Author: David Bandurski

Now Executive Director of the China Media Project, leading the project’s research and partnerships, David originally joined the project in Hong Kong in 2004. He is the author of Dragons in Diamond Village (Penguin), a book of reportage about urbanization and social activism in China, and co-editor of Investigative Journalism in China (HKU Press).

The high-wire of Party politics


Following chatter by Chinese internet users in late November, Chinese media reported that a 26-year-old woman who has been dubbed “the most county leader in history” is now serving as the top Party leader in Hubei’s Jiangling County (江陵县). The young cadre, born in 1985 and graduating from college in 2008, reportedly stepped right into a Party leadership position in Jiangling upon graduation and was promoted four time within four years. The story has raised suspicions about the young Party secretary’s political connections and possible corruption. In this cartoon, posted by Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, the young female Party leader, juggling several official caps, rids a unicycle across a high-wire as perplexed ordinary Chinese look on.

Reading culture in the People's Daily

Unpacking China’s latest policies on cultural reform, which emerged from October’s sixth plenum of the 17th Central Committee of the CCP, will be a process of many months. The October “Notice” on cultural reform is not so much a coherent program of cultural development as a mess of politics, ideology and commercial interests. And the Party’s own attempts to explain what these changes mean lead only to more befuddlement.
Take, for example, today’s edition of the Party’s official People’s Daily. While articles on cultural reform are scattered throughout the paper, page seven offers a series of pieces with the stated goal of “exploring methods of transition and development for the cultural industries.” 


The first piece in the series, “Breaking Through Deep Issues in the Development of Culture Industries,” comes from the Hebei Province Research Center for the Theoretical System of Socialism with Chinese Characteristics. Here is the center’s introduction:

In a modern society, culture and the economy grow together into one with each passing day. Owing to various regional, industry and administrative lines, our country’s cultural industries have not only suffered the limitation of their own development, but the support of and drive for economic and social development in a larger sense has not been fully brought into play [as a result]. Therefore, various regions and industries should, in the forming and implementation of cultural reform and development planning, set their eyes on cooperative development, united development, breaking through . . . [the situation] of the backwardness of cultural development relative to the economic development.

Readers hoping for specifics are rewarded instead with more generalities. The article says that achieving cross-regional and cross-industry cultural industry development requires “the strengthening of top-level design, innovating the systems and mechanisms for cultural construction.”
The objectives broadly defined in this article seem valid enough. China must move toward greater innovation. Indeed. China must transition from a “made in China” model to a “created in China” model. Sure.

While there are many reasons for the emergence of “shanzai culture” [in China], on one level it can illustrate the loss of impetus for innovation and creation in the cultural industries. At the moment, our culture industries lag behind the overall economy and society in terms of innovation and creativity, and this has restrained the development of the culture industries as well as economic and social development. Fostering the impulse for creativity and innovation has become . . . a strategic focus and urgent task in the cultural and also social and economic development. Realizing the leap from “made in China” and “assembled in China” to “created in China” and “brand China” requires a salient emphasis on innovation consciousness (创新意识) and creative thinking (创造思维), making innovation and creativity the leading and driving forces of cultural industry development. [This means] strengthening the protection of intellectual property and creating a social environment that respects knowledge, respects talent, respect work and respects innovation. [This means] strengthening the position of creativity and innovation in the cultural service value chain, raising the quality and effectiveness of acts of innovation and creativity.

But how do you drive home a “salient emphasis on innovation consciousness and creative thinking” and nurture “the impulse for creativity and innovation” without relaxing the political and ideological environment in which people create in the first place? This, as I’ve stressed before, is the fundamental blind-spot of China’s cultural reforms.
How do you create “a social environment that respects knowledge” and innovation when the fundamental law on culture is the Party’s, the demand that culture “follow the correct political orientation” as spelled out in the October “Decision” on cultural reforms?
The paragraph above also talks about the “quality and effectiveness” of innovation and creativity. But what are the metrics for quality and effectiveness? Who decides what is quality and what is effective? Who gets to allocate resources on that basis?
The second article in the series begins with an assessment of the need for more cultural production on the basis of broader trends in economic growth:

In step with our country’s economic development and rising household incomes, the spiritual [or “non-material” = “cultural”] consumer demand of the people has steadily expanded, and this has promoted the emergence of cultural and creative industries. In the past few years, the cultural and creative industries in our country have developed rapidly, and the scope of development has expanded from several large cities like Beijing and Shanghai to principal cities throughout the country.

