I’ve said before that online writing is the power of the powerless. When you’ve written for a period of time and have a definite readership, you develop a degree, albeit a small degree, of power as a result.
Of course, all power must be kept in check. Well then, what is it that keeps me in check once I possess this sort of power as a writer? Do I rely on my knowledge and my conscience? Do I rely on the readers who thoroughly enjoy what I write? No, that’s not enough to keep me in check. And if I operated that way, how would I be any different from those I criticize? No matter how much I might believe in my own rightness and perspicacity, and even if my readers are scrupulous beyond comparison and stand on the right side of history — power relies nevertheless on opposition to keep itself in check.
It’s true that website editors and managers already serve to a large extent as checks on my work. They can choose not to promote my writings, and they have the power to remove them altogether. But this is insufficient, at least as far as I’m concerned. After all, I have many platforms for posting my work, overseas as well as domestic.
It was by mulling over this question that I came to alter my attitude toward criticism of my own work online. Before this, I outright ignored those criticisms that bore an aggressive and confrontational attitude. Web users who helped me manage my blog would tell me what sort of irrational or boisterous comments were being made (because I decided from the beginning that I would not delete any comments whatsoever), but I would never myself thumb through the comments attacking me.
Why didn’t I bother to read these criticisms? Actually, my motives were selfish and pragmatic. Before my attitude toward criticism changed, comments attacking me had the power to affect my mood to the extent that I was unable to “forge courageously ahead” with my writing.
After my attitude adjustment, I would set aside a bit of time to browse through the critical posts, and when I really didn’t have the time I’d ask friends to put together brief summaries of the attacks and share them with me. Gradually, I came to realize that all of these criticisms, even those that many web users identified as posts made by [government] posters for hire, or “50 Cent Party” folk, touched me in some way or another, inspiring or helping me.
Today I’d like to share not those constructive and well-meant criticisms of my work, but only those posts that web users characterize as poisonous attacks and share my views about them.
Shortly after I started blogging, a number of weblogs appeared that were especially devoted to criticizing my writings. There were also blogs opened to support my writings, but I’ll focus on those launched with the express purpose of making attacks against me more convenient.
At Netease, for example, there is a well-known web user called Zhou Xiaomi (周小米) who has had a blog devoted to criticizing me for more than a year now. As soon as I make a new post, there is a flurry of activity at this blog. That nickname of mine, the “democracy huckster” (民主小贩), is a favorite target of their ridicule.
For this blogger nothing about me is spared criticism and ridicule — my appearance, my wardrobe choices. Judging from his language, he not only fails to recognize me, but has not even bothered to carefully read my work.
However, it’s exactly this sort of blog that, once I changed my attitude to criticism, provided me with a great deal of help. He often poked fun at my appearance, and very eloquently. And perhaps no one out there realized that this cut me where it really hurt, because I’ve always lacked confidence about my appearance.
I’ve always felt my eyes are too small. I’m not even quite 1.75 meters tall. My waist is too thick, my legs too thin, and my neck too short. (^_^) . . . When I first launched my blog I posted a photo that looked really bookish. I didn’t think too many people would read the blog, but later when more and more came, I took the photo down.
But after this Zhou Xiaomi began heaping ridicule on my appearance, I began to reflect more about how I am who I am. My parents gave me this appearance. Why had I, just like this cynical person who attacks me, been so unsatisfied with my natural appearance?
Everyone can go and see for themselves that ever since I had this epiphany I’ve posted all sorts of photographs, because suddenly I have self-confidence. This homely fellow, this is me, the “democracy huckster,” Old Yang. And thanks to Zhou Xiaomi’s back-handed support, I am now recognized by my readers when I go out in public.
On my Sohu blog, which has already been shut down, there was a reader who would throw the Eight-Power Allied Forces [if the West] into any discussion, and would ask me accusingly how much money I had received from the Americans, what exactly my connection was to the Eight-Power Allied Forces, how much money I received from them for each piece I wrote, etcetera . . .
Any rational person might suppose that this reader is still a child, mentally challenged, or suffers from acute paranoia. But the lessons I took away from this reader’s barrage of attacks and accusations will probably have significance for me throughout my life.
His constant reversion to the Eight-Power Allied Forces was wearying. But then again, so many of my own blog entries dwelt on America and democracy, and wouldn’t people find that wearying too? Everyday he accused me of taking money from Americans (or Westerners), but then again, should I not ask myself: have you taken money or not? Has money on any level influenced your blog writing?
Given my qualifications and experiences over the years, I have to be honest with myself. If I wanted to apply for funding from Western countries or government-financed programs, it might be easier for me than almost anyone. Moreover, a number of programs have sought me out in the past. To be honest, these programs don’t apply restrictive conditions, and its not a bad thing to participate in them (please note, I don’t oppose to other people taking advantage of them).
But I want to tell everyone — I have never in my life taken a cent of financial support from Westerners, and I have never taken part in any program or event financed by Western governments. I have never had so much as a cup of coffee on the tab of Western governments . . .
These are just two more extreme examples. But criticisms and attacks of this kind all became useful to me once I changed my attitude toward them, and my critics became my teachers and friends, goading me to greater purity and simplicity.
As an online writer, my greatest hope is that when you enter my name into Baidu or Google, what comes up are the articles I’ve worked so hard to write. But still I have a special place in my heart for the words that are critical of me, and many times I’ve asked those web users who help me manage my sites to aggregate posts criticizing me so that they’re not lost. And if we have to, we’ll set up our own platform for this purpose.
If I can continue to write I’ll write several hundred thousand words a year. This is something I’ve demanded of myself. But without the strict oversight of editors, how can I guarantee I don’t commit major errors?
It’s because of this problem that I’ve come to look on those posts and blogs that criticize and attack me as beneficial to me. I believe that if my work continues to improve, this owes a great deal to the readers who support me, but also to those who attack and berate me.
Now, to return to the subject of my title. In the eyes of those anonymous web users, I’m definitely a person of some “power.” But for all of us Internet users, the government is not just powerful, but has a complete grip on real power.
So what attitude should the government have toward web users who criticize (and even attack) it? They too can choose two responses. The first is to feel “wronged and angered” and to act accordingly. That means not just attacking back online as I might, but really striking back, going across provinces if necessary to hold them criminally responsible.
