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).
On October 16, 2010, Wang Lijun (王立军), the top official in Chongqing’s Public Security Bureau, gave a speech during a police conference in Chongqing in which he said that in the future his agency would launch a lawsuit against any media and journalist who attacked the reputation of the Chongqing Public Security Bureau or the civil police force (民警). If individual civil police officers were singled out for attack, said Wang, the officers would bring a suit against the journalist responsible in the courts, and the Public Security Bureau would sue the media organization. This he referred to as “double action.” Wang Lijun’s remarks sparked a discussion in China’s media about increasing pressures facing the practice of “supervision by public opinion,” or yulun jiandu (舆论监督), the use of the media to monitor power.
According to a recent news report from China News Service, China’s number-two official newswire, CCP discipline inspectors are now looking into a recent “tailor-made” job advertisement posted by a county-level government in Fujian’s Ningde City (宁德市). The job advertisement in question, posted for a government position in Pingnan County (屏南县), specified that the right job candidate would have “obtained a master’s degree overseas, specialize in international accounting, have college English band four, possess residency papers from Pingnan County, be female, and under the age of 25.” The advertisement quickly created a sensation online, where Chinese Internet users pointed out that “only the daughter of XX leader in Pingnan would be qualified for the position.” In this cartoon, posted by the Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, a young woman whose legs end in an official stamp, a symbol of public office, admires herself in the mirror as her father, a government official, looks on in admiration, giving the thumbs-up.
On December 1, 2010, Guangdong’s official Nanfang Daily newspaper reported that as computer use has become more and more widespread in China, Chinese students are increasingly turning to the Internet for help with homework, cutting corners in the learning process to the concern of parents and teachers. In the following cartoon, posted by artist Shang Haichun (商海春) to his QQ blog, a helping hand reaches out of the screen of a computer that reads “Online Help” and writes “homework answers” on a student’s paper.
We’ve become like Ivan Andreevich Krylov’s poem about the swan, the pike and the crawfish trying to pull a loaded cart off in different directions. We’ve become embroiled in a pointless and protracted war of attrition.
When we say that “China is complicated” we don’t necessarily mean this as a negative thing. Change is happening all around us. Our society is opening up more and more by the day. Chinese are exploring their own ideas and moving in their own directions, each seeking their own position in life. Gone are the days when we all sported the same face and were all of a single mind.
Having said that, we should be concerned with the fact that civil exchange and the sharing of our respective ideas and opinions is getting more difficult all the time. It’s hard to detect in our society any sort of “consensus of the times” or other commonly-held foundation of thought or belief.
That at least is the impression I have.
Take for example the extreme language we have seen in such cases as the [self-immolation] in Yihuang, in which one official said that, “Without demolition and removal there can be no new China,” a sentiment flatly rejected by ordinary Chinese.
Generally speaking, misunderstandings between the government and the people have still not been eliminated in our country. The left side [of the CCP] has its own discourse, and the right has its own discourse, and the two sides seem to have completely lost the capacity to speak frankly about issues. Each regards the other side with disgust, and they are incapable of friendly exchange.
Many of us seek out people with whom we can share our views over a cup of tea — but most often this is to have a good laugh, not to arrive at a consensus about how to solve this or that problem. You might even say we are altogether disillusioned with this process, the product of our constant and unending disappointment. We don’t suppose those exercising power will give even a nod of consideration to our ideas. This is the way the media generally feel as well.
There is no-one we can count on to dissolve our differences or bring reconciliation, not between the government and the people, and not between the so-called left and the so-called right.
How is it that we now have ever more advanced tools for discussion at our fingertips, but the tangible results of this have only been a deterioration of the discussion?
More and more people are hungry to express themselves and have the means, but fewer seem willing to listen. Instead, everyone is speaking in his or her own corner, soliloquizing. We hear nothing, and other voices are no longer important. Even though parts of our society have reached a consensus on some key issues, like the need to abolish the existing regulation on demolition of urban housing, such action faces immense hurdles on the government level.
It seems we can only engage in a completely fruitless sort of dialogue.