How will China now meet this rising demand? The article states confidently that “many major cities have placed great priority on cultural innovation and industry development, and have gained clear results.” 

The city of Shanghai has raised the concept of ‘innovation industrialized and industry innovated’; the city of Nanjing has raised [the idea of] ‘making it such that every person’s creativity is encouraged, that every good creation has the opportunity to be marketed (市场化) and industrialized (产业化), and that every creator receives effective institutional support and favorable policy support’; the city of Guangzhou has raised [the concept of] ‘grabbing hold of the animation industry just [as it has] the automotive industry’; the city of Shenzhen has talked about building ‘the capital of innovative design; etcetera.  

So the Party everywhere is talking about innovation. That’s no surprise, of course. They have little choice given that innovation has become the preeminent Party buzzword. And what about action? The article goes on to mention other specific measures, such as a pilot project offering tax reductions for cultural enterprises in Beijing, investment in the building of “cultural industry accumulation areas” (产业聚集区) — culture industry parks, that is — and working with banks to encourage loans to “cultural innovation enterprises” (文化创意企业). 
I may seem to some to be belaboring this point, but there is an ongoing tension here between the “material” of hoped-for culture and the “spirit” of innovation. “Cultural industry accumulation areas” and loans for “cultural innovation enterprises” are all well and good. But the assumption seems to be that people will be innovating simply because these loans and parks exist. And there is that nagging question about the “social environment” for innovation alluded to in the first article in the People’s Daily series. Can you talk about innovation without talking about freedom? Whether you can or not, China is doing just that.
Nor can the discussion of cultural development escape the ideological conditioned response of defining Chinese cultural creation in opposition to the West — and thereby unnecessarily restricting its meaning and twisting its purpose. Who is going to decide whether innovations are sufficiently “Chinese”?
A third article on page 7 of the People’s Daily urges that policy making on cultural development take into account the uniqueness of the Chinese condition:  

The writer believes that every country’s cultural industries have their own soil on which they live and their own conditions that give them full scope. Departing from definite historical conditions and social environments, the development modes of cultural industries must change. Therefore, in setting down policies for the cultural industries, while the advanced experiences of developed Western nations should be adopted, we cannot apply or mechanically copy development modes . . .

So innovation is great, but China has to make sure that whatever innovation it gets is Chinese enough.
This prerogative of “Chineseness” leads us to another of the bewildering contradictions in this push for cultural reform. As I said at the outset, this policy is a mess. So perhaps it shouldn’t surprise us that the top-down push to create innovative culture that is quintessentially Chinese also maintains as its “guiding principle” the political tenets of a 19th century German philosopher.
An article in the People’s Daily series addressing the “need to thoroughly leverage the capacity of [China’s] excellent traditional culture” offers the following proviso for cultural industry development:

“[We must] adhere to the correct development direction. In bringing traditional culture into [overall] cultural industry development, we must adhere to Marxism as the guiding principle, keeping to the tenets of serving the people and serving socialism . . . ”

Zhu Huaxin

Currently secretary at People’s Daily Online’s Public Opinion Monitoring Center and editor of the journal Online Public Opinion, Zhu Huaxin (祝华新) served as a reporter for the CCP’s official People’s Daily from 1986 to 2000. He is the author of numerous articles and reports on public opinion, agenda-setting, the internet and social media in China.

Clamming up on OGI


The Beijing News reported on November 30 that a woman from the city of Suzhou named only as “Ms. Wang” recently filed a lawsuit against China’s Ministry of Land and Resources after her request for access to information on a highway construction project under China’s 2008 National Ordinance on Open Government Information (政府信息公开条例) was denied. The case shows the immense difficulties facing citizens in China who attempt to use the open government information (OGI) legislation to monitor the government. The 2008 ordinance specifies that government agencies much keep logs of all available records, defines a range of areas where citizens are ostensibly allowed access to information, and defines the procedures by which citizens can apply for access to government information. In this cartoon, posted by artist Shang Haichun (商海春) to his blog at QQ.com, an ordinary citizen hopelessly tries to raise a huge bottle-opener labeled “open information” to the sealed mouth of a larger-than-life government official.

