On the eve of Valentine’s Day, artist Shang Haichun (商海春) turns his powers of illustration to the more mundane subject of love — and misunderstanding. In this cartoon, appearing on Shang’s QQ blog, a woman approached by a man bearing a single long-stemmed rose blushes and says: “Oh my! What an unexpected surprise!” The man spouts back: “Relax. I just want to know if you’re interested in buying a rose.”
During the recent Chinese New Year, the Year of the Tiger gave way to the Year of the Rabbit. Given the economic and other woes facing China and the rest of the world in 2010, the Lunar New Year was certainly an occasion to look forward to better and more prosperous times to come. In this cartoon, posted by artist Xu Jun (徐骏) to his blog at QQ.com, a weary and ragged tiger steps out of his burning apartment on crutches and hands the reins over to a very apprehensive rabbit. The tiger clutches his “2010 Work Handover Report,” presumably a record of misery, and says to the rabbit: “Best of luck!”
Two of China’s major Internet news sites, QQ.com and Sina.com, reported prominently today on a grassroots web-based initiative attempting to locate abducted children in China and re-connect them with their families. The initiative, launched on January 25 by CMP fellow Yu Jianrong (于建嵘), a professor at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, calls on web users to share photos through the dominant QQ and Sina microblog platforms of children around the country who are working as street beggars. Once shared through these platforms, the photos may be matched with police databases or recognized by parents.
Child beggars are an all-too-common sight in major cities in China, where they are often forced to approach passersby and ask for money by chaperoning adults who are not their parents. In some cases, abducted children are sold to couples who cannot have children or prefer boys, but many also end up in positions of virtual slavery, forced to work as beggars.
Within one week of the initial call, close to 1,000 photographs were shared through the microblog groups set up by Yu Jianrong. In a story today from Information Times, a spin-off of Guangzhou Daily, Yu tells the reporter that four children have already been identified from photographs provided by web users, and efforts are now underway to rescue the children.
Soon after the movement got under way, Chen Shiqu (陈士渠), the head of the Child Abduction office of China’s Public Security Bureau, voiced his support on his microblog, providing his contact information, and a number of delegates to the upcoming session of the National People’s Congress said they were preparing to submit a proposal on the issue of child abduction.
QQ.com has now set up a special “Baby Return Home” page for the movement, with a link to the QQ microblog group.
An English-language story from the official Xinhua News Agency on the “photograph a child to stop abduction” movement is available HERE.
This will be an interesting story to watch as it develops. While it certainly demonstrates the power social media can have in addressing an issue of broad social concern — and one that has vexed authorities in China — it also illustrates how such tools might challenge controls on public opinion.
This movement is unofficial, and it is growing rapidly. How will the leadership get behind it? How will the seek to shape it?
Remember, too, that we have the recent ban on the use of the term “civil society.” So we’ll have to see how China’s newspapers discuss this movement and what it signifies.
Headlines in China are now telling us that the recent annual Spring Festival Gala on China Central Television was an immensely popular success. But it’s no secret to anyone that the annual CCTV gala is increasingly falling on deaf and inappreciative ears. On the Internet, this massive show of entertainment, national unity and feel-good cheer has already become the butt of much amusement. According to one telling quip, the gala’s greatest comic impact comes after the show.
It does not take much effort, actually, to realize that CCTV’s Spring Festival Gala has never had an easy time of it so far as pleasing the audience goes.
The primary aim of the event has always been to achieve so-called “closeness to the people,” and this could be glimpsed this year as three performers took to the stage in a blatant appeal to grassroots sympathies. I’m referring to the performance by guitarist Liu Gang (刘刚) and singer Wang Xu (王旭), the duo behind the band Xu Ri Yang Gang (旭日阳刚), who became Internet sensations after stepping into the national spotlight with their rendition of the song “In the Springtime” in the 2010 state film production Labor in Flux. Liu and Wang took the stage with singer Ren Yueli (任月丽), known by her stage name Xidan Girl (西单女孩) and another popular artist born of the Internet.
In an attempt to add to the grassroots feel, the CCTV gala was also sprinkled liberally with Internet slang.
The ordinary Chinese who are the focus of this “closeness,” however, just don’t buy this kind of forced cozying up. These grassroots gestures and slangs are like dragging Cinderella straight off to the royal court. It changes nothing. The royal court is still the royal court, and the commoners resent it nonetheless.
Ultimately, the Spring Festival Gala isn’t something that fills everyone with joy. Even those who manage to get into the actual event are shrink-wrapped with caution, forced to sit stiffly at attention.
We have an ancient saying in China about “teaching through lively activities.” But truly successful instruction through amusement can only happen as an unintentional consequence of arts and entertainment. If the didactic purpose is too intrusive, teaching becomes teaching, and joy can’t find a way in.
Just think, how many of our traditional Chinese dramas could be taken as examples of this idea of teaching through lively activities? Many of them, to be sure. But how many were were created and put on by the government? They were almost all genuine grassroots efforts. In fact, the Chinese gentry rarely took part in them at all.
The way ordinary Chinese see it, the Spring Festival Gala should be a massive celebration for them, a time when everyone can sit back, relax and have a great time. But the host of this celebration has become so serious about the whole thing, and can’t resist the temptation to preach through the performances. This is so woefully removed from public feeling that no matter how “close” the host gets it can never close the gap.