The other possibility is receptiveness and acceptance, correcting your errors if you’ve made them or guarding against them if you’re not in the wrong. By taking this second approach, the government might win the understanding of the people, and even their support and regard. And general social progress will be faster.
Everyone knows about the open letter I wrote to Hubei’s party secretary, Yu Zhengsheng (俞正声). At the time my mother had just passed away, and her work unit had pocketed a portion of the government required funeral allowance. Just imagine them delinquent in paying her wages going back more than a decade.
With a mix of grief and anger, I wielded my pen with feeling. My letter was full of hot satire and cold irony toward the party secretary. Not long after, the provincial authorities sent an investigative team to my home town to resolve the issue, and later I learned that not only had Yu Zhengsheng not suppressed the letter, but in fact had passed it on to a number of local leaders.
Afterwards my father and I discussed the matter, and once we had gotten my mother’s funeral allowance back we agreed to drop our campaign for her unpaid wages. This was around 80,000 yuan, no meager sum as far as my father is concerned.
Our reasoning was simple. In our situation, if we continued to make a fuss it might be possible to get mother’s wages back. But in Suizhou City (随州市), my hometown, there are thousands upon thousands of old people who like my father and mother are owed back wages. Because I was able to write an open letter, I drew the attention of provincial leaders and was able to get a portion of our own money back.
But what about the rest of the old people in Suizhou who are owed money? Considering Yu Zhengsheng’s attitude toward resolving this issue (some things take time to resolve), we cut our losses and stopped seeking the rest of mother’s back wages. Of course, in my writings afterwards I never stopped helping out the rest of those people in a weak position who seek the money they deserve.
I believe other government leaders should learn from Yu Zhengsheng’s attitude toward my critical open letter. And could the government not, in the same way, benefit from my own “bitter experiences” online?
A version of this post appeared originally in Chinese at Yang Hengjun’s blog.

The July 28 explosion in Nanjing rocked the city, injuring at least a hundred people and destroying streets and buildings. The explosion was of an intensity and dimension rarely seen. After a meeting of the city’s top party leadership, which had been interrupted by the explosion, was recalled to session, local leaders demanded that lessons be drawn from this painful and bloody experience, that it serve as an impetus to create a safe and civilized city to the satisfaction of its citizens.
In line with this directive, the city government in Nanjing announced plans for a disaster memorial (or museum) for the July 28 tragedy, incorporating ruins and fragments left behind by the explosion, including burned out buses and destroyed pipes. Local media in Nanjing, citing statements from experts, have said that the purpose of the memorial will be to draw lessons from the tragedy and to honor life, and at the same time to serve as a special cultural marker.
The rapid progress toward planning of a 7.28 memorial has drawn a great deal of public attention. The situation naturally calls to mind for people how local governments are often in the habit of inventing catchphrases and breaking construction ground to deal with public opinion flash points.
Building this or that memorial or “cultural marker” has become a habit with local leaders in China, to the point where people are left somewhat disgusted that such things are being done in the name of bitter tragedies. Opinion online suggests most people believe there is no need whatsoever for these memorials.
If memorials can be constructed in a frugal and serious manner, to stand as testament to such tragedies, that’s something I can approve of. But these memorials must be done with sincerity, and more importantly must be done in an attitude of reflection and regard. And such reflection and regard seems woefully absent from these recent preparations for a memorial to the July 28 explosion in Nanjing.
I’ve noticed that when local media report on this news, they still resort to such words of praise as, “transforming a bad thing into a good thing” — and of course, Nanjing’s leaders are giving this top priority, the government doing everything in its power, repairs going forward night and day, the injured recovering. The reports even go into such concrete details as how officials’ “eyes are brimming with hot tears.”
But there seems to be no reporting whatsoever about the basic situations facing the injured and their family members. Instead, we get tricky language like: “Of the 14 people seriously injured, 5 have improved for the better, and the number of seriously injured has been reduced to just 9 people.”
Nothing at all is said about the number of those killed, which remains in question. Apparently, those who cannot be transformed into stories of achievement and success can be erased entirely.
Permitting the media to go deeply into the facts of the story, and seek out its causes — this must for the foundation of our memory and of reflecting back. Unless this can be done, there is no need at all to build a memorial, and efforts at commemoration will have exactly the opposite effect.
On the day the disaster occurred in Nanjing, local leaders left behind there own official words for our memories — “No direct broadcasting.”
The next day, if you go back and analyze media coverage, you find that aside from Modern Express, published by Xinhua News Agency’s Jiangsu bureau, which included coverage of the tragedy, other papers were all still reporting on the “grand gathering [of party leaders]”, the [upcoming] Mid-Autumn Festival and National Day holidays, and the success of a local award ceremony. The most eye-catching photographs in the news that day were of the air crash in Pakistan, or of normal, everyday Nanjing streets . . .
What’s more, after the local government officially circulated the number of dead, the media cast doubt on these figures in quite a detailed manner, and yet to this day there has been no response by the Nanjing government.
The staggering statement from Nanjing officials preventing “direct broadcasting,” the toning down of local media coverage, and the lingering doubts about the number of people who died — will these be incorporated in plans for the 7.28 memorial? If they cannot be, then what will this memorial stand for?
We can actually glean an inkling from the name of the memorial (or museum) bandied about by officials. Plans are to call it “Disaster Reduction Memorial” (减灾纪念馆). So the actions of the local government in “mitigating” the tragedy are the lesson left to us from the 7.28 explosion? Is that right? What the government wishes to memorialize is the idea that after the tragedy occurred, leaders prioritized it, the government applied resources to it — they want to remember how quickly they responded, how stable society remained, and how moved the people were . . .
I hope that local leaders understand that regardless of whether a memorial is erected or not, any major incident will leave behind its own lessons and memories. Everything that you do, including timely response and handling of the tragedy, and including official acts depriving the public of their right to know, will all be recorded in the history of this event.
These lessons will not take shape through official memorials, and perhaps will linger only in the hearts of the public, in online forums or spoken conversations. But they will have a much deeper place in the hearts of the people, and they will weather the test of history.
This article originally appeared in China at the Shanghai Morning Post.
[See Shanghai Morning Post on CMP’s media map]

If someone achieves fame in China, they become a personality, and once they’ve become a personality they simply can’t make errors in judgement. If they do happen to make errors in judgement, all they have to do is raise their chins and tough it out, going straight into denial mode.
