month. After all, the use of these exemplary case lists was prescribed by the CCDI earlier this month, when it directed inspection teams across the country to “use typical cases of violations of the Central Eight Regulations to strengthen warning education” as part of the nationwide learning campaign running through July. 

A second form of media and propaganda response is “meta-propaganda,” a form of self-referential theater where performing the appearance of action becomes more important than the action itself. In a sense, the entire Central Eight Regulation push is a call for four months of corruption-related meta-propaganda. And this can readily be seen in specific examples over the past week. 

The Fight for the Photo-Op

Across the country, the public accounts of discipline inspection offices on social media — most variations of the word “Clear Breeze” (清风) — have sprung into action since the anti-corruption push began. But this action is again about signaling action, not about taking action. At “Clear Breeze Xinxiang” (清风新乡), the account of a prefectural-level city in northern Henan, officials documented inspection teams conducting both open and covert monitoring during the recent Tomb Sweeping Day holiday. They claimed to have targeted the private use of government vehicles, exorbitant banquets and other infractions. 

Did discipline inspectors in Xinxiang actually show their work? Certainly. But not in the way you might think. One of the local office’s most typical posts reports nothing about the specifics of related actions, only that inspectors “organized implementation of the spirit of the Central Eight Regulations.” This is an odd turn of phrase. Why, 13 years after the regulations were introduced, would their “spirit” need its implementation to be organized? The answer, of course, is that these are not rules or regulations to be systematically enforced as laws might be under a system of rule of law. These are political prescriptions pressed within the Party, which for all intents and purposes is above the law

The root of the problem — the lack of real mechanisms governing a Party above the law — is right there, plain as day for anyone who looks past the pageantry. But this fact is a sacred chalice, a sin gilded as political virtue. No one can question or deny it, which is to say the Party’s supremacy, resulting in widespread impunity. But everyone can “implement the spirit.”

Photos from the discipline inspection office of the prefectural city of Xinxiang promote compliance with the latest anti-corruption push.

Understand that the Central Eight Regulations are political and ideological prescriptions within the Party, to be enforced as ever through campaign-style governance rather than consistent and concerted oversight, and you understand why officials at every level are scurrying off to “organize implementation” (组织开展….落实). And you understand why the meta-propaganda can quickly become ridiculous. 

In the same post from the local discipline inspection office in Xinxiang, for example, officials are shown in proverbial action. One image shows a visit to the cigarette counter — to do what is unclear, but we may recall the cigarettes gifted, allegedly, to the local village official Chen Yinfu in the above mentioned case. Another image shows three officials staring at a sedan parked outside the discipline inspection office. The only explanation at all is to tell us that “the disciplinary inspection and supervision organs of Weihui City, Yanjin County, Weibin District, Hongqi District” and other counties under the city’s jurisdiction are “resonating in unison,” conducting inspections and “establishing new practices,” all to “promote the thorough implementation of the spirit of the Central Eight Regulations.”

We might laugh at the expense of these local discipline inspectors for their poorly-conceived act of political theater. But they understand, like every player in the system — the savvy and the less so — that this is how the story goes. Xi Jinping’s latest stage instructions mean that it is time to perform. It is time to “swat flies” (打苍蝇), or make an example of small-time officials while leaving the core system intact.

Changing the script on corruption would require a political shift so fundamental that it is unthinkable, upsetting the Party’s unassailable role above the law — and ultimately above accountability.

Make no mistake, this show will go on.

Stop Saying Bad Things

Once known for quality print journalism, Italy’s media industry has suffered several financial strain in recent decades that has in many ways weakened professional values. Traditional reporting has increasingly given way to “infotainment” — a trend pioneered since the 1990s by former prime minister Silvio Berlusconi’s Mediaset empire, the country’s largest broadcaster, which prioritizes entertainment over substantive news. Cash-strapped outlets struggle to maintain journalistic standards, resulting in declining salaries for reporters and cautious approaches to digital innovation and AI integration. Against this backdrop of economic vulnerability, China has been strategically expanding its influence throughout Italy’s weakened media landscape. 

Despite having nearly 285,000 Chinese residents, Italy has few Chinese-language media outlets. Meanwhile, collaborations between Chinese state media and Italian news agencies have facilitated the spread of Beijing’s narratives into mainstream discourse. To better understand the complex interplay between Italian media and Chinese state narratives and media engagement, we spoke to Italian journalist Giulia Pompili. As one of the few journalists who has critically covered the on-and-off saga of Italy’s involvement in Xi Jinping’s signature Belt and Road Initiative, Pompili offers a unique perspective on Beijing’s information strategy and its ongoing impact on the Italian media landscape.

Dalia Parete: When we look at media landscapes globally, each country has its unique characteristics and challenges. What are the most important things to understand about how media works in Italy today?

Giulia Pompili: The main challenge for Italian media is financial. Print media do not have the income or budgets they once had when they had large paid-for circulations. Television is still a strong presence in the media landscape. But over the past 40 years, it has increasingly shifted toward “infotainment” — a blend of information and entertainment. This means fewer programs are focused on delivering substantive information, and more segments are designed primarily to entertain viewers rather than inform them.

Regarding the “infotainment” trend in Italian media, [former Prime Minister] Berlusconi pioneered this transformation. He fundamentally changed how Italians consumed information with his three television channels under Mediaset Italia S.P.A. He was also the first in Italy to envision using media manipulation to cultivate public support. 

After Berlusconi, all Italian channels, including the national public broadcasting company Rai, considered the “Italian BBC,” transformed the way they presented information to follow the Mediaset path. So, there is now more “infotainment” and less information across the board. 

A young Silvio Berlusconi at the Mediaset headquarters. SOURCE: RAI.

Newspapers lost many readers in the early 2000s, and printed information experienced a major crisis at that time. In the past decade, Italy has attempted to expand into digital media through websites and social media. But it has lagged behind countries like the United States. We’ve also seen the rise of influencers and information websites that often translate foreign articles. More recently, informational podcasts have gained some traction, but the business model remains unclear. No one has figured out how to monetize these platforms effectively. Nevertheless, this shift has once again changed the media landscape.

DP: What significant challenges and transformations do you see on the horizon for Italian media? For instance, how are developments like AI or changing consumption patterns affecting the industry?

GP: One of the biggest challenges is declining compensation for journalists. For example, if you are a freelancer, you cannot afford to pay rent for an apartment. And if you are a staff writer or a TV producer,  you likely have a very low monthly income. 