Who's paying for the public welfare on TV?

It’s been a busy year for China’s broadcast authority, the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT), which has made it its mission to shake up the already messy world of Chinese television. The body’s latest action, formally announced yesterday, is to ban the insertion of advertising in popular television dramas.
Back in July this year, SARFT held a “discussion forum” to address the issue of “entertainment excessiveness” in Chinese television programming, giving bosses from various provincial television networks an ostensible opportunity to offer their views on new restrictions that already seemed a foregone conclusion. The entertainment programming ban, known in China by the shorthand xian yu ling (限娱令), finally came in September and took effect in October. It forced television stations to broadcast “entertainment programs” (娱乐节目) no more than three times a week during prime time (5-10pm).
The latest SARFT ban on advertising in television dramas expressly prohibits the interruption of dramas with ads, but does not prevent broadcasters from airing advertisements before and after dramas, or from placing paid-for plugs directly into the dramas themselves. There are some ambiguities here that could lead to interesting cheats or workarounds from television broadcasters, something we’ll come to later.


[ABOVE: Today’s frontpage at the commercial Dongguan Times makes the latest SARFT ban the leading story. Strips of film labeled “advertising” are crossed into an X with a pair of scissors. The headline: “Ban on [ad] insertion. SARFT: Beginning next year TV dramas can’t insert ads.” The paper reports estimated losses to the TV sector by the move at 20 billion yuan, or 3.1 billion US dollars.]
But behind a swarm of questions like, “Will the rule kill off advertising revenues in the television sector?” and “Will broadcasters find a way to sneak around the rule?”, there looms a far more basic question: Why?
Why, indeed.
The ready answer seems to be that SARFT is putting its regulatory muscle where the Party’s mouth is on the broader issue of “cultural reforms.” To recap, the main theme at the recent plenary session of the Party’s 17th Central Committee was the building of a new cultural vibrancy in China through what was billed as a concerted process of cultural reform. In the Party’s formulation, this policy would bring a windfall of global “soft power” for China and give China the non-material confidence to stand strong “in the forest of nations.”
The talk of “cultural renewal” at the meeting came with a whole set of political and ideological imperatives. And superficially at least, it seems that SARFT is now muscling in on the television sector with some of these imperatives under its arm.
First of all, the “Notice” coming out of the October plenum said culture had to “uphold the main theme” and adhere to “correct guidance of public opinion,” both code for towing the Party’s political line. Further, the “Notice” stressed that “Marxism must be upheld as the guiding principle” of cultural reforms carried out “with the ideological armor of socialism with Chinese characteristics.” This would ensure cultural reforms “moved in the correct [political] direction.”
More directly relevant to this ad-related ban, however, the “Notice” defined “the building of a public culture service system” (公共文化服务体系) as one of the chief goals of cultural reforms. In yesterday’s official notice from SARFT, “actively developing cultural work in the public welfare” as prioritized at the recent sixth plenum is given as justification for the ban on advertising. The idea, basically, is that advertisements pollute the public welfare value of the television space, and removing them from television dramas is a service to the Chinese public.
Some members of the public have understood the ban in exactly this way. Internet user Yan Ni (燕妮) wrote on her weblog today:

The public opinion power of ordinary people is pretty substantial. The new SARFT regulations have surfaced, and beginning January 2012 advertisements can’t be inserted into television dramas. This gives the audience back a harmonious and efficient television environment. The hopes of ordinary people have been answered. This is a good thing, a very good thing.”

This of course is a fair initial reaction from the sofa. But there are important institutional, economic, practical and, yes, political questions that are left hanging by this SARFT action and its public service justification.
The section of October’s “Notice” that deals with “building a public culture service system” states that “public welfare cultural units” will form the “backbone” of this project, “supported by public financing.” The same section also talks about “employing government procurement, project subsidies, direct subsidies, interest subsidies, tax reduction and other policy measures” to “encourage various cultural firms to participate in public culture service.” Clearly, providing state funding for public welfare programming is one thing, and forcing public welfare programming standards on commercially operating enterprises is another.
This begs the question of the exact institutional nature of the television networks that will be impacted by the SARFT policy. Since the 1990s, media in China have been weaned off government support and encouraged to commercialize. In a competitive national market, they have been forced to fight for ad dollars, a fight for their survival. But the Party of course maintains the Party nature of all media in China, which is to say that there are no truly “independent” media even if the vast majority of Chinese media today have become financially independent.
So are these television networks “public welfare institutions”? Or are they for-profit entities? The answer is that they are neither and both, a question that Wei Yingjie (魏英杰) addressed yesterday at the Economic Observer:

. . . [T]he rationality and feasibility of the ‘advertising ban’ policy remain in question. In terms of the policy itself, SARFT can of course issue this or that regulation given that it is the department that overseas broadcast television nationwide. But the question of whether or not the policy is rational is a matter of whether or not it accommodates the industry’s own laws of development. So we have to make clear: are mainland television stations ultimately public welfare institutions or are they for-profit institutions? The answer is that mainland television stations are not purely public welfare institutions, nor are they entirely marketized institutions. Rather, they are compounds of both.

The core question, then, is this. Who is paying for the “public welfare” mandate? And for that matter, who is paying for the cultural reforms trumpeted so loudly at October’s meeting?
Wei sums it up like this: “The issue is really simple. Mainland television stations do not rely on fiscal appropriations to survive, and so they must be permitted to go and find sustenance in the marketplace.” It’s entirely unreasonable, he suggests, to expect profit-driven television stations to take a hit for “public welfare” without the government stepping up with its pocketbook — and arguably goes against the “spirit” of the Party’s October “Notice”, which indicates that public financing will support the so-called “public culture service system” that is the core justification of the SARFT action.
Here is Wei Yingjie again:

This means that while administrative departments [like SARFT] can demand that television stations at various levels have a great public welfare quality about them, the government must finance these stations, otherwise there is no reason to inhibit the television stations in carrying out commercial activities.

“Who’s paying for this?” seems a most basic question that neither SARFT nor the Party leaders who presumably back this decision have cared to think about. On page nine of the CCP’s official People’s Daily today, Zhang He (张贺) praises the SARFT action, saying that television viewers have been “held ransom” by advertisements. He concludes with staggering blindness: “I hope television stations won’t focus too much on the short-term impact of the ban on inserting advertisements and will take a longer view, putting their energies into raising their own core competitiveness, constantly creating various unique and excellent content resources.” Pray tell, Zhang, how will these television stations pay for the “unique” and “excellent” programs you imagine populating this idealistic future?
There also seems to be a serious disconnect in the SARFT action between problem assessment and policy prescription. This can be glimpsed again in Zhang He’s editorial, where he argues that while people do not object to “reasonable advertising,” “the values of some television broadcast units have gone seriously awry, and they care more about economic benefit than the public welfare.” Admitting that “some” stations might have behaved excessively, where is the rationale then for banning all ads at all stations?
Further, the inconsistent and apparently unfair application of this public welfare standard calls into question the motives at the very core. Zhang He writes in People’s Daily about advertisements on television dramas “harming the normal viewing rights of the masses.” But what about advertisements inserted into news programming in China? Isn’t that serious too?
A report on the SARFT action at China Enterprise Online today quoted Beijing Huayuan Group CEO Ren Zhiqiang (任志强) as saying: “Why aren’t they limiting the insertion of advertisements in news programming? It seems that a lot of advertisements are still being inserted into a lot of [news] programs like Diyi Shijian [on CCTV 2]. We should treat all equally without discrimination. Every one is equal under the law, you know.”
It is of course a further hypocrisy to righteously defend the right of the Chinese public to be free from advertising during television dramas when there is, too put it gingerly, an insufficient respect for the public’s right to know. Shouldn’t public welfare programming begin by safeguarding the accuracy of news and information in the public interest? This point was made in a backhand fashion by Wang Ran (王冉), the CEO of China eCapital Corporation, again at China Enterprise Online. In reference to China’s official nightly newscast, which is stacked with propaganda about top Party leaders, Wang remarked: “I hope that some day Xinwen Lianbo too will stop its 30-minute advertising insertion.” Wang was of course referring to the news program itself, one big advertisement for top Party leaders.
Beyond the issue of whether these new measures are reasonable or even at their core really about the public welfare, there is the question of whether they will have the intended effect at all. Internet users and commentators are already speculating about how television stations will get around the rules. Many people have suggested, for example, that the rules will result in a flood of product placements in television dramas themselves — arguably more insidiously damaging to the public welfare. Another countermeasure to the rules might be to divide dramas into segments, allowing stations to justify placing ads before and after and argue that they were not actually “inserted.”
Finally, what other unintended effects will these rules — which, of course, deal only with television — have in a changing information terrain, where the Internet and social media are increasingly encroaching on the television space anyhow? One answer comes from ChinaEquity International Holding Co. Ltd. CEO Wang Chaoyong (汪潮涌): “All these various bans from the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television are just marginalizing the whole television sector and actively promoting the development of the internet and mobile media.”

