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.

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.

In China this week, “fake news” is in the news. But given the confusion of China’s press environment, where controls and propaganda crisscross with the worst commercial appetites and the best professional impulses, it is often difficult to tell which articles are real “fake news”, which are officially sanctioned falsehoods, and which are fake “fake news,” branded as such by government officials who have an active interest in suppressing the truth.
The first story to talk about — almost certainly an authentic piece of “fake news” — was a popular news story in the Chongqing Evening News last week about the saga of Li Chunfeng (李春凤), a migrant worker in Zhejiang who reportedly drove a motorcycle 2,000 kilometers home to Chongqing after being seized with an irrepressible desire to see her six-year-old son. Seeing the story rising to the top at China’s leading online news site, QQ.com, we wrote on CMP Newswire last week that we suspected the story, which was drawing national attention and sympathy, was fake, and many Chinese journalists and readers have said the same since.
The Chongqing Evening News story seems to play wantonly on popular sympathies ahead of the Chinese New Year, when millions of Chinese struggle to find their way back home to reunite with their families against the world’s biggest transportation logjam, when train and bus tickets are virtually impossible to buy. It tells how Li Chunfeng dreamt one evening in Zhejiang that her boy’s body was covered in blood and under attack by rats, so she decided the next day to make the long journey home on a motorbike she had purchased with an advance from her boss, disguising herself as a man for the sake of safety on the long journey.

Li Chunfeng is the only source for this saccharine “news feature,” printed on a full page with two photos that look suspiciously posed, including one taken from the front as Li, with safety helmet on, rides a motorcycle with a look of heartfelt determination. The story is too much, too over the top, and too thin on real facts and sources — despite the fact that it is apparently a concerted effort by a “reporter”, a “correspondent” and an “intern,” all of whom are credited in the byline.
The story instantly found a warm-hearted following among Chinese Internet users, who gave Li Chunfeng the affectionate name “Motorcycle Mama” (摩托妈妈). But doubts about the authenticity of the story were voiced just as quickly, as reported in this China National Radio story. Some asked, for example, whether it was humanly possible for anyone to survive six days on half a bottle of water, as the news story claimed Li had.
Before long Xi’an’s commercial Huashang Bao (华商报) followed up on the story with Li Chunfeng herself and found that she was unable to confirm basic facts, such as exactly when she had set off on the journey and whether she had taken national roads or expressways. Li seemed able to recall only one or two specifics about the journey at all.
Writing at Southern Metropolis Daily today, well-known journalist and blogger Wu Yue San Ren (五岳散人) noted with good humor:

The story suspected of being fake news . . . told how a mother had driven her motorcycle 2,000 kilometers . . . and in her four days on the road slept only 6 hours and basically ate nothing. Of course, the greatest thing on earth is a mother’s love — but this greatness certainly doesn’t translate into superpowers. If this mother were truly a superhero, she would simply have flown home.

By some accounts, “fake news”, or xujia xinwen (虚假新闻), has plagued news media in China since at least the Cultural Revolution, at which time media fabricated news to suit the political purposes of the Gang of Four. Chinese government officials, however, deny definitions of the term that lump in state propaganda, and the allegation of “fake news” can often signal action against news seen to violate propaganda restrictions — news, in other words, that is too true.
Over the past twenty years, as economic reforms have moved rapidly ahead, the problem of “fake news” has certainly grown more serious. Many officials and academics point to the commercialization of media industry and intensified market competition as the root causes.
But what about propaganda itself? It is not “fake news” when state media run news stories quoting rescued mine workers declaring as they emerge to safety: “Glory be to the Communist Party, glory be to the government, and glory be to the people!”?
In a highly commercialized media environment subject to strict propaganda controls, media find it safer and more profitable to avoid real public interest stories in favor of pleasant, harmless and salable falsehoods. Control, therefore, has played a central role in undermining truth and credibility, and is the soil that nurtures “fake news.”
Relevant to the issue of state media and “fake news,” there has also been quite a bit of online chatter in China in recent days about remarks made by Deng Yaping (邓亚萍), a former ping-pong champion who is now deputy secretary of the Party’s official People’s Daily. Deng claimed in December that the official “mouthpiece” of China’s leadership has “never published fake news” in the past 62 years. But that claim rankles with many, who can cite endless cases of false, misleading or sloganeering coverage in recent months and years — not to mention in decades past.
Unfortunately, we also have this week an example of “fake news” being used as a tool of political control. We learn from Chinese-language reports by Deutsche Welle and Radio France International, since confirmed by numerous Chinese journalists and activists writing on Twitter, that Chengdu Commercial Daily reporter Long Can (龙灿) was dismissed on January 21 for “serious violations” and “false reports,” or baodao shishi (报道失实).
Sichuan-based blogger Song Shinan (宋石男) reported on Twitter that the Central Propaganda Department had ruled as “fake news” (假新闻) Long Can’s December investigation for Chengdu Commercial Daily into the rescue of 18 students from Shanghai’s Fudan University who had hiked into a rugged mountainous area near China’s scenic Huangshan, a rescue that led to the death of a police officer.
For much of December, popular anger in China focused on the Fudan University students. Many said their recklessness and insufficient preparation had put the local police rescue team in a dangerous position. Long’s report revealed that local police in Huangshan had ignored three emergency calls to “110” by student Shi Chengzu (施承祖) earlier in the day. Receiving no response from local authorities, the students contacted “Number Two Uncle” (二姨夫), a relative of one of the students many have speculated is an influential Shanghai official.
Once contact with “Number Two Uncle” was made, authorities in both Shanghai and Anhui sprang into action. The local mayor, propaganda chief and police chief of Huangshan all joined the rescue, according to Long’s report. By this time night was falling on Huangshan and conditions were treacherous, but Shanghai officials reportedly said that “rescue must be made whatever the cost.”
Deutsche Welle reported that China’s General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP) subjected Long’s report to its own investigation under pressure from the Central Propaganda Department and unspecified official pressure in Shanghai (“Number Two Uncle”?). GAPP then meted out the following punishment for Chengdu Commercial Daily:

1. journalist Long Can to be dismissed; 2. editor Zhang Feng (张丰) to be fined 1,000 yuan; 3. executive editor Xu Jian (徐剑) to be dismissed; 4. head of the news desk, Zeng Xi (曾熙), to be dismissed; 5. Zhang Quanhong (泉洪), editorial board member in charge of the news desk, to be suspended from duties and subjected to severe examination; 6. editorial board member on duty that day, Wang Qi (王奇), to be fined 3,000 yuan; 7. chief editor Chen Shuping (陈舒平) to be fined 3,000 yuan.

Speaking to Deutsche Welle, Long Can upheld the truth of his report, and voiced his deep anger and frustration at the actions taken against him and his paper:

My situation right now is really difficult. I’ve been a journalist for 10 years. I’ve never accepted a red envelope [in payment for or against news coverage]. What we make can’t be considered an enviable wage. We keep to our original journalism ideals through the years, and those “ideals” are what we lean on as we plod ahead. Being a journalist has always been cruel and difficult. We always hope for even the simplest measure of care, even the merest regard for our ideals, but these have never in fact been granted — not in terms newspapers themselves or the larger media environment. As journalists we bear all of the risks and pressure. But then we find at the critical moment that we’re “cast as failures” (被失败者). What I most want to say is that if all journalists within a news media are silent, this can only cause more journalists to face the danger of being expelled . . . and within the world, if all the people in a country keep silent, it will be like Iran or North Korea. Is there meaning in that? Silence takes away all meaning. Before I worked hard to ensure that I kept my cool. But this time I’m furious. I feel I’ve lost hope for “journalism.”

Over the last several days, scores of leading journalists and activists in China have discussed the Long Can case, and shared his investigative report, through Twitter and domestic microblog services. Earlier this week, Long Can shared the full text of his investigative report online, inviting scrutiny from fellow professionals: “This is my original draft, with not a word removed. I hope everyone will offer their criticism and analysis from the standpoint of [professional] news writing. I’ll accept them all. Thank you. As to whether my report can be called fake news, everyone can come to their own conclusions in their hearts.”
Long Can’s microblog post was shared by likes of CMP fellow and top Chinese investigative reporter Wang Keqin (王克勤).
Shen Yachuan (沈亚川), a veteran journalist and reporter for Southern Weekend who often writes under his online alias Shi Feike (石扉客), sent Chinese microblog users to a link outside China’s firewall, where they could find the reports on Long Can’s dismissal by journalist Cao Guoxing (曹国星) at Radio France International: “They are of the best possible quality. I encourage everyone to scale the wall and read them,” Shen said.
According to the RFI report in question, Shanghai police criticized Long Can’s investigative report on the Huangshan rescue, saying they had never received a report from a “so-called influential person” related to the trapped hikers.
Speculation as to the possible identity of Shanghai’s “Number Two Uncle” is one of many questions that remain unanswered in the dismissal of journalist Long Can.
Now, clearly, the specific issues with Long’s report for Chengdu Commercial Daily and the reasons why he and others have suffered as a result are not open for discussion in China. Long’s career as a professional journalist is almost certainly over, and a tragedy that is all too real hides behind an unsupported accusation of “fake news.”