Italy remains quite conservative in the media sector. AI hasn’t been widely implemented in newsrooms, and significant fear surrounds it. Whenever I discuss this with colleagues, especially those from older generations, they express the concern that AI will take their jobs. 

From the consumption side, Italy has a significant information literacy gap because there is no education on media literacy. Most of the population is illiterate when it comes to media. They struggle to distinguish between information from influencers, reporters, staff writers, investigative journalists, and activists. This is especially problematic among younger generations, who often can’t differentiate between a TikTok influencer discussing Uyghurs in China’s Xinjiang region, for example, and a professional journalist who has thoroughly investigated the topic. Ideological perspectives create substantial barriers between activists, influencers, and traditional journalists — representing one of our biggest challenges.

Younger generations often can’t differentiate between a TikTok influencer discussing Uyghurs in China’s Xinjiang region and a professional journalist who has thoroughly investigated the topic.

DP: Despite Italy hosting nearly 285,000 Chinese nationals, few Chinese-language media outlets exist. What factors, in your view, have contributed to this limited media presence, and how does this affect information flow within the Chinese community?

GP: In Italy, it often seems that the large Chinese diaspora is already closely aligned with the Chinese Communist Party — though there is no specific research or data about this. They may not demand dedicated media because the Party already maintains a strong influence over diaspora groups, and pro-China content is known to dominate the media that are present. The main Chinese-language radio station, China FM Italia focuses primarily on entertainment rather than news. Another outlet, Cina in Italia (世界中国) began as a book publisher. They tried to publish educational books in Italian and Chinese. It was originally a cultural company, but it has now changed its business model, working directly with the official China News Service [under the United Front Work Department of the CCP].

Another unique character of the Chinese community in Italy is that you rarely hear any form of dissenting opinion. As the white-paper protests that began in Shanghai spread internationally in late 2022, there were attempts to organize demonstrations in major squares in Bologna and Rome — but these barely made an impact. Compared to similar protests in Germany, France, and the UK, which were much larger and more visible, the level of dissent in Italy was negligible. In Italy, such activities are notably absent.

Milan’s Chinatown. SOURCE: Alexandrefabre Bruot

DP: So, how would you characterize China’s approach to media or media engagement in Italy?

GP: The media engagement approach has been simple. Embassy personnel have built relationships with Italian editors, editors-in-chief, press agencies, and individual journalists. 

Before 2019, Chinese media had numerous bilateral contracts and cooperation programs between Chinese and Italian media. We engaged significantly with the official China Media Group [under the CCP’s Central Propaganda Department], which maintains the most prominent presence everywhere. In reality, they were paying for advertising in Italian newspapers. They would pitch original Chinese-language articles translated into Italian. Like everywhere in Europe, they tried to coordinate with Italian media outlets to publish Chinese dossiers written by the embassy or agencies working with the embassy. Generally, they attempted to use Italian media as a powerful tool to share their narratives. 

In 2019, something changed. Xi Jinping came to Italy for an official state visit. During that visit, Italy officially joined the Belt and Road Initiative, establishing numerous institutional cooperation agreements. One of the most notorious agreements for the media was between Agenzia Nazionale Stampa Associata (ANSA), our country’s leading news agency, and the Chinese government’s Xinhua News Agency. ANSA is a primary news source for Italian journalists, so this partnership allowed Chinese state narratives to directly enter Italy’s mainstream news ecosystem. 

ANSA’s CEO, Stefano De Alessandri, and former Xinhua’s President, Cai Ming Zhao (蔡名照), signing a cooperation agreement between the two agencies. SOURCE: ANSA

DP: How did the COVID-19 pandemic affect China’s information strategy in Italy?

GP The COVID-19 pandemic was a turning point for Italy, revealing China’s information manipulation tactics more sharply. A key example was when the Chinese Red Cross sent masks to Italy. Our former Foreign Affairs Minister Luigi Di Maio, who had signed the Belt and Road MOU the previous year, was entirely absorbed by Chinese propaganda and disinformation to rehabilitate China’s image as the country where the virus originated. 

We engaged significantly with the official China Media Group, which maintains the most significant presence everywhere. 

By late March 2020, China was building its image as Europe’s savior. This tactic worked quite well in Italy. They manipulated the situation by sending masks and supplies to the Italian Red Cross, creating a major political event. However, these weren’t donations but rather purchases made by Italy. We still have numerous legal proceedings regarding emergency funds spent on Chinese supplies. The critical point is that during this emergency, China used Italy as an experiment to see how effectively they could manipulate information to craft their image as a savior amid the pandemic. 

An article in Italy’s Il Foglio, published during a visit to the country by Xi Jinping, bears the headline: “We are not in Beijing,” after Chinese diplomats demanded positive coverage.

DP: How did Chinese officials typically engage with foreign journalists, like yourself, who were critical of their policies? 

GP: At the time, I was one of the journalists who extensively covered Chinese-Italian bilateral relations. I was also among the few who criticized Italy’s joining the Belt and Road Initiative. At the time, the appointed spokesperson of the Chinese embassy confronted me at the Quirinale Palace during Xi’s visit. He aggressively told me, “You must stop saying bad things about China.” The next day, we published the news headline, “We are not in Beijing.” In the article that chronicled this confrontation, we included the spokesperson’s full name, which made him very angry.

He aggressively told me, “You must stop saying bad things about China.” 

This incident also marked the first time that the Italian political establishment realized that the silencing of journalists was something that could not go unanswered. 

DP: Despite claims of a tougher stance toward China since Italy’s exit from the Belt and Road Initiative, how would you assess the reality of Italian-Chinese relations, notably regarding media partnerships and Meloni’s broader political agenda?

A page at Italy’s Agenzia Nova dedicated to coverage by China’s official Xinhua News Agency.

GP: We are saying that we are restricting Chinese influence, right? Italian printed media generally reduced Chinese content partnerships, but some outlets still publish Chinese state-sponsored content for financial compensation. While the “Chinese dossiers” appear less frequently, Italy remains an outlier in Europe by continuing to monetize the publication of Chinese government messaging in its media landscape.

The Chinese government’s official Xinhua News Agency changed cooperation partners from ANSA to Agenzia Nova, a popular online news source. So, it is still doing what it was doing with new partners.

From a political perspective, Meloni’s core focus as Italian president is immigration — she doesn’t think about much of anything else. She knows that China is the only country that can help her in Africa because China currently has the most significant political influence there.