Hong Kong visa held up for veteran editor

According to a report in yesterday’s Ming Pao Daily, an application for a Hong Kong work visa by veteran Chinese journalist Zhang Ping (张平), generally known by the penname Chang Ping (长平), has been held up for eight months by the Immigration Department, raising concerns that his application might be subject to political interference by Chinese authorities.
Chang, a well-known Chinese commentary writer who was formerly a top editor at both Southern Weekend and Southern Metropolis Daily, was offered a position at Hong Kong’s Sun TV in March this year and filed a visa application under Hong Kong’s Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals. Visas under the scheme generally require no more than four weeks to process, but reportedly neither Chang nor his would-be employer have received notice of acceptance or denial.
“I have asked them [the Immigration Department] about it, and they simply say that [my application] is under review,” Chang was quoted by the paper as saying.
Chinese authorities recently blocked internet access on the mainland to an online magazine published by Sun TV that Chang Ping was expected to head up as chief editor.

The tragedy of a corrupt civil service

EDITOR’S NOTE: As civil service examinations have been underway in China this month, discussion in China’s media has turned to such issues as discrimination in testing and what record exam attendance says about politics and opportunity in the country. When written testing began last Sunday in Anhui province, more than 100,000 candidates scrambled for the opportunity to fill just 5,352 civil service vacancies. In the following editorial, Zhang Ming thinly masks a point about the political backwardness reflected in the popularity of civil service exams with a discussion of officialdom in Chinese history.
For many years now in China, launching off on a career in officialdom has been a dream cherished by the social elite. “Against learning, all else is of inferior quality,” the emperor once said, and lingering behind this sentiment was the idea that learning was the path to serving the official court. Of course, in ancient times the threshold for serving as an official was extremely high, and whether a post was obtained through recommendation by this or that dignitary or through success in taking the civil service examination, the process was grueling. Added to this was the fact that there were a fixed number of official positions, so even pulling strings was no use unless one had some sort of special dispensation from the emperor himself. All of this meant that officials were bigwigs, and they were few and far between.
By the end of the dynastic period in China, however, things were different, as the official court became divorced from its own principles. The late Qing dynasty was a prime example. The official examination had long been part and parcel of officialdom in China, but in the chaos of the Taiping Uprising, the imperial government found itself in desperate need of cash, and all you had to do was open up your purse to get an official’s cap on your head. There was a flood of official caps being offered, and even though official quotas weren’t raised people were lining up to pay for reserve positions (候补官) in the provinces, waiting in the wings for an opportunity.
Buying your way into an Intendant of Circuit position (道台) was no problem — if you forked out enough money and had sufficient contacts to back you up, you could work your way in before too long. Getting a prefectural magistracy was possible too. At most you would have to wait three to five years to get there.
But county magistracies and various assistant positions were tough to get into, and without the right connections you could wait eight or ten years without any luck. The people paying for a chance to get into these posts were all middling types, even from insignificant families. Many of this ilk had even borrowed money to get onto the waiting lists, with the idea of paying back their loans with interest once they had nabbed an official post to profit from. But some wasted away the years without even seeing an opportunity come along, barely able to keep food on the table.
Demand generated supply. Many on the official waiting lists didn’t have the ready cash to get in by the back door, so a whole industry emerged to supply loans to officials in waiting. These people would issue loans to waiting officials, providing them with the cash they needed to get a foot in the door.
These loans didn’t need to be repaid, but the issuers staked a claim to private advisory roles in fiscal and secretarial matters within the official yamen, particularly those clerical positions that were most lucrative, so that they could themselves earn back the principals they had loaned out.
As for these clerk positions, those officials who had posts by paying their way in through the reserve system had no say whatsoever. Those high-level officials who had the say in giving you your post, a commissioner, governor or viceroy, would always have their own people to recommend to you, and you had not choice but to accept them. Because these clerks too were on the make.
So as soon as you were settled in your official post, after a year, or three to five years at the most, those clerks recommended to you had to be used as they were lined up before you. If it was really impossible to make use of someone’s services, then you had to at the very least offer them a sinecure. Those officials in waiting who had no money to work with and who wouldn’t borrow the funds necessary to buy their way into the system could only await death in the provincial capital, freezing to death if not starving.
It goes without saying that these reserve officials had to repay their own expenses as well, and pay back what they borrowed. With such a hefty need to dredge up money as soon as they nabbed their positions, one can easily imagine how well they served as officials. Even if an official imagined they could act with principal this was completely impossible. So official corruption in the late Qing dynasty reached a level of rottenness that was impossible to turn back. At root this was because China at the time — although there was the minimal impact of the self-strengthening movement — was still a traditional society, where workers, peasants, scholars and merchants could never profit as well as officials could.
If Chinese merchants didn’t cozy up to Westerners they cozied up to government officials. In the long run, the advantages incurred by merchants paled against those enjoyed by officials. In sum, it was a system in which officials had the upper hand in all things.
After political reforms to the Qing court [before the fall of the dynasty] things were somewhat improved. There were more opportunities, and not just for officials. Schools could be run as businesses. Scholars could engage in business, or could teach — and if that didn’t work out, they could always join the army. Below the county level there were autonomous organizations, various chambers of commerce, institutes and peasants associations, all of which needed capable people. More importantly, there was the media, and there were civic organizations, so officials big and small who had a mind to indulge in corrupt practices now faced greater risk.
Unfortunately, political reforms were short-lived. After the Xinhai Revolution, the state of affairs in which officials had the upper hand was never fundamentally changed. When the door to officialdom is no longer so crowded, China will be that much closer to becoming a modern nation.
This is a translated and edited version of an article appearing in the November 19 edition of The Beijing News.