This is true of those in academia and the government, and even for personalities in the business world. Big shots in academia, if they are found to have plagiarized the work of others, must definitely stick to their guns and, whatever happens, refuse to admit wrongdoing. If the attacks are too hard, you exit through the backdoor and prepare your lawsuit. If the attacks are soft, you respond by playing dead, issuing not so much as a whisper.
In sum, whatever happens you don’t ever admit you were wrong — and you definitely don’t apologize.
From time to time our government officials admit error, but this stems from institutional pressure and is done in a bid for leniency. Interview these characters once the storm has passed and they’ll all, to a man, act as though nothing ever happened. It’s only too clear now, as this ethos of stubborn denial infects our business leaders, that a culture of denial (死撑的文化) has become deep rooted in our society.
Some time back, Jun Tang (唐骏), the CEO of New Huadu Industrial Group and former chairman of Microsoft China, was accused by certain parties of having falsified his academic credentials. There was a lot of shoving back and forth, and the question of whether Tang had actually faked his credentials or not remained unclear until finally a diploma was produced from America’s Pacific Western University.
Who could have guessed that once a quick Internet search was done on this institution it would turn out to be just another so-called “wild chicken university” (野鸡大学) selling off diplomas?
Search a bunch of Jun Tang’s Chinese classmates and you’ll find that they’re all leaders in various fields. Among these, one of his classmates, Yu Jinyong (禹晋永), who is listed by some sources as chairman of the board at the so-called Generation Investment Group (中国世代投资集团) — perhaps because he feels he’s not famous enough, or because he feels a strong sense of fraternity — saw the need to step out and run defense for Jun Tang.
In the end, they’ve run a brave defense, but [Jun Tang’s] degree is still a wild chicken degree all the same, and the human flesh search has heaped all sorts of other scandals on his head. While Yu Jinyong has loudly proclaimed that he intends to sue in order to bring all of these accusers to justice, it’s easy to see that the case isn’t so simple after all. It’s already too late for Yu to shake himself off and come out clean.
Historically, the business world has paid little attention to academic credentials. Even in cases like that of nineteenth century textile giant Zhang Jian (张謇), who was a top scorer on the imperial examinations, people wouldn’t have factored his academic achievements into their business dealings with him. Zhang Jian wasn’t the only literatus of his time to dive into the private sector. But the old man’s successes owed to his business acumen, not to his book smarts.
In the period after economic reforms began, China’s new generation of businesspeople were principally farmers who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Not only were they uneducated, but many in fact were functionally illiterate. They might only have had primary school educations, but they could pride themselves on the fact that they had graduates of Peking University and Tsinghua University working under them.
In recent years, however, businesspeople have begun, and I’m not quite sure why, to pay a great deal of attention to academic credentials (perhaps this has something to do with the ease with which degrees can now be purchased?). If you’ve got some pull, you fork out cash and go earn your EMBA at an elite university. And there are those too who, unable to satisfy their craving for diplomas, go out and get a fake ones. So this Pacific Western University is no doubt making money hand over fist.
A politician using a fake diploma to grab a leadership position, and a scholar finagling his way into a teaching position are fundamentally different matters. And while fake diplomas may be all the rage in the business world, when you’re really sitting down to do business, no fool is going to buy this degree of yours, regardless of whether it’s real or not. For someone like Tang Jun to have several bogus PhDs might deceive young and impressional students if he publishes a book or speaks at a university. But the rest is just narcissism.
If you’re unfortunate enough to be exposed, coming clean at the first available moment is best. If that doesn’t happen, you can still stand up and apologize, saying, look, it was just vanity on my part. I’ll bet most Internet users would then lower their banners and silence their drums. Few people would then be interested in pursuing the matter to its death.
But instead these guys go into denial mode. It’s not just Jun Tang who denies everything. His former classmates step up to help him deny everything. The more they issue denials, the more holes open up, and the more holes open up the more determinedly they issue denials. They’ve denied this whole matter from a tragedy to a comedy.
Just look. Now Yu Jinyong only has to utter a word on his microblog to draw peals of laughter and scorn from the stands. Regardless of whether or not all of the revelations about business trickery appearing online are true, I’m quite sure these men never imagined that they would be reduced so quickly from business success stories to national buffoons.
At one time our nation’s scholars all held the conviction that our neighbor Japan is a culture of shame, a culture where people were unwilling to admit they were wrong. When people refuse to believe there is shame in doing something wrong, coming clean becomes the only indignity. And in the end, it’s us who have become a culture of shame, where no one has compunctions about doing wrong, and where everyone regards compunction as a mark of shame.
This is even truer if you believe you’re a personality. If you’re found to have done wrong, it’s as though the sky is collapsing on your head. In fact, these people see things the other way around — it’s they who have been wronged. After all, they are surrounded by cheats — in fact, everyone’s a cheat — so why must they singled out for censure?
We might even say that our melodic culture has changed into a culture of shame, and the reason for this transformation is our increasingly serious climate of fakery. When people have become entirely desensitized to fakery, the natural response of those who get caught out is to resort to still more acts of fakery, glossing over the original act of fakery.
Even if things get a bit hot on the Internet, how long can the heat really last, after all? Within a few years, they’ll be squeaky clean again. At the very worst, the Internet can only pile up scorn and ridicule. And anyone, theoretically at least, can slide right past [the scandal] — whether they are politicians, academics or businesspeople. Once they’re past it, there’s no need even to remake themselves. They just wipe their faces clean and go right on being the bigwigs they always were.
This editorial appeared originally in Chinese at Southern Metropolis Daily.
Further Reading:
“The Ruminations Of A Reporter Who Once Covered Jun Tang,” ESWN, August 6, 2010
“Chinese Debate Allegations of Fraudulent Credentials,” Wall Street Journal, July 18, 2010
“Former Microsoft chief Tang Jun fights back,” People’s Daily Online (English), July 7, 2010

On July 16, 2010, at 10:09am, Sohu chief executive Zhang Chaoyang (张朝阳) made a post to his Sohu microblog in which he wrote:

The explosion [in growth] of the microblog [in China] has been no easy feat, and it is a major point of progress resulting from the aggregated development of Internet products over the past decade. Discussion forums are collective and decentralized in nature. E-mail is personal, peer-to-peer and delayed. Weblogs are centered on the individual and take the collective into account, but they are not quick and timely. Instant messaging approaches real-time, but is only peer-to-peer. Personal computer products have struggled forward left and right, transforming and becoming universal, and mobile phones have become popular as information tools, in a decade-long process that has created this form of individually-centered interactive Internet product, [the microblog], that enables group relationships, approaches real-time and can be used at any time and place. This is the product of technological progress and transformation in user behavior chosen from among myriad possibilities, and it was not easy. Won’t everyone please treasure it.