She understands that she cannot effectively deal with Libya, Algeria, or Egypt without support from Chinese officials and institutions. For Meloni, the only priority is this very concrete issue, and she is ready to do whatever it takes to achieve her singular foreign policy goal: managing immigration. She knows that she needs China to stabilize the relationship with Africa.

A Rude Awakening

As netizens woke up on the fourth day of the lunar new year — a day dedicated to welcoming the gods back into one’s home and earning their blessings for the year ahead — a viral new video on the Chinese short video app Douyin (抖音) showed a more troubling kind of home visitation.

In the clip, uploaded by influencer Lu Jiujiu  (鹿酒酒), a young woman named Xiao Li (小丽)  wakes up to find her room filled with relatives and a strange man, bearing gifts, looming over her bed. The man, we are told, is a blind date she previously agreed to be set up with by her family.

As the story was picked up by Chinese media, the shock value was on full display. “I was completely baffled,” Xiao Li was quoted as saying in one interview. “I didn’t expect him to turn up in my bedroom.” In another unsettling detail, she added that she had no idea how he got in, as her door was locked. The next day, however, as a wave of netizens called the clip’s authenticity into question, Lu Jiujiu confessed in a comment that it had all been a staged performance “for entertainment only.” 

Not everyone was laughing.

Commenters wrote that the “performance” played on serious violations of personal privacy and security for a cheap laugh, as well as the often-triggering topic of parental pressures to marry and have children that many young Chinese people during trips home over the Spring Festival holiday. “Is this a blind date,” asked one clearly unamused Douyin user, “or a horror movie?”

Chinese media were similarly po-faced. The Beijing News (新京报), a newspaper under the Beijing municipal committee of the CCP, but also known for occasionally pursuing substantive reporting and discussion, cited the incident as an example of what the country’s latest internet cleanup campaign had targeted. Launched by the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC) in the leadup to the holiday, the campaign focused its crosshairs on staged videos and rumor-mongering generally, and — in particular — content that uses sensitive issues like marriage and child-rearing to go viral online. 

“For entertainment only.”

Shanghai Observer (上观), part of the state-run Shanghai United Media Group empire, similarly threw it in the litany of “self-directed deceptions” pulled off by individual content creators known as “self-media” — a topic that exactly one week before had been the focus of a comical skit during the annual Spring Festival Gala on China Central Television.  

Lu Jiujiu’s video was a smash hit — at least initially. Within hours it had clocked millions of views, the negative backlash a testament to the success of the rage-bait model of online content so successful around the world. Look at her Douyin account today, though, and you’ll find it missing. The holiday now past, Liu’s case is a cautionary tale about the dangers of fakery for entertainment.

A Golden Friendship

On January 17, a high-profile forum on Sino-Thai cooperation in Bangkok brought together journalists, media specialists, and think tank researchers from both countries. Attended by former Thai deputy prime minister Pinit Jarusombat, who in retirement has become a regular on PRC state media to stress the importance of cultural ties, was also an opportunity for Beijing to outline its vision for media cooperation — which emphasizes the dominance of narratives in the favor of China’s leadership.  

Pinit serves as president of the Thai-Chinese Cultural Relationship Council (泰中文化促进委员会), which was formed in 2020 as a platform for intergovernmental cooperation, and also as vice president of the Beijing-based International Confucian Association. He said the dialogue, called “Our Golden Friendship,” aspired to “promote the role of the media and think tanks to better connect people.” 

But Pinit wasn’t the only VIP in the crowd. Gao Anming (高岸明), vice president and editor-in-chief for the China International Communications Group  (中国外文局) run by the CCP’s Central Propaganda Department, was also there to outline China’s vision for media and communication. He described media outlets as “important platforms for disseminating information and channeling public opinion.” The latter phrase, emerging under Hu Jintao in 2008, refers to the CCP’s efforts to better direct public discourse toward the goals and agendas of China’s leadership. It is closely related to another term, “public opinion guidance” (舆论导向), which is a crucial phrase in the CCP’s vocabulary on press and information control in China. 

Gao’s reference to “public opinion channeling” (引导舆论) in the context of think tanks and bilateral media cooperation suggested the focus — for China at least — was on manipulating the conversation over Thai-Chinese relations, and moving the agenda in China’s favored direction. 

China Report ASEAN, a magazine published under the CCP Central Propaganda Department’s CICG Asia-Pacific for Southeast Asia.

Joining Gao in Bangkok was Li Jijuan, a  counsellor at the Political Division of the Chinese Embassy in Thailand, and Gen Surasit Thanatthang, a senior adviser at the Asia-Pacific Think Tank and the Thailand-China Strategic Research Center, a center under Thailand’s government-run National Research Council (NRCT). In a video address, the Chinese ambassador to Thailand, Han Zhiqiang, praised the partnership between Thailand and China.

The forum had the backing of the PRC embassy in Bangkok and CICG Asia-Pacific (中国外文局亚太传播中心), a CICG offshoot that publishes a range of publications targeted at local language audiences across Asia. These include the multilingual monthly news magazine China Report ASEAN (中国东盟报道), launched in 2016 as an “external propaganda” vehicle to reach members of the 10-state Southeast Asian union; the Korean-language Chinakorea; and El Popola Ĉinio, a publication in Esperanto. 

A simple WordPress-based website for China Report ASEAN offers English-language coverage emphasizing the benefits of Chinese infrastructure investment in Southeast Asia, including Xi Jinping’s signature Belt and Road Initiative. But a closer look at the publication’s online presence reveals an awkward oversight duplicated across the publication’s Facebook page, which has more than 500,000 followers, as well as its Youtube and X accounts. All of these accounts give “chinareportasean.com” as the outlet’s online address. Indeed, registration records indicate that the domain was first activated in 2017, the same year that China Report ASEAN was launched. 

Before readers visit this web address, however, they may wish to know that it links not to China Report ASEAN but to a Chinese gambling site. China remains determined to impact global discourse and conduct effective international communication. But in the topsy turvy world of the CCP’s “external propaganda,” where everyone is anxious for results — strange things can happen.

Global Powers, African Stories

The African media landscape has become a contested space where global powers vie for influence and narrative control. While Western media have historically dominated, Chinese and Russian outlets are gaining ground, using their own distinct approaches to shape public opinion. Amid this competition, local media and audiences are also asserting their agency, pursuing their personal interests and presenting worldviews that have been uniquely shaped by the region’s past.