Blind Repression


In October and November 2011, an online campaign gathered pace in China around the case of blind lawyer and human rights activist Chen Guangcheng (陈光诚), who has been kept under house arrest at his home in Linyi, Shandong province, since his release from prison in late 2010. Chinese internet users and activists who attempted to visit Chen Guangcheng in response to online calls for action were harassed by local police and thugs. In late October, US Representative Chris Smith, chairman of the Congressional Executive Commission on China, said a congressional trip to Linyi to visit Chen was being planned. The AFP quoted Smith as saying that US lawmakers “desperately hope” Chen is still alive. Smith was subsequently denied a visa to visit China. In this cartoon, posted by artist Kuang Biao (邝飚) to his blog at QQ.com, chains of oppression dripping with blood knot around a pair of dark sunglasses, symbolic of the blind lawyer Chen Guangcheng. The cartoon was drawn for the occasion of Chen Guangcheng’s 40th birthday on November 12.

A chilling tale for Journalists Day

Today, November 8, is International Journalists Day, and a number of Chinese media have marked the holiday — but none perhaps so forcefully as China Youth Daily, a newspaper published by the Communist Youth League of China.
China Youth Daily, which has been known for its strong professional reporting tradition since the 1980s, tells the story in today’s edition of Fujian television journalist Deng Cunyao (邓村尧), who was brutally attacked on October 18, 2010, while leaving his office, in what was apparently a reprisal for critical reporting.
The assailant, riding a red motorbike and covering his face, drove up behind Deng and hacked at his left leg with a large knife. Deng, a producer at Fujian’s Longyan Television Station, recalled to the China Youth Daily reporter: “I wanted to run, but my leg had been broken by the slash, and I fell.”
As Deng screamed for help, the assailant turned and hacked at Deng’s right leg. Unable to stand, Deng watched as the assailant fled on his motorbike.
The China Youth Daily report explores the Deng Cunyao case in detail, including the threats facing his family. We do not translate the report here, but encourage readers of Chinese to take the time.
China Youth Daily apparently timed the release of the report for today. Here is our translation of the editor’s note:

Today is November 8, Journalists Day. We publish this chilling report today in order to pay our respects to those colleagues in journalism who are struggling on the front lines of watchdog journalism, and in order to tell the public: when journalists are beaten, when they suffer knife attacks, this is not only an injustice to the journalists themselves, or to their news units — it is an injustice to the popular will and to the public interest. Journalists represent the will of the public and the conscience of society. When we face difficulty, what we need most of all is your support.