This statement [of Zhang’s] sounds on first hearing like an industry expert’s summation of ten years of progress in the development of Internet products. But the final five words about the need to treasure [the microblog] are deeply significant. Who exactly should cherish [this technology]? Are there perhaps people who do not share [Zhang’s sentiment] that “[t]his is the product of technological progress and transformation in user behavior chosen from among myriad possibilities”?
Looking at the situation that has emerged recently at microblog websites in China, we cannot see this call [of Zhang’s] as a random shot.
On July 10 visits to Sina Microblog were suddenly impossible. The service claimed to the outside world that they were in the midst of “security” measures, and only on July 12 was service finally restored. The microblog service at Netease, [another major Internet portal site], began its own “security” measures on July 13, saying that it was “resting due to high traffic volumes.”
Sina Microblog, which has the highest volume of users and has been operating for more than a year, suddenly announced itself as a “beta version” on July 12. This is not all. Aside from QQ.com and Netease, which had been advertised as “beta versions” all along, the microblog services at Sohu.com, Phoenix Online and even the party-backed People’s Daily Online Microblog all put up this “beta version” label or similar statements to that effect.
As a result of this “beta” change, some microblog services have done away with their search functions, and others have placed restrictions on links to content outside the site. The latest development is that newly registering users of the Sina and Sohu microblog services must all submit valid identification and mobile phone numbers for verification. The era of real-name registration for microblogging seems to be upon us.
This year, microblog services have taken off in China, and the density of information they have created, their frequency of dissemination and the degree of connectivity they have enabled for web users far surpass any previous form of Internet use. This is probably the reason microblogs have suddenly drawn such a high degree of attention.
One can see the influence that microblogging has in China simply by looking at recent events. During the Qinhai earthquake the short 140-character online post became the vehicle by which people shared information, conveyed their feelings and offered mutual assistance. It was a microblog writer who revealed that the former Chinese executive for a multinational company had faked his PhD, a revelation that drew the attention of web users to the problem of diploma mills, or so-called “wild chicken universities” (野鸡大学), and tested the credibility of elites.
Recently, when a newspaper reporter exposed related-party transactions by a listed company, local police authorities issued a warrant for his arrest. Tens of thousands of microblog posts were sent out about this incident. Users expressed their views and revealed the immense appetite the Chinese people have for participation in news events. The incident ended with the withdrawal of the arrest warrant by the police.
After the July 28 explosion in the city of Nanjing, web users immediately using microblogs to “report from the scene.” There was some confusion early on about the nature of the explosion, and China Central Television reported that a “gas station had exploded,” but a representative from China Petroleum and Chemical Corporation (SINOPEC) quickly clarified the cause of the incident through their microblog.
Clearly, the defining characteristics of the microblog that Zhang Chaoyang points to — individuality, instantaneity and interactivity — can be seen in abundance in these cases. What is most critical is that these characteristics are not useful to Internet users alone, but can be useful to the government and to the media.
Microblogs can work as tools to gather public opinion, and they can also serve a useful role in communicating with the public. There have already been a number of classic examples of this.
There’s no need even to point to the role microblogs played in online participation during the meetings of the National People’s Congress and Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference this year. Look at our national police network nationally and you find many notable cases.
On June 3, for example, Guangzhou police reported a shooting incident through their microblog, bravely using new media to openly share information about a major sudden-breaking incident, thereby improving the reputation of the police and simultaneously raising the expectations of web users about the possible role of microblogs in sudden-breaking incidents.
The Guangdong Provincial Public Security Department and the police offices of the province’s 21 prefectural-level cities have all launched police microblogs, and this stands as a positive example [to other areas].
Just recently in July, Beijing’s Public Security Department announced the formation of a public relations office, which plans to launch an official microblog in order to help gauge public opinion. Beijing police chief Fu Zhenghua (傅政华) put it aptly when he said at the time: “With the coming of the age of the Internet, there is a clear increase in the independence, selectivity and difference among people’s thoughts and activities. Public opinion about the police must necessarily become a hot topic for various mainstream media, so it’s extremely important for the police to carry out open and timely interaction with the public, the media and disadvantaged groups, and to increase its fair, just, timely and credible publicity efforts (宣传).”
What should especially draw attention is that when the Beijing police answered a question from a reporter who asked how the police would respond to sharp criticism from web users, and whether they would impose restrictions, they responded with an openness that might serve as an example for other government microblogs: “We respect the expressions of web users. As to the question of ordinary public attention and critical opinions, we have prepared ourselves psychologically, and we will meet the questions of citizens head on, and actively reach out to web users, regularly connecting with opinion leaders from various walks of society, seeking understanding and support.”
This is exactly the attitude the government should have toward microblogs.
First, they should recognize that the significance of microblogs far outweighs that of social networking sites, that they have, moreover, a capacity for the expression of views and for political communication, and that they can be used for the mobilization of society.
Second, governments should recognize that microblogs are a gathering place for opinion leaders, especially for the gathering of many professionals in the media, and that they have already to a definite degree become the vanguard (引领者) of other forums in China and of Chinese traditional media. Gaining the understanding and support of these opinion leaders benefits the healthy operation of the government, and helps to mend public confidence.
Third, they should recognize that the voices on microblogs are diverse, and that they can include fierce criticism, and web users are going there seeking not just rhetoric and good tidings, but also reason and facts (理性和真相).
Surveying [microblog] development over the past year, we can say that a kind of microblog politics has already emerged in China.
The microblog is an excellent supporter of sudden-breaking news, an open platform for expression, a strong tool for participation in and deliberation of state affairs, and it is a channel for so-called sunshine governance, [or open governance], that we cannot do without. Naturally, the economic significance of the microblog cannot be overlooked either.