We spoke with Dani Madrid Morales, a media scholar at the University of Sheffield, about how China and Russia have been navigating the African media landscape — where their approaches converge, and where they sharply diverge. Our conversation covered how historical anti-colonial sentiments continue to shape the reception of foreign media, and how African journalists and audiences engage with these competing global narratives.

Dalia Parete: How do China and Russia make use of anti-colonial and anti-imperialist sentiments in Africa to push their narratives? 

Dani Madrid Morales: We were interested in how people talk about Chinese and Russian disinformation in Africa and how much focus there is on whether their stories are spreading and how effective they are. Everyone talks a lot about how compelling their narratives are — like blaming NATO for the war in Ukraine and saying it’s not Russia’s fault — but we wanted to dig into why some African countries don’t buy into that. The key thing we found is the prevalence of anti-US sentiment, which has deep roots in the Soviet Union and China pushing anti-colonial ideas in the 60s and 70s. 

Back then, China was seen as a victim of colonialism, so that message resonated. Now, China is sometimes accused of being the colonizer itself in Africa, but the reality is a lot of African countries still feel exploited by the West. China and Russia know how to use that. Like when George Floyd was killed, and all the racial tension kicked off in the US, China jumped on that, using it to describe America as a racist country. And while it’s not all false, it has some truth. So, the thing is, China’s not doing straight-up disinformation in Africa — they just pick and choose facts and frame them in ways that connect with people’s lived experiences, which makes it hard just to call it all lies.

China’s not doing straight-up disinformation in Africa — they just pick and choose facts and frame them in ways that connect with people’s lived experiences.

DP: How else do China and Russia’s approaches differ in Africa?

DMM: China and Russia use very different methods in Africa. Russia tends to use more aggressive, hostile tactics, like fabricating attacks or spreading false accusations, especially in places like the Sahel region covering Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso. They treat information like a weapon in a war, similar to how the US or France have used these tools in the region.

China doesn’t typically go that route. It has a softer approach. While it does spread misinformation on issues like Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Xinjiang, it is more about protecting its interests and image globally, not specifically in Africa. China does not only directly accuse the West of wrongdoing but also highlights the differences between itself and Western countries — for example, how China isn’t a colonial power. It frames things like low-interest loans and medical aid as positive. Still, it often hides the negative side, like how Chinese companies exploit Africa’s mining sector with poor conditions for workers.

While Russia is more about information warfare, China is about shaping its image through PR. Both countries use these tactics based on their different goals. China’s approach shifts if it feels threatened, like during the COVID pandemic, when it adopted more aggressive tactics to defend its image.

DP: What have African residents themselves been doing to counter these efforts?

DMM: Some people in Africa, like journalists or influencers, get exposed to China and end up repeating China’s narratives. For example, a journalist from Ghana might go to China, spend some time there, and then return to Ghana, appearing on Chinese media like CGTN or Xinhua, repeating what China wants them to say. Some genuinely believe in China’s progress, such as the claim that China has lifted 100 million people out of poverty.

However, the average African person might not care much about Xinjiang or Tibet. What they do care more about is anything that paints the West negatively, which is a strong sentiment across the continent. So, they’re more likely to engage when they hear Chinese or Russian narratives criticizing the West.

DP: Based on your findings, to what extent do citizens actively engage with or resist these narratives, and what factors influence their responses? 

DMM: There are people like the Swiss-Cameroonian Nathalie Yamb who spread Russian narratives, but not many influencers push Chinese narratives. However, some political groups in Africa, especially those on the extreme left, are using these anti-US and anti-colonial ideas alongside Chinese and Russian examples.

That’s where China has succeeded — it’s created space for people to feel neutral.

Most Africans aren’t concerned with issues like Xinjiang but care about the more significant global power struggle. They might have sided with the US in the past, but now they’re more ambivalent. That’s where China has succeeded — it’s created space for people to feel neutral or even lean toward China rather than the West. It’s not that they’re super pro-China but they’re not anti-China either.

CGTN plays at a Kenya Broadcasting Corporation control room in Nairobi. Photo: Dani Madrid Morales.

DP: How do local media outlets fit into this strategy?

DMM: Some African media outlets help spread messages from China in various ways. One significant method is through Chinese diplomats publishing opinion pieces in local media. These pieces are often presented as equally valid as other voices, giving them a platform to influence public opinion. For example, after an editor in Burundi visited China, his newspaper became almost entirely pro-China. When the Chinese foreign minister visited, the paper ran several editorials praising China. The content in these pieces often blurs the line between fact and propaganda—it’s more opinion than hard news. China is very strategic about this and even tracks how successful these efforts are, measuring how many opinion pieces written by ambassadors are published in foreign media.

DP: How do China and Russia distribute their content through African media, and why do local outlets participate in these arrangements?

DMM: Another method is content-sharing agreements, where China and Russia provide media outlets with free content. Chinese news agency Xinhua and Russian outlets like Ruptly supply articles and video content, which local media may republish. Often, the source isn’t disclosed, making the content appear as though the local outlet created it. This practice is referred to as “information laundering.” For example, in South Africa, the African News Agency (ANA), which has close ties with China, often distributes Xinhua’s content as if it were its own.

To them, content from Xinhua is just another news source, just as trustworthy as anything from outlets like the BBC.

As for why local media outlets do this, the motivation isn’t always clear-cut. Many editors don’t have a specific agenda and simply publish content as part of their regular duties, treating foreign content, whether from Xinhua or Agence France Presse, like any other. In some cases, though, like with Independent Media in South Africa, there is a clear financial or political interest in promoting China’s viewpoint. The owner of that media group has close connections with China’s Communist Party and supports China’s global initiatives. Generally, while European people might be more skeptical of content from outlets like Xinhua, many people in other parts of the world don’t see it that way. To them, content from Xinhua is just another news source, just as trustworthy as anything from outlets like the BBC.

The China Daily offered for free at an airport in South Africa. Photo: Dani Madrid Morales.

DP: What informs African journalists’ views on foreign media and foreign influence?

DMM: How journalists in Africa view media from different countries, especially China, Russia, and the West, differs significantly from the mindset many of us might have in places like Europe or the U.S.