The term “watchdog journalism” here is in Chinese “supervision by public opinion“, or yulun jiandu (舆论监督). The term, first mentioned at a senior leadership level in China in Zhao Ziyang’s political report in 1987, remains one of the officially recognized forms of power monitoring in China. But the term has now also become a rallying cry for professional journalists in China, and in particular for investigative reporters. For a more detailed treatment of this issue please refer to our book Investigative Journalism in China.
In an opinion piece posted online today in response to the case exposed by China Youth Daily, Yu Deqing (于德清) wrote:

Today many journalists have a deep sense of powerlessness. This kind of powerlessness very often comes from repeated obstruction in carrying out supervision by public opinion, comes from the way professional journalism values are constantly under attack in the real world. And in many cases, obstacles in carrying out monitoring pale in comparison to the harm caused by their powerlessness in protecting the safety of their own family members. This places journalists in a moral dilemma — if you can’t even protect your own family members, how can you even begin to talk about the power of monitoring, about protecting social fairness and the interests of the social underclasses?”

Du Daozheng on China's past and future

Now that the sixth plenary session of the 17th Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party is history — see our coverage of so-called cultural system reforms announced at the meeting — it’s time to begin looking ahead to next year’s 18th National Party Congress, which will mark a critical transition in China’s top leadership. So much seems bewildering about China’s closed and secretive political system. But we’ll do our best to shed some light on the messy process in a series of posts in coming months.
In a post later this month we’ll discuss the issue of leadership selection and so-called “intra-party democracy” in China, and the (for many) bewildering notion of the “election differential” (选举差额). For now, however, we turn to a recent interview with retired senior cadre Du Daozheng (杜导正), the publisher of the progressive monthly journal Yanhuang Chunqiu (炎黄春秋).


[ABOVE: Du Daozheng appears on the cover of the most recent edition of Guangdong’s Southern People Weekly.]
In the interview, published in the most recent issue of Guangdong’s Southern People Weekly magazine, Du discusses Chinese politics and history in light of its present challenges, offering a good overview of some of the issues at stake in the lead up to the 18th Congress.
For more background on Du Daozheng, we encourage readers to turn to this 2007 interview translated by Roland Soong, and this 2009 interview in The New York Times.