Doing more to open up microblog services would benefit the closing of the gap in Internet technologies, products and influence that presently exists between [China] and the United States, thereby meeting the demands of China’s more than 400 million Internet users.
This is an opportune moment in China for the rise of the microblog. Now that various microblog services [in China] have been transformed into “beta versions,” we can only hope that this as a test run process — allowing for trial and error, allowing for experimentation, and allowing users to develop in an autonomous manner. When Zhang Chaoyang calls on “everyone to please treasure” [the importance of microblogging], this “everyone” includes experimenters and regulators (管理者) [in the government]. Because when it comes down to it, the Internet belongs to everyone in China.
A version of this article appeared originally in Chinese at Southern Metropolis Daily.

The plagiarism case involving the well-known “left” scholar Wang Hui (汪晖) has made ripples in the press lately, and some academics in the West have stepped up to defend Mr. Wang. My own readers have written to me about this. Why, they ask, do Western academics rush to defend such a scholar?
I’ve read only a number of essays by Wang Hui. Nevertheless, I do have some understanding of scholars of Wang’s ilk. Scholars in China who have, like Mr. Wang, been branded with the label “left” tend to criticize Western democratic systems and universal values with an aptitude not greatly unlike that of Western academics. Their scholarship and pronouncements on such matters as “Chinese characteristics” and Chinese models have found some favor among Western academics [for whom such material provides fresh fodder]. As a result, many Western academics enjoy and “respect” these scholars on China’s “left”, and not without their reasons.
It only makes sense that Web users should have trouble separating truth from fact in the Wang Hui case, and that they should end up turning some things on their heads.
I want to use this Wang Hui affair as an opportunity to talk about the academic environment in the West. Allow me, if you will, to approach this topic in a roundabout sort of way. Friends who have read my piece called “Why I do not criticize America” will perhaps remember my experience as a young man being a visiting fellow in the United States. Looking back now, I realize that my academic abilities at that time were almost nonexistent. I was simply a combination of an “educated youth” and a “political angry youth.” Owing to my educational background and my work experience, my head was at the time stuffed full of the idea that “China can say no,” and with various articulations of “unhappy China,” and I was most certainly no less influenced by these ideas than the authors of the two books [dealing principally with these issues], China Can Say No and Unhappy China.
At that time I was avidly pursuing “academic” opportunities in order to seek out opportunities personally, and I would simply cobble together things I recalled from my textbooks and from Chinese newspapers and spill these out cathartically to American scholars and experts. But it was in exactly this way that I earned the “respect” of Americans. Americans listened to me eagerly, and many scholars were quite willing to engage in discussion with me. Some research centers even invited me to give talks, and these were all Washington, D.C., think tanks. How’s that for villainy?
Even more villainous was what came later. When my ideas and attitude later underwent change, when I began to feel that democracy and freedom were pretty decent after all, and also quite suited to us Chinese, when I finally awakened to the realization that being a Chinese person was not about going to great ends to criticize America for the benefit of America’s improvement, and that I would better serve China’s progress by criticizing China, I found that my points of commonality with Western academics were fewer and fewer, up to the point where I ultimately had no interest at all in conversing with them.
The reason for this was simple — they cared about their country and I cared about mine. Many times, when I invited them to talk about their criticisms of China, they were far more interested in talking about my criticisms of America. Humph. What time do I have to criticize your country? I am no traitor, devising strategies for the benefit of your country.
If you don’t get what I’m talking about, just indulge me while I address this issue by talking a bit about the role of intellectuals. The greatest utility of intellectuals lies in their capacity to “sing against” those who hold power, to monitor power, to improve government performance, to encourage national change and promote social progress.
Once we understand this fact, we are ready to ask another question: what constitutes the mainstream of political power in Western nations? What I mean is, would you best characterize the ideas of those holding power as “left” or “right”? Without a doubt, the “right” holds sway – particularly when measured by China’s academic establishment, where all those who advocate democracy and universal values are labeled as “right.”
And if the ideas of those who exercise public power tend to the “right,” when the political establishment is in the hands of the “right,” what should the natural attitude of intellectuals be? Should they like me, Yang Hengjun, spend all day praising universal values, democracy and freedom? Of course not. If this were the case, they would appear as co-opted intellectuals, even lackeys one might say. What we see as a result is a very interesting phenomenon in which the mainstream in Western academia, and most scholars of note, are principally of the “left.” They do not focus particularly on democracy, freedom and universal values, but rather nitpick from within democracy, freedom and universal values, singing songs of opposition to power. Only this kind of scholar earns any respect.
This trend has invited another phenomenon in China, and that is the species of the Chinese “left.” These are scholars who have a rich experience with China, who understand the experiences of China in recent years, and also understand so-called Chinese models (which Western scholars do not adequately understand). Capitalizing on these advantages they find a great deal of welcome in the West.
Let me tell you about an experience I personally found very discouraging. I once told a number of Western professors (not particularly renowned ones) about four well-known mainland liberal intellectuals whose work I particularly enjoyed, and they knew nothing about any of them. When I muttered the names of a couple of Chinese scholars who advocate the “China Model” and attack universal values, however, they were immediately on familiar ground, and they eventually added: you know, Vietnam and Ukraine also have strong scholars like this, who like Western scholars recognize the shortcomings of Western democracy.
How do we explain this phenomenon? First of all, these scholars on China’s “left” cater to the dominant trend in Western academia. After the end of the Cold War, the principal task of Western scholars was no longer exposing the shortcomings of authoritarian and non-democratic systems, but rather “exposing” the failings of democracy. Everyone must work in common to improve the weak points in democratic systems. Naturally, everyone is working for common improvement, and no Western nation is advocating wholesale adoption of Chinese models. From this vantage point, it seems that the ones who are truly helping Westerners improve their democratic systems are not those of us so-called “Western traitors” of the right, but rather those scholars of China’s left who, with a Bethune-like spirit of devotion, praise China’s “experiences” for the benefit of the West even as China is behind by several decades and the quality of life of the Chinese people falls far short.
At the same time, we cannot deny that in the same way the achievements of China’s leftist scholars for humankind are far greater than that of their counterparts on the right in China. Why? Because America points the direction of progress for all of mankind, and helping America improve itself means by extension assisting with the constant progress of humankind’s most advanced social and political system.