For example, when I worked at Spain’s national broadcaster covering international news, my colleagues and I would always see the BBC’s reports as trustworthy — though we’d still stay skeptical, like any other journalists — and see Russia’s or China’s CGTN’s news through a very suspicious lens. We were trained to believe that the BBC was pretty independent, while anything from authoritarian regimes like Russia or China was viewed with serious doubt. But when I’ve been in African newsrooms, I’ve noticed that many journalists don’t share that same mindset. To some, the BBC also has an agenda, and they don’t automatically trust it just because it’s from the West. The BBC might align with some of their values, but they’re not blindly following it like we might.

I remember interviewing journalists in Lesotho, a small country in Southern Africa, and I asked them about these concerns with Chinese media. One journalist stopped me mid-interview and asked, “Why are you questioning me about China and not CNN or BBC? Why do you assume that Chinese media is bad?” That threw me off because, from my perspective as someone who cares deeply about media freedom, I could never see China as a good partner for journalists. But to him, it wasn’t about that — his issue was that I was treating China differently from Western media outlets. I think this comes back to a deeper historical context of anti-colonial feelings. 

“Why are you questioning me about China and not CNN or BBC? Why do you assume that Chinese media is bad?”

Question from a journalist in Lesotho

DP: Do they see Western media organizations like the BBC as more or less reliable than Chinese or Russian state media?

DMM: The BBC has a different legacy for older African journalists — especially those who lived through colonial rule. They remember it as a tool of British colonialism, even though the UK and its foreign policy have changed. In their view, whether it’s China, Russia, or the UK, all these foreign powers come into their countries with their interests. And none of them are genuinely looking out for the local people. So, for many African journalists, it’s not about trusting or distrusting one foreign power more than the other. They tend to be equally cautious of all foreign media, viewing them through a lens shaped by their history with colonialism.

While journalists who studied in the West might still give more respect to French or British media, that’s not the case across the continent. The general sentiment is much more skeptical of foreign press, even if they treat Western media like the BBC differently from Chinese or Russian outlets. And that’s where the real difference lies. Western journalists might see China or Russia as dictatorships that control information, which requires caution when handling their news. However, for many African journalists, that same level of skepticism should also be applied to French or British outlets, given that they, too, have agendas. 

DP: How has China become involved in Africa’s media landscape? 

DMM: China has been in Africa’s media game since the late 1950s when Radio Peking [now China Radio International] began broadcasts in Arabic for North African countries and Xinhua set up a bureau in Cairo. Despite going through tough times like the Cultural Revolution in the 70s and 80s, China never left the African media space. In the late 90s and early 2000s, China began a push to change how it was seen globally. They used Africa as a testing ground, and by 2004 China had opened a local radio station in Nairobi — the first time they broadcasted locally via FM radio instead of long-wave.

DPHow has their presence changed since then?

DM: The digital era brought a complete transformation in China’s strategy. They established CGTN’s office in Nairobi, produced documentaries showcasing China’s positive impact on Africa, and highlighted significant projects like the Tanzania-Zambia Railway. They were smart about hiring local journalists and investing substantial resources to strengthen their digital presence.

By the 2010s, China shifted its approach. This led to more strategic moves: embedding content in local African media, forming partnerships with media outlets, and having Chinese diplomats take a more active role in public discourse. The real turning point was 2018-19 when their approach became more assertive. Instead of promoting China’s achievements, they actively challenged Western narratives, especially around issues like Hong Kong, Xinjiang, and Covid-19.

DP: What are some trends in China’s messaging that you’re now noticing?

DMM: In recent years, CGTN Africa has focused heavily on Africa, producing two hours of news daily. But there’s been a noticeable shift. While CGTN used to be somewhat more neutral and pragmatic in the early days, there’s now much more ideological content, especially around Xi Jinping and China’s global influence. They cover the US much more, but it’s usually pretty negative — highlighting flaws in American democracy and social issues. It’s not all global politics, though — CGTN Africa mostly sticks to regional matters, like the Sahel region or events in places like Niger and Mali.

China takes a unique approach to covering Africa: it almost always sides with the ruling party.

However, China takes a unique approach to covering Africa: it almost always sides with the ruling party. For example, when elections took place in Mozambique, China’s media congratulated the incumbent before the results were announced. There’s relatively little focus on opposition parties. And just like with other Chinese media, if the government wants a specific topic covered, it will push it.

KBC rebroadcasts CGTN’s Africa Live news bulletin. Photo: Dani Madrid Morales.

DP: Can you assess the impact of Chinese media in Africa? 

DMM: The impact of China’s media on Africa is complicated. In most African countries, China isn’t a topic in the daily press. It only becomes a focus when a significant event, like a controversy or a state visit. Before Covid-19, Chinese media barely had any presence in local news. After the pandemic hit, coverage exploded, but China’s day-to-day media impact is still minimal. People’s opinions on China tend to come from their personal interactions with Chinese workers or products — not from the media.

For example, during a trip to Kenya, I visited rural areas and asked locals about their views on China. The people had positive views, but it wasn’t because they were watching CGTN or Chinese films but primarily because of their experiences with Chinese workers building infrastructure or running small businesses. It’s the same with Chinese products — people recognize they are often low quality, influencing their opinion of China.

There are no permanent African correspondents in China… most news comes from agencies like Xinhua or Reuters, not local reporters.

Also, the media landscape makes a difference. There are no permanent African correspondents in China. So, most news comes from agencies like Xinhua or Reuters, not local reporters. This lack of local coverage means China isn’t a daily topic in the news. You might hear about the US or Europe, but China rarely makes the front page unless there’s something big going on.

DP: What about the impact of social media?

DMM: Social media does have an impact, but it’s mostly just for a small group of people — like young, urban folks who are somewhat educated. In places like South Sudan, only 10 percent of the population is online, so social media isn’t significant for most people. But it’s a different story in countries like Ghana or Kenya, where more people have smartphones. Social media, especially TikTok and YouTube, is more important for the younger crowd.

It’s hard to say how much social media directly changes people’s opinions. The big difference is that online spaces have more room for debate and controversy than traditional media, which tends to be controlled by those in power. Like, remember when Chinese businesspeople were accused of mistreating Zimbabweans? That went viral on social media, which wouldn’t have made the news otherwise. China’s getting better at handling these situations, though. 

But, honestly, there’s not a massive wave of anti-China sentiment in Africa. Sure, there are small pockets, but it’s pretty marginal. People aren’t talking about China in politics or elections. It just doesn’t come up much. Even if there’s some criticism online, it’s not a big deal. Most of the time, China’s pretty popular.

