By Emma Lupano — As the internet has grown rapidly in China in recent years, there has been an attendant upsurge in cases where ordinary citizens (公民), or “netizens” (网民), are arrested, jailed or otherwise punished for things they dared to write. The latest case to have Web users up in arms involves the alleged sacking of a substitute professor at Hubei University for Nationalities after the teacher wrote an entry on his personal weblog criticizing the school’s anniversary celebrations. [Frontpage photo by Amy Pony available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.]
The case, involving 50 year-old teacher Guo Guanglin (郭广林), has drawn a flurry of coverage in the commercial media over the last week, and it has once again resurrected that age-old term denoting the violent repression of speech — “to incur guilt by one’s words,” or wenziyu (文字狱).
In Chinese, the three-character phrase has great economy of meaning. Packed inside is the basic notion, very much a reality during China’s dynastic past, that one could incur guilt simply by virtue of inferences the emperor and his associates might make from one’s writings. Guilt, in other words, could be read between the lines.
“To incur guilt by one’s words” is now an increasingly popular buzzword denoting official action taken against ordinary citizens who speak their minds in spaces — like blogs, chatrooms and SMS messages — where the line between the personal and the public is blurred. But the term can also be used to point generally to more egregious examples of censorship.
A related and more direct phrase in Chinese is “incurring guilt by one’s words,” or yin yan huo zui (因言获罪).
A decision by China’s General Administration of Press and Publication (GAPP) in early 2007 to ban eight books was vigorously attacked by journalists, scholars and others, and “wenziyu” was tossed around. The incident was highly embarrasing for GAPP’s man-in-charge, Wu Shulin (邬书林). [Click here for Wu Shulin’s comments on the ban from the SCMP via Danwei.org].
One of the most classic “wenziyu” cases in recent years was the arrest in 2006 of government worker Qin Zhongfei (秦中飞), who wrote a satirical poem about local leaders in Chongqing and distributed it by SMS to personal friends. The case is often referred to now as the “Pengshui SMS case.”
The first Chinese newspaper to run with the story of substitute professor Guo Guanglin was Hebei’s commercial Chutian Metropolis Daily (楚天都市报). In a page four story on November 7, the paper reported that Guo was dismissed after writing a post on his personal weblog in which he criticized the way Hubei University for Nationalities had managed a celebration of the school’s 70th anniversary.

The Chutian Metropolis Daily story said that on October 9, when Guo was still under the employment of Hubei University for Nationalities, he made a blog post called something like, “Dubious, Unclear and Superficial” (不明不白、不三不四、不痛不痒), in which he said essentially that the anniversary ceremony had veered from its purpose and served only as a narrow money-making ploy. “Seeing it made people sick,” Guo allegedly wrote. 
As soon as the post hit the Web, other blogs and websites began republishing it, often giving it conspicuous placement, according to Chutian Metropolis Daily. The post also drew waves of comments from web users.
Guo was subsequently dismissed by the school, and the Chutian Metropolis Daily report quoted him saying he believed he had been dismissed because university officials were unhappy with his post.
Earlier this week, CMP fellow Zhang Ming, himself a well-known Chinese blogger, wrote an editorial for Southern Metropolis Daily in which he criticized the Guo Guanglin case, relating it to the Pengshui SMS case, what he called “incurring guilt through SMS” (手机短信文字狱).
An outspoken critic of China’s higher education system, Zhang Ming also condemns the habitual subordination of university professors to school officials. He expresses the hope that more people will stand up and say “unpleasantries” (不中听的话): “But to be perfectily honest, if we had more of these death-seekers [who speak unpleasantries] in our universities we could at the very least lessen the pace of their decline,” he said.

[ABOVE: Zhang Ming’s editorial on the Guo Guanglin case and “wenziyu” at Southern Metropolis Daily, November 10, 2008.]