Poor scholars of China’s “right,” meanwhile, like this Yang Hengjun, spend too much energy worrying about China in isolation, and rehashing experiences with democracy and universal values that the West finished with long ago.
I’m not at all exaggerating when I make this argument. A number of Chinese on the “left” are in vogue in the West, but if bona fide rightists find their way to American or European universities and lecture there, they will get very little reaction [Wang Hui at NYU]. Just imagine me going to the United States to lecture about democracy, freedom and human rights. Let’s just search our own souls for a moment. Their thinking on democracy and freedom has developed for hundreds or even thousands of years, and their books and essays and works of literature probably couldn’t be stacked up in all the libraries of Beijing. And here’s me, a Chinese who only a few years ago came to know what democracy and freedom really are, coming from a place where just over ten years ago the word “human rights” itself was banned. What can I possibly talk about to my American audience?
If I were a “leftist” it would be completely different. According to my own experiences and observations, I would stand on stage and use stories to show what a mess democracy is, and to show up the glories of all things with Chinese characteristics, so that everyone was teary-eyed and wanted to shout: democracy has bottomed out, and socialism with Chinese characteristics is here to save us all! . . . This really is like hearing the thunderous sounds of silence! Just think, Western scholars have rattled around for centuries in democratic systems, and just when they’re at their wits end, the cannon fire of socialism with Chinese characteristics sounds out, giving them a “post-modern”
experience and theory to sink their teeth into. How could they not welcome this?
When I see on the Internet that those of us who promote democracy and freedom have been broad-brushed as running dogs of the West, that we have been clumped in a “clique of traitors for the West,” I feel the resistance rise in my chest. In fact, if you really want to win favor in the West, the best way is to viciously attack democracy, freedom and universal values without any thought whatsoever to the welfare of the Chinese people, and to paint a portrait of China’s imperial past as an otherworldly paradise. Of course, you can’t forget to secretly send your wife and kids off to live in a Western country [as many of these thinkers on China’s “left” have done].
As we talk about Western academia, there is another thing worthy of note. When a number of us [who do sympathize with democracy] see that Chinese scholars who have lived in the West disapprove of some aspect of democracy, freedom and universal values, we are unhappy and agitated. We think these Chinese have forgotten their brethren back in China and are merely looking after their own interests. This is actually unfair. When someone lives overseas, they must naturally accommodate customs overseas. Scholars living in the West, if they are true intellectuals, can’t merely cozy up to those in power. That they don’t do so doesn’t at all mean they oppose democracy or universal values outright, nor does it mean their consciences have been eaten by the dogs. Quite the opposite, it means they are behaving like professional Western academics. They live in the West, but this doesn’t mean they have to sing songs of praise for the West day in and day out. If they do, even I would have contempt for them . . .
In American politics there is a tendency toward the “right,” and there is much fear of the left. But more relevant for Chinese scholars is the fact that American academia dwarfs the American political establishment. How many Chinese scholars could enter American politics? It’s in academia that scholars spend most of their time, and its in academia that you can make a name for yourself and make a bit of money. Most grants in the United States also come from academia, not from the political establishment. And there is no way whatsoever that the political establishment can control academia. These factors means that the situation is very different from what we see in China, perhaps even diametrically opposite.
This might be the difference that has created confusion for some Internet users who believe that China’s “right” has taken money from the U.S. government. Don’t forget — the money that any three universities in the United States provide to the Chinese side to fund research probably equals what the American government spends on Chinese scholars to carry out so-called “peaceful evolution.” The United States is a very different country from China, where perhaps all university expenditures come from money directly or indirectly provided by the government.
I might have left the impression at this point that Chinese scholars on the left are the true “clique of traitors of the West.” Actually, so long as what you do is true scholarship, you can support or oppose whatever you wish. The world, after all, needs diversity. So long as scholars are not working for any clear interest, so long as they are doing real academic work, they are scholars and should be respected as such. When I look back I think that, had I stayed in the West and really become an overseas Chinese academic, I would definitely have focused my research on criticizing weaknesses in democratic systems and universal values.
But I did return to China after all, and no matter what benefits and honors you shower me with, I won’t live by criticizing and attacking democracy and universal values. The reason is simple. Democracy and universal values have never come to this land, and they have naturally therefore never caused any harm to the people of this country. However, as times change a day might come when democracy and universal values do finally visit us here. Perhaps then I will change colors just like a chameleon, and crawl over to the “left.”
I sincerely hope that day comes quickly when I have the opportunity to really attack democracy, freedom and universal values against my conscience!
This essay originally appeared in Chinese at Yang Hengjun’s Blog.

When college entrance examinations come around each year, testers with top-placing marks become a major topic of conversation. And behind this fever over China’s “top scholars” looms an atmosphere of fierce competition among China’s universities for these top-scoring young students.
For the past two years, as universities in Hong Kong have become hotter commodities on the mainland, the competition for top scorers on the college entrance examinations has become fiercer still, and the smoke of battle rises from all quarters.
Universities with deep pockets, like Peking University and Tsinghua University, have thrown money right and left, so that funds are being poured recklessly into the struggle to draw top-scoring students.
A hangover of China’s imperial examination system, the so-called “top scholars,” [or zhuangyuan (状元),] has always been hotly pursued commodities. In modern times, provinces have touted their “top scorers”, and now cities and even counties have started advertising their own scholastic elites.
Once a top scorer emerges, all paths are cleared for them. Officials step out to praise them. Media report on them. Companies announce their sponsorship . . . Various top-name universities then jump on the bandwagon, doing everything they can to recruit them. There is seemingly no end to the lures and attractions employed to invite interest, and universities send their own recruiters out en masse.
As China’s most esteemed institutions of higher education, with reputations to preserve, Peking University and Tsinghua University have the loftiest of ambitions concerning the scooping up of top test scorers [in the college entrance examinations].
But is there really so much value in these top scholars? Those who are familiar with Chinese history know that in the past top test results could open big doors. Still, precious few top testers ever accomplished anything of note, and fewer still achieved great things as officials [in the imperial government] . . .
Standardized tests have always borne a large measure of unpredictability. Most often where one places on the roster of test results reveals nothing, and high test scores do not reflect true ability or scholarship. If the testing content is unreasonable, test results are even less objectively reflective of a person’s level, much less their scholastic potential.