China is also good at subtly influencing things. CGTN, for example, will back up the government more than the opposition, but it’s not like they’re openly pressuring the media to shut down critical stories. It’s not like in Europe, where Chinese diplomats will put pressure on journalists to kill damaging stories. China’s influence in Africa is much more low-key, and public opinion stays positive.

‘Iron Brothers’ for the China Story

As its Chinese name, which literally translates as “Chinese enterprise,” suggests, Pakistan’s Huashang Weekly (华商报), is a publication aimed at Chinese businesspeople and other PRC expatriates in the South Asian country. Established in 2016, it is the only bilingual Chinese-English weekly officially licensed for circulation in Pakistan — a long-time PRC ally often called China’s “iron brother.” 

The offline and online weekly, which says it has a staff of both Chinese and Pakistani journalists, is helmed by editor-in-chief Zhu Jialei (朱家磊), who at the tender age of 26 was plucked out of Shanghai as a cub reporter to take charge of the newly formed publication. In accounts from official state media, Zhu is painted as a precocious adventurer, a “fresh recruit” who has “persevered in foreign lands.”

Zhu Jialei, the post-1990s youth brought over from China to run the Huashang Weekly in May 2017.

One profile has the hard-working editor struggling against Pakistani recalcitrance, noting that “the enthusiasm of local people for life is far greater than their passion for work,” while another notes with a hint of admiration that when he first arrived Zhu “knew nothing about running a newspaper overseas.”   

But tangled up with Zhu’s colorful personal adventure story in Pakistan — did we mention he was hospitalized within a week of his arrival? — are threads that tie Huashang Weekly to China’s larger state strategy for overseas media influence.

Iron Brothers 

The story of Huashang Weekly began in 2016, the year after the establishment of the “China-Pakistan Economic Corridor” (中巴经济走廊), a 15-year bilateral infrastructure initiative that pushed a wave of Chinese investors and laborers to the country. It made sense that the growing Chinese community would need a news and information outlet. And so, as one official account reported, Simon Geng (耿思萌), the former CEO of Huawei Pakistan, launched Huashang Weekly in July that year “under the support of the Chinese Embassy in Pakistan.” 

Despite his prior association with Huawei Pakistan, no information is available about Geng’s role at the telecoms giant or in the Chinese community there before the founding of his weekly newspaper. Geng is currently connected to at least six companies in China, including Shanghai Infoshare B2B (上海简享电子商务有限公司), a consultancy created in March 2016 that is now corporate headquarters for a global network of related firms. These include the Islamabad-based consultancy Infoshare, which helps Chinese investors and businesses in Pakistan — and publishes Huashang Weekly

As one official account reported, Simon Geng . . . launched Huashang Weekly “under the support of the Chinese Embassy in Pakistan.”

Another core member of the Infoshare and Huashang Weekly team is Derek Wang, deputy chief executive of the Islamabad consultancy, who set up shop in Pakistan in 2012. In 2017, Wang told CNN, “There’s a lot of curiosity amongst private Chinese investors about the potential in Pakistani markets.” He added that Huashang Daily had started to “[erase] the language barrier… so these investors can have an understanding of what’s happening in Pakistan.”

Wang’s comment draws a clear line between Huashang Daily and the bread-and-butter consulting work of Infoshare on the ground in Pakistan, particularly as Chinese investment in the country soared between 2015 and 2017. A case could certainly be made that Chinese business people urgently needed an outlet that could help them navigate a tough emerging market. And Huashang Weekly seemed to develop rapidly as a publication that could fill this gap — in two languages, no less — offering a bridge between the Chinese and Pakistani business communities.

Within two years, Huashang Weekly was distributing around 10,000 copies each week in major cities like Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad. In October 2017, just as Chinese FDI in the country was peaking (see the graph above), Infoshare forged a “strategic partnership” with Pakistan’s Jang Group of Newspapers, providing a weekly 1-2 page supplement in Chinese for their English-language daily The News, which boasts a daily circulation of 200,000 copies.

On LinkedIn, Infoshare describes itself as “a B2B [business-to-business] company, focusing on bridging the gap between investors and opportunities around the globe, with a specific focus towards the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor.” That focus is borne out on the pages of Huashang Weekly, which hosts a dedicated section on the 3,000 km infrastructure network project stretching from the snow-capped peaks at the PRC border down to the warm Arabian Sea.

But while the benefits for a consulting firm of having a newspaper under its umbrella are clear, a closer look at the content offered by Huashang Weekly complicates its role as a professional and credible information source. While the outlet claims to employ local as well as Chinese journalists, and says it provides “quick access to information about Pakistan,” its content skews heavily toward relaying the official narratives and perspectives of the Chinese state rather than providing the sort of original, on-the-ground reporting that might inform investors and businesses. 

A closer look at the content offered by Huashang Weekly complicates its role as a professional and credible information source.

One important reason for this lies in the newspaper’s second major partnership, signed in 2019 with the official China News Service (CNS), which since 2018 has been operated by the United Front Work Department (UFWD) — the primary department within the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) tasked with influencing elites and organizations outside the country, and especially Chinese diaspora communities. 

Deep Foundations

In September 2019, just one year after CNS was folded into the UFWD system, executives from the newswire visited the Huashang newsroom and signed a long-term cooperation agreement with the outlet. Visitors included Xia Chunping (夏春平), the deputy editor-in-chief of China News Service, who called Huashang Weekly a “bridge” between China and Pakistan that could serve the joint infrastructure corridor. Zhu Jialei, the weekly’s young editor-in-chief, said he hoped to “further deepen cooperation with the head office of CNS and relevant local branches.”

Xia Chunping, deputy EIC of the CCP’s China News Service, visits the newsroom of Pakistan’s Huashang Weekly in 2019. Source: CNS.

Today, the partnership with CNS has deepened to the extent that Huashang Weekly seems little more than a vehicle — a borrowed boat — for the state newswire’s external messaging about China and its unalloyed positives.

The vast majority of the content in Huashang Weekly, online and offline, comes not from its staff writers and translators, but directly from CNS and other sources — those “relevant local branches” Zhu spoke of — linked to the UFWD system. These branches include, for example, the Hong Kong China News Agency (HKCNA), whose coverage on this year’s Friendship Cities Conference appeared earlier this week on the Huashang Weekly website. HKCNA is controlled by the CCP’s Hong Kong and Macau Work Office, and maintains close ties with CNS.