“Once Again, Guilt by Blog” (又见博客文字狱)
The idea that one can incur guilt by one’s words is something all emperors relish. As we know from our history books, the Chinese empire as an institution ended with the Xinhai Revolution back in 1911. And yet, emperors in disguise, particularly local despots, have never as a race disappeared. In the information age, we’ve seen case after case of guilt incurred by SMS . . . and now we have guilt by blog (博客文字狱). A substitute teacher at Hubei University for Nationalities was sacked recently for criticizing on his own blog the overwrought luxury of a ceremony held in honor of the school’s anniversary.
Last year, when I criticized the chief of a school on my personal weblog, many friends told me I was fortunate not to have been sacked after my post created such a big stir. Actually, I had mentally prepared myself at the time for dismissal. Had the school sacked me, I feel certain they would have found a proper pretext, just like these other instances of guilt by SMS. Even though they didn’t dismiss me, I know the school and related departments were very unhappy with my exposure of the institution’s darker side.
Officials are only human, and they like hearing pleasantries. If something negative happens one day in their own courtyard, their first instinct is to stave off reporters, afraid that their dark secrets will be revealed to the outside world . . . Whoever the leader, they all talk about how opinions should be expressed through the proper channels. But what if you do voice [your opinions] through the proper channels? Speaking from my own personal experience I can say that this is as worthless as dropping a stone into the sea, except that if you do things badly it can have the exact opposite effect. As soon as you make a report, the guy on the receiving end of the criticism knows it, and because leaders at the top tend to trust leaders at the middle, you’re the one who has to go fleeing for the hills like a bandit.
Compared with the stir I caused last year, this professor from Hubei University for Nationalities caused no harm and revealed nothing untoward. And still the school’s leaders were unhappy. An anniversary is an occassion when school leaders flaunt their achievements. You can pass by not flattering them, but saying ugly things, now how is that acceptable? And so this teacher of ours can only head down the road of dismissal.
Cases like this of incurring guilt by words at a university has to make us ask ourselves: what kind of places are our universities? Are they yamen‘s like these county-level bureaucracies, where we see cases of “SMS wenziyu” happening all the time? What kind of relationship do university teachers have to the leaders who control them at various levels? Is it a simple hierarchical relationship [like that in the official bureaucracy]? In other words, can we say that professors are subordinate and department heads and school officials their superiors? In my opinion, according to the past norms and international practice, professors should not be subordinate to school managers.
But this personal opinion is regarded in Chinese universities as anathema. Without exception, school officials believe professors are their subordinates no matter how knowledgeable they may be, or how strong their connections are. Actually, I believe the vast majority of professors think this way too. This is to say, within universities the relationships between the professor and the department head, the department head and the colleage head, the college head and the school president, is like those between lower-level county government functionaries and department heads, department heads and the party secretary — relationships of superiors to subordinates. Separated by professors with so many levels of bureaucracy, school leaders already regard it as a mark of respect, of regarding your expertise, that they do not see you as a mere slave.
Regardless of how resentful we feel, we have to admit that incurring guilt for one’s words, no matter what the form, is understandable within the government bureaucracy. In circumstances when there is such a storm in a government department, (where) power implies everything, which means that if you have the power you can control even the words of your people, (to speak) unpleasant words does not mean to take risks? To tell the truth, if in our universities there were a little more people taking risks like this, then at least the decline of our university would slow down. In such vertical hierarchies of officialdom, power means everything. Isn’t it like asking for death to speak curses or unpleasantries about the person who controls you? But to be perfectily honest, if we had more of these death-seekers in our universities we could at the very least lessen the pace of their decline.

[Posted by Emma Lupano, November 13, 2008, 4:14pm HK]

By David Bandurski — The rights movement by taxi drivers in China is a long and discouraging saga, stretching back at least to the mid-1990s. However officials in Chongqing might have characterized the root causes of last week’s taxi strike — rising fees, unlicensed taxi operators and fuel shortages — the larger story is one of systematic abuse by taxi cartels with the active help and participation of local party and government officials.
Xujun Eberlein wrote on November 9 that . . .

Evidently, China is changing. It would have been better if the government noticed the problems before an extreme measure like a strike had to be taken, but that might be too high an expectation of any government.