Du Daozheng: I’m optimistic about the China’s prospects
— a conversation with Du Daozheng (杜导正)
Southern People Weekly: You compare China’s political situation to a pressure cooker. Would do you think the people inside the pressure cooker should do?
Du Daozheng: Pressure cookers have a valve, and the more you turn this valve the more pressure builds up, until one day the whole thing explodes. Once the explosion happens everyone falls on hard times, and no one has an advantage. And so, I hope we can take the path of reformism (改良主义).
The tension in China rights now can be summed up in 16 words: “Official corruption, a wide income gap, a collapse of ethics and morals, and poor public security.” [NOTE: The 16 “characters” in Chinese here are, 官场腐败,贫富悬殊,道德滑坡,治安不好]. Chinese now have food on the table and roofs over their heads. They are no longer at war, and feel they can get by. But corruption is so severe, the gap between rich and poor continues to widen, and the level of frustration ordinary Chinese feel with the government continues to rise. This is really dangerous.
Southern People Weekly: We’ve just celebrated the 100th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution. How do assess these past 100 years?
Du Daozheng: Sun Yat-sen had a profound influence on China, on the [Chinese Communist Party], on generations of intellectuals. The Xinhai Revolution was a banner, and this is something that even the Democratic Progressive Party in Taiwan doesn’t dare deny. It’s really regrettable that in mainland China we have failed to use the 100th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution as an opportunity to promote the democratic process.
When we look back on Sun Yat-sen’s “Three Principles of the People” (三民主义), we can see their relevance still. Mao Zedong made many mistakes, but on the issue of national sovereignty, judging historically, what he collectively represents has merit. When I was young we would read the newspapers and be left with the sense that the country was doomed. We lost China’s three northeastern provinces [to the Japanese], and then came Chahar and Rehe [both Mongolian provinces]. National independence, and equal status among nations, this was raised by Sun Yat-sen, it was a concern of Chiang Kai-shek’s, but ultimately the issue was resolved in the era of Mao Zedong.
The leadership position of the Chinese Communist Party has relied upon both “nationalism” and the “people’s welfare,” [two of Sun Yat-sen’s original “three principles”]. But now corruption and the wealth gap has reached such a point that the problem of “people’s power” [or “democracy”] must be resolved. Power must be checked. We cannot rely on morality to provide a check, so this commending of moral principles that we’re seeing right now is of no use. Dealing with internal corruption at the roots is something very difficult for [the Party] to handle itself — it’s like growing a huge boil on one hand and trying to cut it off with a knife in the other. You can’t do it.
There are three things we have to do now. The first is intra-party democracy. The second is reforming the people’s congress system. The third is opening up public opinion [NOTE: in other words, relaxing media policy].
Southern People Weekly: Have the heard the various voices among those now in power [on this issue]?
Du Daozheng: There are good people inside officialdom too right now. A central Party leader stepping down told me that one time he visited a certain province and the situation as introduced to him by the Party secretary [of that province] was one thing, but after the meeting the two of them spoke privately and that provincial secretary said that everything he had just said was said out of obligation only.
If there’s anything I’ve learned through my life of experience it’s that any person, any group, any ruling party, any particular matter, is always very complex, nuanced and changeable. And so when we look at, analyze and handle issues, we must avoid over-simplification and absolutism. I think this applies to all problems.
Southern People Weekly: There are some people who believe that the violent revolution set off by the Xinhai Revolution created a century of unrest for China, that if the self-strengthening movement at the end of the Qing dynasty had been successful, creating a constitutional monarchy, things in China would have gone very differently.
Du Daozheng: The Guangxu Emperor wanted to take the path of Japan’s Meiji Restoration, and if he had been successful this would have been a boon for China. China would not be as it is now, but would be a powerful capitalist nation. But he failed after all. The Empress Dowager Cixi suppressed him. Before her death her own thoughts turned to reform. At the time, forces within the court began to rise [in favor of reform] and many ministers from many parts [of China] had different ideas, that not seeking reform was not an option. She [Cixi] permitted privately-run newspapers, and almost immediately more than 100 publications were launched in Shanghai. But it was too late. The United League had already risen and was calling for revolution. This is the concern in China right now. The lessons of history are rich indeed. All blood and tears.
Southern People Weekly: America is right now experiencing this “occupy Wall Street” movement, and some Chinese have rejoiced in this, saying that the West is in decline and the East is rising.
Du Daozheng: Compared to China the problems facing the West are minor ones. Even if they make a bigger fuss, it won’t come to armed insurrection, because their democratic institutions determine that the people have the right to choose and remove their government. It’s possible under democratic social institutions to constantly reform and correct errors [in society]. There is great vitality, and therefore stability. Internally, they are far more stable that appearances suggest.
Southern People Weekly: Lately, one of the terms that makes governments at all levels of [China’s bureaucracy] nervous is stability preservation. What do you think makes for a stable society?
Southern People Weekly: Lately, one of the terms that makes governments at all levels of [China’s bureaucracy] nervous is stability preservation. What do you think makes for a stable society?
Du Daozheng: Right now large-scale revolution is impossible in China, but small-scale unrest is widespread. In my view, the best thing would be to take a number of quick steps forward while preserving the leadership status of the Chinese Communist Party, preserving current political power, and preserving the present social structure. Recently, a number of sons and daughters of old cadres have talked about how aside from truly advancing intra-party democracy, there is a need to quickly advance the reform of the people’s congress system, including raising the quota of people’s congress delegates for the people by 20 percent. I think this is a good idea.
Southern People Weekly: Recently in Guangdong there was a child who was struck twice by vehicles and then was ignored by 18 passersby who rendered no help at all. How do you see that incident?
Du Daozheng: There is a moral collapse behind this incident, and also weakness in our legal institutions — after I’ve saved you, and you turn and level charges against me, I could face prison time.
Morals are far too weak as a part of our education system. Right now we stop at nothing for scientific and technological development. Just look at how our country places little priority on culture and human affairs, but only awards science and technology. This is not unlike [the situation under] Stalin. Stalin had little regard for the humanities and only cultivated Gorky and a number of intellectuals who would do his bidding. Mostly he supported and cultivate those in the sciences and technology.