This month, Huashang Weekly published a flurry of stories about the G20 Summit in Rio de Janeiro, where Chinese leader Xi Jinping met with Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva to deepen ties and hail a “new phase” in the relationship. Each one of these stories — focusing cheerily on mutual friendship and the “deep foundations for cooperation” — was attributed in its dateline to “Pakistan’s Huashang Weekly,” suggesting to readers that they were the work of newsroom staff. But each and every story was salted with references to CNS, making the real source clear to the eagle-eyed reader. 

Oddly, on the Huashang Weekly website, each story in this flood of China News Service content comes with a soft red disclaimer at the tail end: “For the record, this information has not been strictly verified, and does not represent the views of this site, which assumes no legal responsibility.” 

Who, then, is responsible for Huashang Weekly? Whose views are represented on the publication’s site? Like many news outlets operating across the world with the support of China’s diplomatic missions, Huashang Weekly is a complex intersection of private, commercial, and state interests — and a prime example of how the Chinese state works concertedly to map its DNA on Chinese communities everywhere to ensure that the views of no-one are truly represented beyond those of the leadership.

Whatever Infoshare’s real stake in this ostensibly community newspaper, it is clear that the CNS partnership with Huashang Weekly offers China a direct channel in Pakistan to “tell China’s story well” — even if the “iron brothers” disclaim all responsibility in the same breath.

Catching Predators in the County Government

The disturbing case of a 13-year-old in China who was raped and forced into prostitution — which first came to light in May this year — was back in the news this month, grabbing headlines also in Taiwan and Hong Kong. According to recent news on the case, the girl, identified in reports by the pseudonym “Li Xiaoxia” (李晓霞), was abused by 14 individuals, including three public officials. One of the latter is the deputy chairman of the local people’s congress in Hunan’s Xinhua County (新化縣), where the abuse occurred between April and July 2023. 

The news this month raised concerns about systemic flaws in sexual assault protections for children. Meanwhile, the involvement of public officials turned some attention to questions of government corruption and accountability in China, though online authorities have been keen to restrain open criticism. “How can the sentence for rape be so light,” one user asked on Weibo in a comment under a news post from Henan’s Dahe Daily (大河报). “Civil servants should be punished twice as much!” said another. “After all, they get twice the benefits from the state.”

Reports from official media in China, including Shanghai’s The Paper (澎湃), openly named the public officials implicated in the abuse, while others involved were identified only by their surnames — suggesting an interest in highlighting official malfeasance. Among the officials was Gong Haodong (龚昊东), who only a half year ago was selected as vice-chairman of the People’s Congress in Youxi Township (油溪乡). Back in May, the primary offender in the case — a 17-year-old who had previously forced Li into prostitution — was handed a sentence of more than nine years in prison. The penalties for the other adult defendants ranged from three to four and a half years. 

A screenshot of comments left on Weibo after posts related to the Li Xiaoxia case. The second comment asks: “Shouldn’t a bunch of people who raped a child be given a heavier sentence?” 

The news made headlines all across Chinese-language media, with Taiwan and Hong Kong abundantly reporting on the case. In Hong Kong, the online newspaper HK01 (香港01) wrote an extensive report about the case.

As Chinese media seem keen to highlight odious official conduct at the lowest levels, it bears remembering on the issue of sexual harassment that international Chinese tennis star Peng Shuai (彭帅) was forcibly disappeared in November 2021 after she accused former vice-premier Zhang Gaoli (张高丽) of pressuring her into sex. The phenomenon of going after small-time officials while leaving high-level officials untouched is referred to in Chinese as “swatting at flies and letting the tigers run free.”   

Reading Red on Cross-Strait Relations

Last week in Beijing, more than 80 scholars and officials attended a grand ceremony to drive home the simple point that Taiwan is an inalienable part of China. The event centered on a new book by Taiwanese author Fan Wenyi (范文议) whose title read like a brawling challenge — Who Says Taiwan is Not Part of China? (谁说台湾不是中国的). According to state media coverage, Fan’s book, which makes the case for reunification, will have “a positive significance in enhancing mutual understanding and trust between compatriots on both sides of the Taiwan Straits.” 

But a deeper dive behind the headlines pushing this supposedly inspirational book turns up more questions than answers.

The Beijing event, splashed across a number of official media outlets, including the central government’s China Daily and the website of its Taiwan Affairs Office, is in fact a typical case study in how China rolls out propaganda campaigns through a combination of party-state linked activities and state-backed media publicity. Organizations and individuals, like “Taiwanese author Fan Wenyi,” are trotted out as personal and intellectual actors, emerging with their own voices from Chinese civil society. A closer look and these staged events unravel, revealing the party-state actors and agendas just behind.

Fan Who? . . . and What Book? 

While PRC media coverage presents “Professor Fan Wenyi” as a known scholar born in the city of Hualien in eastern Taiwan, virtually no information is available about the man, pictured by the China Youth Daily, China News Service and others as an elderly man in glasses, wearing an oversized gray suit. Aside from a smattering of official media mentions prior to this book launch — like this quote in the Chinese government’s own Taiwan.cn — Fan Wenyi seems to be a nobody. Last week’s coverage explains that Fan’s mother was an active member of literary societies during the Japanese colonial era in Taiwan, and that she instilled in him a sense of his fundamental Chineseness. But the scholarship of this “research scholar” is nowhere to be found. Nor is it clear where he was ever a professor. And yet, audiences are meant to be moved by his authoritative declaration: “I am Taiwanese, and I am also Chinese.” 

“Taiwanese author Fan Wenyi” takes the stage this month to promote his new book.

On the question of audience, the even odder fact is that Fan’s book, launched with so much fanfare within a week of Taiwan’s national day holiday (which a stage version taller than a human being), is apparently available nowhere. For starters, bookstores and suppliers in Taiwan, including the well-known Eslite, do not carry the book at all. Even on Douban (豆瓣), China’s popular domestic online book supplier, there is no whiff of Fan’s work. The only online source — oddly for a book meant to “enhance mutual understanding” on both sides of the Taiwan Straits — appears to be Amazon Singapore, where the book is “currently unavailable.” 

A Civil Society Front

The Beijing event was co-sponsored by the Beijing Taiwan Compatriots Association (北京市台湾同胞联谊会), which describes itself as “a patriotic popular organization of Taiwan compatriots in Beijing,” along with two presses specializing in Taiwan-related publications, the Jiuzhou Press (九州出版社) and the Taihai Press (台海出版社). Unpack these entities and you quickly realize what should be obvious to the critical reader from the start — that they are arms of the party-state, serving its agenda on Taiwan. 