In December 2010, the Beijing municipal government responded to the problem of severe overcrowding of the city’s roads by limiting the number of personal cars approved for purchase. The city government said it would limit new licenses to 240,000 this year, one-third the number of licenses approved in 2010. Gridlock on Beijing’s roads has become a major issue in China’s media in recent months [See “Why do Beijingers Feel They Must Have Cars?“]. In this cartoon, posted by artist Fan Jianping (范建平) to his blog on top Chinese Internet site QQ.com, city residents are surrounded by a flood of personal automobiles and must seek refuge on top of their homes and in treetops.

According to a news report from People’s Daily’s overseas edition re-posted on People’s Daily Online, China’s Ministry of Railways announced on January 17 that the problem of “hard-to-get tickets” (一票难求) will be solved by 2015. The 40 days between January 19 and February 27 this year are expected to be the nation’s busiest, with millions of Chinese trying to make it home for the holidays then returning. Tickets are notoriously difficult to buy during this time. But the People’s Daily Online report took on a subtle tone of criticism, and humor, as news editors posted it at a number of major websites in China, adding screenshots of identical claims from the Ministry of Railways in past years. Back in 2007, for example, the Ministry of Railways said the problem of hard-to-get tickets would be “substantially solved” by 2010. This is the link for the original People’s Daily Online post, and you can see here what QQ did by clicking here. In this cartoon, posted by artist Xu Jun (徐骏) to his blog at popular Chinese Internet site QQ.com, a Ministry of Railways officials crosses out the year 2012 with a red brush on a sign that reads “Hard-to-buy train tickets, problem to be solved by.” He paints a new year, 2015, and as he walks away thinks to himself, “I’d better hold on to this brush.”

According to Huashang Bao, a commercial newspaper in the city of Xi’an, 31 people, including 13 children, suffered serious burns and eye injuries at Tongchuan City People’s Hospital in Shaanxi province when ultraviolet lighting was mistakenly turned on in a hospital ward. The reporter from the newspaper found upon visiting the hospital that the ultraviolet switch was located right next to the normal light switch. In this cartoon, posted by the Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, hospital patients desperately try to shade their eyes as violet light rains down from overhead. Switches right next to one another on the wall read: “Floor lamp/flourescent lamp/ultraviolet light.”

This week 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.
Over the past year, as discussion and debate of the regulation dragged on, China experienced a number of horrific tragedies stemming from forced demolition. In one of the most high-profile cases, three members of one family in China’s southern Jiangxi province set fire to themselves in a final, last-ditch act of protest as local police converged on their home to carry out a forced demolition order.
The draft regulation comes amid a building consensus in China that the issue of forced demolition must be seriously addressed. But is this draft State Council regulation the answer? Is there cause for even guarded optimism?
The draft does away with the practice of forced “administrative demolition” (行政拆迁) and appears to put decisions on demolition in the hands of China’s courts, favoring “judicial demolition” (司法拆迁). It demands also that “the degree of public participation be expanded” ahead of proposed demolitions, and that “compensation for [demolished] residences does not fall below the market price for similar properties.” The regulation further stipulates that companies involved in development projects slated for the demolition site not be involved in the demolition and eviction process, a problem that has contributed to abuses, as developers with strong political backing have often acted above the law.

[ABOVE: Residences face forced administrative demolition in Tianjin in 2007.]
Some commentators argue that the new draft regulation is a positive step forward, even if imperfect. CMP fellow Zhan Jiang (展江), a professor of journalism at Beijing Foreign Studies University, acknowledged problems with the new regulations but noted four points of progress:

Major points of progress include: 1. compensation for residences [on which demolition actions are] being imposed must not fall below the market price for similar properties; 2. the expansion of the degree of public participation, the opinions of the public should be sought for proposals for compensation for acts of demolition; 3. the cancellation of compulsory administrative demolition and removal (行政强制拆迁); 4. prohibition against development companies taking part in demolition and removal. These were not easy, and they are worthy of compliment.