Encroaching seriousness is also evident from the changes made in recent years to spoken comedy acts, which have always been a staple of the Spring Festival Gala and something people have eagerly anticipated. Now, apparently, satire is off limits in these acts, though I’m not exactly sure when this started. In my view, satire is essential to the art of crosstalk, China’s unique brand of stand-up comedy, and without satire crosstalk comes off as soulless.
All acts performing for the Spring Festival Gala are limited in the space they can safely explore. You can imagine the shriveling limitations imposed in terms of both topic and interpretation.
The result is a critical and fundamental departure from the moods and opinions of the people. It’s only natural that through the course of the year people will harbor some form of resentment or feel disgruntled in some way. Enjoying a bit of satire during the annual gala can help them relax a bit and free themselves up.
But when would-be comic acts can only tiptoe around, when they must take care to avoid the pitfalls of [President Hu Jintao’s] “Three Vulgarities,” when they can only seek pleasure in a senseless vacuum, this creates and perpetuates misunderstanding.
The arts and entertainment are products of the spirit. Their closeness to the people isn’t a matter of form, but rather of content, of spiritual energy and meaning. It is no longer possible for the annual Spring Festival Gala, so saddled already with official errands, its planners and performers strapped in tight, to cozy up to the people in earnest.
Nothing in heaven or on earth could save the Spring Festival Gala in its present form. The only possible cure is openness. We 1.3 billion Chinese deserve more than just one Spring Festival gala. We should be able to enjoy a few more celebrations, of all different kinds, with more people actually taking part, so that everyone can relax and have a great time. If that could happen, any sickness might be cured.
A version of this editorial originally appeared in the February 5 edition of Southern Metropolis Daily
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SUGGESTED READING:
“Glimpsing [Comedian] Zhao Benshan’s Heart of Fear from This Year’s Spring Festival Gala” (Chinese)
In January 2011 China’s State Council passed in principle a draft regulation that seeks to do away with the widespread practice of forced home demolition to make room for development projects. Forced demolition, or qiang chai (强拆), and its social fallout has been one of the most pernicious issues to haunt China over the past decade, as local government leaders across the country have recklessly seized land and destroyed property in a race to fuel local economic development, and to personally enrich themselves. While state media hailed the new draft regulation as a clear victory in holding the practice of forced demolition at bay, many experts said it would do little — and might even do more harm — without deeper legal and political reforms. We have a round-up of the debate at CMP here. In this cartoon, printed in the English-language China Daily on January 28 and posted to artist Will Luo’s (罗杰) QQ blog, a hulking bulldozer (labeled “violent demolition”) sent to demolish the home of an angry citizen, who shouts in defiance from his rooftop, is held back by a huge iron ball and chain labeled “new law on demolition and eviction.” The caption reads hopefully — remember, China Daily is published by the State Council Information Office — “The promulgation of the new law on demolition and eviction will prove a definite check on instances of violent demolition and eviction.”
The Beijing News reported late last month that six major regional satellite television stations in China were opting against broadcasting China Central Television’s annual Spring Festival gala this year, citing the program’s waning influence and CCTV broadcast fees. Television networks deciding not to broadcast the annual event included Anhui Television, Jiangsu Satellite TV and Hunan Satellite TV. A top advertising manager with Anhui Television said: “This year at least five networks will not broadcast the CCTV Spring Festival Gala, and there are already many stations talking about this issue. Not broadcasting the show should be the trend we see in the future.” The CCTV Spring Festival Gala, an all-night stage show to ring in the Lunar New Year, with acts ranging from traditional dance and pop music to comedy — and a heavy dose of state propaganda — has been a household tradition in China for many years. In this cartoon, posted by artist Shang Haichun (商海春) to his QQ.com blog, a salesman with red lanterns labeled “China Central Television” and “Spring Festival Gala” tries to approach a TV screen labeled “regional TV station” but is turned away by a big hand.
As millions of Chinese make their way home from major cities for the annual Spring Festival, and train and bus tickets remain notoriously scarce, hundreds of thousands of people have resorted to travel by motorbike. An estimated 100,000 people returned home from the southern city of Guangzhou alone on motorbikes. In this cartoon from New Century magazine posted to Caing.com, drawn by Ding Huayong (丁华勇) with text by Qiu Kaijun (邱锴俊), a migrant motorbike rider with a pair of scissors cuts the cord that ties him to China’s rail system, represented by a massive grey figure labelled “China Railways” seated atop a train car, and the motorbike and the train symbolically part ways as the migrant says, “I’m done playing with you.” The head on the massive shoulders of the grey figure is proportionally tiny, presumably a criticism of how inept China’s Ministry of Railways has been in recent years in resolving the problem of insufficient supply during the annual Spring Festival rush. 
We might wear a fierce expression, or remonstrate gently with a compassionate heart, but ultimately we must learn to speak as citizens.
According to a recent report in Guangzhou’s official Guangzhou Daily newspaper, all official vehicles used by government officials in Guangzhou will be installed with GPS devices designed to help authorities crack down on the personal use of public vehicles (公车私用). While a useful application of technology, one has to wonder whether this method is practical in monitoring anyone but lower-level government bureaucrats. Who, in other words, are the flesh-and-blood human beings sitting behind these monitoring devices? And are they really going to slap the mayor on the hand? In this cartoon, posted by the Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, a black official government sedan, identifiable by its hubcaps in the shape of official red stamps, nervously casts a sidelong glance at a screen labeled “GPS,” on which a large eye hovers.
False reporting of the unemployment rate is no longer news . . . Not falsifying [employment figures], now that would be real news.