Search for a copy of Fan Wenyi’s (范文议) Who Says Taiwan is Not Part of China? and you come up empty handed at major online books sales platforms in both China and Taiwan.

In fact, the Beijing Taiwan Compatriots Association is directly under the control of the Beijing Municipal Committee of the CCP, the senior provincial-level leadership in China’s capital city. The group is led by Zheng Jianmin (郑建闽), who was a top official in Fujian province from 2018-2022, but who claims to be from Taipei.

The first of the presses listed, the Jiuzhou Press, is according to corporate records in China 100 percent controlled by China’s State Council. Meanwhile, the second press, Taihai, is run by an organization called the Taiwan Democratic Self-Government League (台湾民主自治同盟). While this group may sound democratic, it clearly states that it is “an intimate friendship party that accepts the leadership of the CCP and cooperates with the CCP to the fullest extent.” In records for its website registration, the League is identified unambiguously as a “government organ.”

This pattern of cloaked official associations in China’s rolling out of strategic agendas, hyped at the same time by state-run media groups such as China Daily, is one repeated as the country pursue what it calls external propaganda (外宣) on a global scale. It is a pattern we documented closely earlier this year looking at how China seeks to impact the human rights debate at the United Nations — and on its sidelines.

At times, as in the Fan Wenyi case, China’s efforts can seem almost humorously disconnected from those they seek to influence. But their impact is also difficult to determine as they are happening on a scale never before seen in the global information space. The story of Fan’s book did manage to reach Hong Kong, though chiefly through another CCP-led outlet, Ta Kung Wen Wei (大公文匯網), and it played across other online platforms like Sohu.com, where it stands a chance of reaching broader Chinese-language audiences across Asia and around the world.

And what of Fan Wenyi’s book? Could it impact readers in Taiwan? That is far less likely. As large as the book loomed — quite literally — in official PRC news coverage, it is so far absent from the shelves. For China’s leadership, as it seeks greater global influence on core strategic issues like the status of Taiwan, that fact may be entirely beside the point.

Divorcing China from Wedding Humiliation

Late last month, media across China reported on the latest incident of harassment directed at a newlywed bride — a practice known in China as “wedding hazing” (婚闹). The news story was prompted by the surfacing on September 25 of a video showing a woman in Shanxi province tied to a telephone pole, crying for help while bystanders failed to intervene. The footage quickly went viral, igniting outrage — and prompting widespread debate about the lines between custom, decency and legality in modern Chinese society.

A screenshot from the video of the latest “wedding hazing” incident in China’s Shanxi province.

Chinese Business View (华商报), a commercial newspaper from Shaanxi province, managed to reach a certain “Mr. Yang” who had taken the video in question and posted it to social media. Yang said the incident had happened around midday on September 23 in the Digou Community (底沟社区) in the prefectural-level city of Yangquan in Shanxi province. He defended the actions shown in the video. “When weddings happen making a bit of a fuss, that’s our local custom,” he said. “It’s all good friends together. It’s not as netizens say, that anyone is getting hurt.”

In a subsequent report, Yangquan Daily (阳泉日报), the local CCP-run daily newspaper in Yangquan, reported that community personnel had investigated the case and found that the scene shown in the video was part of a pre-arranged “game” (游戏) arranged for the bride and groom as part of wedding festivities. The report said that those involved in the antics were “deeply sorry for the negative impact [the video] created.”

But even in the face of these rationalizations, many Chinese did not find the incident funny, or accept the suggestion that it had all been good-spirited fun. An article on the incident posted to the Sohu.com web portal said that abusive behavior at odds with contemporary values was often being rationalized “under the banner of ‘consent'” (“征得同意”的旗号下). The article spoke of the progressive “alienation” (异化) and “abuse” (滥用) of culture and customs. “True wedding celebrations should enhance joy and convey blessings,” it said, “not be used to satisy the lurid curiosity of some, or to vent personal desires.”

Even in the face of these rationalizations, many Chinese did not find the incident funny, or accept the suggestion that it had all been good-spirited fun.

“Resist the evil custom of wedding hazing, uphold civilized wedding ceremonies!”

In another commentary shared by several outlets, including the official Xinhua News Agency, the day after the video prompted a wave of online anger, Guangming Online (光明网) called the incident an example of “vulgar behavior” (低俗行为). No such acts should be tolerated, it said, regardless of whether or not the bride and groom had consented on the grounds that this was a local custom.

In a recent article, The Paper (澎湃) shared a series of graphics condemning “the evil custom of wedding hazing” and calling for “civilized wedding ceremonies.” The Shanghai-based outlet also suggested ways to avoid participating in or becoming a victim to hazing rituals, ranging from gentle dissuasion to legal recourse. It also recommends that victims of “wedding hazing” seek professional psychiatric help to recover.

Ritual Humiliation

“Wedding hazing” is a long-standing cultural tradition in China. Historical texts from the Eastern Han dynasty (25-220 AD) recount crude and sometimes violent customs, including physical assaults on both brides and grooms. In the past, this served to break the ice between the bride and groom — often strangers until their wedding day —  and to create a jovial atmosphere. Today, acts of “wedding hazing” can also become social media memes, exposing individuals of all genders to online harassment as they are coerced into partaking in these humiliating acts. 

In 2021, The Paper compiled several of the most egregious examples of “wedding hazing” from the past two decades, including shocking acts of violence disguised as tradition. In 2016, for example, a nearly naked groom in Yunnan was tied to a tree, then doused with ink and pelted with eggs by his groomsmen. In such cases, according to The Paper’s critical appraisal, “wedding hazing” serves as an excuse for abusive behavior rather than a genuine cultural practice.

“Tying someone to a pole is a tradition I cannot support.”

The cruel September incident in Shanxi — available here, but not for the faint of heart — has rekindled concern and shock among China’s netizens and media outlets, with many suggesting the custom must be ended. “Tying someone to a pole is a tradition I cannot support,” said one user commenting online. “The bride looks utterly miserable,” said another. Dezhou Daily (德州日报), a CCP-affiliated local newspaper in Shandong province, said on September 27 that society as a whole must take action to abolish this custom. The paper called on all segments of society to “advocate for new ways to celebrate weddings,” emphasizing that each individual has a role in fostering change.