Generally speaking, so-called “top scorers” from ancient times to now were talented people, but that did not mean that they were “the best under heaven.” History teaches us that “top scorers” were those who had the highest scores among all testers, but this has no particular value in and of itself, and even less does it mean that [the top scorers] were of more value than the rest of those scoring favorably or toward the top. Anyone interested in researching the question could easily go and look at how many of the success stories in our society have been top test scorers.
I am sure the ladies and gentlemen at Peking University and Tsinghua University, which represent the pinnacle of our higher education system, completely understand what I’m talking about here. To make the point more directly, all of this running around and dumping of resources to scoop up top testers has very little to do with education. It is nothing more than a futile exercise in preserving the elite status of one’s own institution.
In the past, before universities in Hong Kong had entered the competition for top scorers, top scorers from various provinces generally went to Tsinghua University or Peking University. In recent years, as Hong Kong universities have stepped into the game, Chinese institutions sense a real danger that top scorers will be lost, and the media have also jumped on this story about the threat to the excellence of Peking University and Tsinghua University. This is why we’re seeing this situation now.
In fact, not long after the college entrance examinations were re-instituted, the competition for top scorers became the focus of the struggle for status among universities. As the state poured funds into Peking University and Tsinghua University, other universities could no longer compete with these front-running institutions in terms of attracting students. Competing for top scorers therefore became a two-sided battle between these universities, a way of showing up their “greatness,” so that whoever attracted the most top scorers was seen to have the edge, and no outsiders could even compete. Suddenly, competitors have emerged on the scene — and strong academic competitors moreover — so they begin to feel a sense of danger and crisis.
A sense of danger is a good thing, always better than taking one’s strength for granted. But the competition facing Peking University and Tsinghua from a number of well-known universities in Hong Kong comes not from the size of the scholarships on offer, but from academic freedom, from the quality of their teaching methods, from their international outlook, from the strength of their library and information resources. Our top universities do not make an effort to compete on these fronts, but seek only to offer financial incentives, which amounts to buying people over and not to true competitiveness.
The University of Hong Kong is a mirror on ourselves that is less distant that other elite universities. Because the admissions and enrollment capacity of HKU is limited, there is no way it can run off with all of our top-scoring students. But this mirror brings our own maladies and deformities into sharp relief. If we do not address our shortcomings, and if we do not wipe away the stains that blacken our own face, but rather respond only with more robust efforts [at the same sort of game], then there is really no way to save us.
This editorial originally appeared in Chinese at Southern Metropolis Daily.
Homepage image of China’s Beihang University by Peiyu Liu available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.

On June 28, more than one-hundred Chinese journalists and scholars signed an open letter pledging a professional boycott of the Chongqing Morning Post, a commercial spin-off of the official Chongqing Daily, after the newspaper issued a statement on June 24 refuting alleged “fake reports” about police investigations of three of its employees suspected of sharing “unacceptable” content in the wake of a police raid of the Hilton Chongqing.
Journalists signing the statement argued that the June 24 statement by the Chongqing Morning Post violated the spirit of professional solidarity by attacking colleagues who were merely exercising a professional obligation to report the story of the police investigation.
According to a June 24 story from China’s Economic Observer newspaper, a reporter with the Chongqing Morning Post was sentenced to labor re-education after posting “unacceptable speech” on the Tianya Forum in the wake of the raid on the Hilton Chongqing.
The Economic Observer also said two other reporters from Chongqing Morning Post were taken in for questioning by police after sharing “unacceptable content” (不当内容) through the QQ instant messaging service.
The next day, June 25, the Beijing News confirmed that Chongqing Morning Post reporters Chen Songbo (陈宋波) and Qiu Jinyi (裘晋奕), and an employee for the paper’s website, Liao Yi (廖异), had been investigated. Chen and Qiu had reportedly returned to work, the newspaper said, while Liao was still being investigated.
Signers of the letter of boycott against the Chongqing Morning Post include many well-known liberal figures in China’s media.
A full translation of the letter follows:

Personal Letter of Sanction Concerning the Intimidation of Professional Colleagues by the Chongqing Morning Post
On June 24, the Chongqing Morning Post openly refuted an [alleged] rumor about one of its journalists being sentenced to re-education through labor, issuing a statement saying: “[Our newspaper] hopes that various media keep strictly to professional ethics, that they pay no heed to idle reports and do not transmit untrue information. As for those rumor-mongers who invent stories from nothing, our newspaper reserves the right to pursue the relevant persons and hold them legally responsible.”
We believe that the Chongqing Morning Post has engaged in the intimidation of its brother media and fellow journalists, that this intimidation does not accord with professional ethics and behavior, and that it must therefore by condemned.
Even as the Chongqing Morning Post has issued its refutation, it has not yet made any statements concerning the specific nature of the situation, or concerning what faces the three reporters who have been investigated by Chongqing police. In fact, police in Chongqing have been more forthcoming than the Chongqing Morning Post, openly confirming that three Morning Post reporters have been investigated and suggesting that rumors that a journalist had been sentenced to re-education through labor were not entirely unfounded. The brief report from a journalist with the Economic Observer [that in part prompted the refutation from Chongqing Morning Post] stated clearly in its text that it would “follow up with further news reports,” and that “this information has not been confirmed by official sources.” This accords entirely with [the spirit of] follow-up reporting and can be regarded as professional journalism conduct satisfying the public’s right to know. It accords with normal fact seeking and follow-up reporting, and is not “fake news” [as the Chongqing Morning Post has suggested]. As the journalists are being investigated by the police, and in a high-risk environment in which the outcome is difficult to foresee, the early entry of professional journalism colleagues (“brother media”), which can push transparent handling of the situation through open reporting, is necessary to safeguard the [the rights of the] journalists. This is a moving act of mutual aid and regard.
However, toward this just action by brother media, the Chongqing Morning Post shows contempt with its so-called statement of refutation. Just as universities have an obligation to protect their students and professors, media have an obligation to protect their own editors and reporters. The recent move by China Economic Times editor Bao Yueyang to protect the right of Wang Keqin (王克勤) to carry out normal reporting activities [in the fallout resulting from Wang’s report on the problem vaccines in Shanxi Province earlier this year], and the protection of its own by the Nanfang Daily Group in the misfortunes that followed [the reporting of] the Sun Zhigang affair [in 2003], have both drawn respect and praise from journalism colleagues around the country. Of course, we also know that not all of those responsible at our media have this level of moral consciousness, and that they must do the bidding of power in order to protect their own official status. This is something we can understand to a certain degree. But regardless of this, they must submit themselves to rule and control to an unlimited extent.