Actually, this mess is worse than just ineffectiveness. We’ve become like Ivan Andreevich Krylov’s poem about the swan, the pike and the crawfish trying to pull a loaded cart off in different directions. We’ve become embroiled in a pointless and protracted war of attrition.
Who are you? Are you a swan, a pike or a crawfish? This is no longer the point. The point is that we’re all exhausting ourselves and facing extreme hardship, without any sense of security. We push off in our own directions, but its a zero-sum game. In this tug-of-war pattern, strength is of no avail in solving anything.
At such a time, what we really need is to sit still for a moment and really think. We need to sit down and have a really good talk, seeking the real means of change. In the end, we’re all concrete individuals, whether we’re system insiders or system outsiders.
Just a few days ago, a student of mine, a lively thinker, said: “Teacher, isn’t it bad too for so many media to put attention on [Chinese Academy of Social Sciences professor and CMP fellow] Yu Jianrong (于建嵘).” Yu Jianrong is a rare sort of scholar in contemporary China. In my view, his value like less in his academic work per se, or in his public addresses, than in his efforts to work toward a “China consensus.” Yu is willing to preach to government leaders to defend the interests of China’s disadvantaged.
Thinking of this, I answered the inquisitive student: “The core problem isn’t that too many have paid attention to Yu Jianrong, but that in China scholars of Yu Jianrong’s mettle are few and far between. The work that should be done by a whole class of people is bravely sustained by a handful, and they have become like stars in a tragedy. This is really what China today must work to change.” This editorial was originally published in Chinese at The Beijing News.
Currently a correspondent for Window On the South magazine and a leading columnist for The Beijing News, Xiong Peiyun is a prolific freelance journalist, contributing also to Southern Weekend, Southern Metropolis Daily and Hong Kong’s Yazhou Zhoukan. Mr. Xiong’s personal Website, sixiangguo.com, features his original writings in both Chinese and French.
According to a recent report from China Economic Weekly, a magazine published by the CCP’s official People’s Daily, 1.41 million Chinese signed up for the most recent government officeholder’s exam (公务员考试) this year, the third time since 2009 that applications for the exam have surpassed one million. In this cartoon, posted by the Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, the artist depicts the examination as a grab for profit, as official posts are seen as lucrative prospects with ample opportunity for rent-seeking, or profit through the exploitation of political circumstances. Hordes of test takers huddle under a massive official cap, representing government offices, that rains down yuan symbols representing wealth.
On November 10, 2010, China’s State Council emphasized that local governments must “resolutely prevent” the flagrant of abuse the wishes of farmers in carrying out large-scale demolition of residential areas (and confiscation of farmland) to make room for high-rises and other building projects. Reckless and irrational development by many local governments in China has exacerbated social tensions and constantly created new points of tension and unrest. In this cartoon, posted by artist Shang Haichun (商海春) to his QQ blog, a local official paints the bright red character for “demolish” on the pouch of a mother kangaroo and she and her baby look on in puzzlement and the baby shouts an unheeded cry of protest.
One of the biggest recent topics in China’s news media has been the stark contrast between the opportunities available in China to the sons and daughters of the powerful and the wealthy — the fu’erdai and guan’erdai — and the relative helplessness of unconnected young graduates, who simply can’t find jobs. This issue has focused attention on the deep inequities that have come with economic growth in China. And the issue is backgrounded by the more urgent question of what sort of reform, including political reform, might be necessary to address these problems. In this cartoon, posted to the QQ blog of Zhang Bin (张滨), deputy director of the China News Cartoon Research Institute (中国新闻漫画研究会) and a top editor at Guangzhou Daily, a figure who is perhaps an office manager or company boss, introduces the pumpkin-headed son of an official (identified by the two characters, “fuyin”/父荫, on the piece of paper in his hands, a term referring to those who get official posts on the basis of their parent’s political and business connections). Introducing the new hire, the manager says to presumed doubters outside the picture: “So he has no head! But, look, his connections are great!” For more on this issue, see CMP fellow Yu Jianrong’s piece on China’s new “educated youth.”