“Just think how many people shed blood in exchange [for these concessions],” Zhan wrote. “Everyone should continue to observe the actions of local governments.”
But criticism has harried the draft regulation since its release on December 15 last year, and it certainly fails to address a number of key issues. It deals only, for example, with demolition carried out on state-owned land while many of the most serious incidents stemming from demolition actually occur on collectively-held land — for example, in villages on the fringes of expanding cities — a legacy of China’s land reforms in the 1950s.
One of the biggest concerns is how much impact the regulations can have in the absence of deeper reform to the system making local leaders more accountable. The regulations, for example, stipulate that government officials must now provide a demolition notice issued by the courts before a demolition can go forward. Critics point out correctly that such a stipulation will make little difference so long as the local courts (as well as the police) are in the hands of local officials.
Writing at the Caixin Media website, Yuan Yulai (袁裕来), a Chinese legal expert and member of the All-China Lawyers Association, said the new draft regulation would not be a step forward and might actually be a step back. The reason lies, he said, in the nature of China’s legal system.

The unit of decision-making power in our country is the Party committee, and demolition actions, which are generally related to major projects, are decided through local Party committees and standing committees and then handed to the government for implementation. The word “government” here has a very broad meaning, including the government, the local people’s congresses, the courts and other agencies. In the case of the courts, the Party committee exercises [its decisions] through the Politics and Law Committee. The chief of the court is the Secretary of the Party Committee, and the leading body of the courts is the court’s Party organization, comprising members of the leading Party group. The chief judge is not even a member of the local Party committee, and that he is not a member of the standing committee goes without saying. When the Party committee makes decisions on such issues as demolition and removal, the chief judge does not even have the power to attend as a non-voting delegate. The only thing he can do is carry out the decision of the Party committee.
Even worse is the fact that the People’s Courts are often garbed with the cloak of independence and fairness, and this idea is impressed upon many people’s hearts. At the heart, this is true of systems of justice, but over here where we are things are entirely not that way. The character of independence has already been totally hollowed out. Some time ago we were calling all the time for an end to the localization of court justice, but now we uphold the idea that courts must accommodate local Party leaders. I’m afraid there’s no way in a short period of time that we can redeem the outcomes we have reaped from this.

When Yuan said courts must now “accommodate local Party leaders,” he was referring to the policy of the “Three Supremes,” first introduced by Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡锦涛) during a 2007 session on national politics and law attended by senior judges and prosecutors. The policy represents a sharp change — and many say a clear step backward — in China’s judicial policies, and is summed up as follows:

1. “Supremacy of the business of the CCP” (党的事业至上)
2. “Supremacy of the interests of the people” (人民利益至上)
3. “Supremacy of constitutional law” (宪法法律至上)

Chinese legal scholar He Weifang (贺卫方) told Hong Kong’s Asia Weekly magazine in August 2010 that legal system reforms in China now face a major challenge in the form of this policy, and the term “Three Supremes” has entirely replaced the erstwhile policy goal of “judicial independence” (司法独立).
Also at Caixin Media, Ding Jinkun (丁金坤), an attorney at Shanghai’s Debund Law Offices, wrote of the new draft demolition regulation:

Some people believe this is a bright moment — what an absurdity!
First of all, the new draft regulation is an administrative regulation, a law made by the government. So how can administrative bodies stipulate the work that courts do? Clearly, administrative organs have overstepped their authority, regarding themselves as the National People’s Congress or the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress. We need to know that the function of the courts is determined by law, and whether or not judicial demolition (司法强拆) goes ahead is something that must be determined by law. Judicial demolition deals with land and housing, and deals with the personal rights of those facing demolition. These are all basic civil rights stipulated in the constitution, and they also fall under the Law of Land Administration and the Property Law. For a low-level demolition ordinance to come along and rock all of these, how can we not say it has overstepped its authority.
Secondly, in terms of actual application, how big is the difference between administrative demolition and removal and judicial demolition and removal? If we had judicial independence and our courts could check administrative power, then judicial demolition and administrative demolition would naturally be different. But our courts certainly are not independent . . . In a word, the courts don’t dare fall afoul of the government, but can only accommodate the government. Therefore, judicial demolition is a superficial change, swapping the broth but not the medicine. Ultimately, what faces demolition will be demolished. . .
The only small note of progress in judicial demolition over administrative demolition is that the court procedures are a bit more normalized, and this will stop some demolitions that are out of bounds. But this progress is virtually insignificant.

Chinese blogger Wu Yue San Ren (五岳散人) expressed his reservations about the draft regulation more caustically on Twitter:

The regulations on demolition passed by the State Council say that stability preservation assessments (维稳评估) [of possible social fallout] must be made before seizures go ahead. Local governments might make their assessment as follows, for example. ‘This village has 500 residents, of which 150 are young and fit. Our city has a 1,000-strong police force, 500 urban management personnel, a 300-strong armed police unit that can be utilized, and we have an overwhelming advantage in terms of weaponry. Aside from that we can put at least 200 men from the criminal underworld out front. Assessment result: stability preservation is not a problem, the demolition can proceed.