不能臣服chen fu/submit oneself to the rule of到毫无气节的程度。
Not only is Chongqing Morning Post incapable of protecting its own journalists, and not only has it proven incapable of revealing the truth, but it goes as far as to carry out threats and intimidation against its brother media and professional colleagues. Facing open suppression of speech, it elects not to huddle together in professional solidarity, but quite the opposite strikes out against its own colleagues in the profession. These unimaginable actions leave us angry and cold in our hearts.
Under the current system, it is difficult indeed to find restitution for violations of our rights and interests. However, we can still express our positions in a personal capacity. We can decide to stand up and protect ourselves. Beginning here, we make our professional principles clear, guard our professional honor and dignity, and build anew our professional community (职业共同体).
For this, we call on our media colleagues to involve themselves in the investigation of the facts in this case to the widest extent possible, getting to the bottom of the unfolding events. We announce that from this day forward, we will engage in no personal cooperation with Chongqing Morning Post on no level, including but not limited to:
1. Not subscribing to Chongqing Morning Post
2. Not participating in any meetings or other activities sponsored by Chongqing Morning Post
3. Not publishing any works in any form in Chongqing Morning Post
4. Not having any other business cooperation with Chongqing Morning Post
The abovementioned personal sanctions will considered in effect up until the point that the Chongqing Morning Post issues a public explanation and apology to its brother media and fellow journalists concerning its so-called statements denouncing rumors.
June 28, 2010
SIGNED . . .
白振侠 北京 自由职业者
陈斌 广州 媒体人
陈鸣 北京 媒体人
陈思 广州 媒体人
陈初越 广州 媒体人
陈江 北京 媒体人
陈卫民 北京 思考者
崔卫平 北京 学者
邓志新 广州 媒体人
邓飞 北京 媒体人
邓莉 重庆 新闻专业研究生
戴志勇 广州 媒体人
大雪封山 北京 媒体人
董啸 长春 媒体人
丰鸿平 北京 媒体人
顾海兵 北京 学者
韩洪刚 广州 媒体人
郝建 北京 学者
何雪峰 广州 媒体人
何忠洲 北京 媒体人
何满　广州　媒体人
韩浩月 北京 媒体人
航亿苇 广州 作家
华新民 北京 学者
靳树乾 珠海 媒体人
靳颖姝 北京 媒体人
康不德 广州 媒体人
高战 广州 媒体人
郭力 广州 媒体人
郭延洪 宁波 学生
林涛 广州 媒体人
林明理 浙江 教师/作者
林峰 广州 媒体人
李冰 北京 媒体人
李铁 广州 媒体人
李思磐 广州 媒体人
李千帆 广州 时评作者
李宗泽 西安 大学生
李解 济南 媒体人
李公明 广州 学者
李藜 成都 媒体人
李继锋 广州 媒体人
梁文道 香港 评论人
刘洪波 武汉 评论人
刘海龙 石家庄 大学生
令狐补充 广州 媒体人
卢为健 上海 学生
梁鸿兴 云南 媒体人
吕明合 杭州 媒体人
雒有谋 黑龙江 教师
兰燕飞 北京 媒体人
老鬼 重庆 音乐人
江南藜果 广州 前媒体人
冒安林 北京 媒体人
马书军 广州 中国公民
马尔西 北京 公共关系行业
牧沐 海南 媒体人
苗蛮子 广州 媒体人
茅明荣 北京 编辑
聂亮超 广州 学生
彭晓芸 广州 媒体人
彭远文 北京 媒体人
彭伟步 广州 传媒学者
彭至 四川 媒体人
彭有明 深圳 IT媒體
潘葱霞 广州 媒体人
朴抱一 上海 记者
盛大林 北京 专栏作家
秦轩 北京 媒体人
史哲 广州 媒体人
石扉客 上海 媒体人
石川 杭州 新闻专业学生
单小亮 广州 媒体人
宋石男 成都 评论人
孙旭培 武汉 学者
苏小和 北京 财经作家
沙之白 内蒙古 自由职业者
沈敏特 南京 文化评论家
stone 上海 记者/作家
田路 北京 媒体人
陶卫华 北京 媒体人
王克勤 北京 媒体人
王力雄 北京 作家
王吉陆 上海 媒体人
王则楚 广州 政府参事
王小山 北京 专栏作家
五岳散人 北京 媒体人
文涛 北京 前媒体人
吴娟 广州 媒体人
吴明良 广州 媒体人
吴君强 北京 媒体人
魏剑美 湖南 专栏作者
王安 北京 媒体人
徐伟 广州 媒体人
笑蜀 广州 媒体人
萧瀚 北京 教师
徐庆全 北京 媒体人
徐益平 杭州 媒体人
许佳 上海 作家，媒体人
许晖 自由作家 北京
向继东 湖南 媒体人
夏业良 北京 学者
谢良兵 北京 媒体人
谢许牧秋 杭州 媒体人
叶檀 上海 专栏作家
余以为 广州 媒体人
鄢烈山 广州 媒体人
杨早 北京 学者
杨维维 武汉 学生
易水寒 长春 专栏作家
姚文嚼字 山西 网民
袁剑 独立评论人
章文 北京 媒体人
张若尘 河北 教师
张立 北京 前媒体人
张耀杰 北京 时评作者
张强 广州 媒体人
张初亮 上海 媒体人
张彦河 山西 评论人
朱新民 北京 网络工作者
朱健 杭州 媒体人
左小刀 北京 媒体人
郑建峰 北京 媒体人
郑渊洁 北京 童话作家
郑褚 成都 媒体人
翟明磊 上海 媒体人
子夜的昙 成都 媒体人
子莫 自由职业者
啄木 上海 教师
2可器 广州 媒体人
截至2010年7月1日23:00

Whether you’re a Chinese expert scholar, an ordinary citizen or a government official, you are sure to find things helpful in solving of current problems in China from a study of the questions Westerners debate in their media, and how they debate these questions.