. . . and yet the truth is that these problems have festered in China for more than a decade.
CMP fellow Wang Keqin‘s (王克勤) breakthrough report six years ago was the boldest attempt on record to expose and grapple with these problems. It was followed by the drafting of a reform plan for the industry by the Development Research Center of the State Council that Wang says eventually fizzled in China’s vast bureaucracy.
Wang tells us too — look for an updated chapter in CMP’s volume on investigative reporting in China, to be published by Hong Kong University Press in 2009 — that former Premier Zhu Rongji (朱镕基) had criticized corruption in the taxi industry as early as 2001:

Wang found a 2001 article from China Market magazine quoting Premier Zhu Rongji, the head of China’s cabinet, as criticizing the nationwide taxi industry before a meeting of Party leaders. According to a researcher cited in the China Market report, Zhu Rongji compared the tactics of taxi companies to those of the Green Gang, a mafia-style crime group that had operated in pre-Communist Shanghai. The premier, said the article, had even sent his wife on an undercover fact-finding mission in which she rode taxis and spoke with drivers about their situation.

Chinese media reported yesterday that taxi strikes have now occurred in at least two other provinces.
The important thing to recognize first of all is that the issues underlying these taxi strikes are not newly emerging, nor are they news to party officials.
But the handling of these incidents reveals some interesting trends (and inconsistencies) in China’s press control policy. There is a great deal of ground to cover, but we’ll do our best.
When the taxi strike occurred in Chongqing last week, news coverage unfolded as a virtual textbook case in Hu Jintao’s new, more active approach to “guidance of public opinion,” what one top Chinese editor aptly called on a recent visit to Hong Kong, “Control 2.0.”
As we wrote in our analysis of Hu Jintao’s June 2008 media policy speech, the March unrest in Tibet and the May 12 Sichuan earthquake offered party leaders very different lessons about information control.
In the case of Tibet, China sealed off the region, creating a vacuum in which international media took the lead in the agenda setting process. Many leaders felt that these actions had meant that China completely lost control of the agenda.
By contrast, coverage of the Sichuan quake was relatively open, particularly during the early stages, and this enabled China to set the agenda and project a favorable international image.
Hu reiterated this point in his June speech, in which he said:

In the struggle that followed the recent earthquake disaster, we quickly released information about the disaster and the relief effort . . . earning high praise from cadres and the people, and also earning the esteem of the international community.

One of the key characteristics of Control 2.0 is the active setting of the agenda through rapid but selective news coverage by critical state media such as Xinhua News Agency, China Central Television and People’s Daily.
This is what Hu Jintao meant when he said in June that the media needs to “actively set the agenda” (主动设置议题), an echo of April remarks (post-Tibet) in which he said state media needed to keep a firm grasp on initiative in reporting (报道的主动权):

We must perfect our system of news release, and improve our system for news reports on sudden-breaking public events, releasing authoritative information at the earliest moment, raising timeliness, increasing transparency, and firmly grasping the initiative in news propaganda work.

“Initiative” on the part of core state media is complemented by traditional control tactics, notably propaganda department directives that instruct media to stay within the bounds of coverage by Xinhua, People’s Daily and company.
The Chongqing taxi strike began at approximately 5:30am on November 3. An “authoritative” Xinhua version was out by afternoon, and from that point on state news coverage drove the agenda.
News hit papers across the country the next morning, like these stories from Shanghai’s Wen Hui Bao, Changsha Evening Post, Southern Metropolis Daily (online version of newspaper page A14), Shanghai’s Oriental Morning Post . . .

. . . and many, many more — all using virtually identical versions of the same Xinhua News Agency report.
According to our database search, the Xinhua report ran in at least 100 newspapers across the country on November 4, both party and commercial. Here is a portion of that story:

“Four factors become the ‘fuse’ in the transport strike”
On the morning of November 3, as many Chongqing residents were preparing to “hail a cab” to get to work, trying to make trains and airline flights, they discovered that the taxis they generally saw running through the streets were nowhere to be seen.
Wide-scale taxi strike occurs in the primary urban area of Chongqing city.
Taxi strike affects the lives of the public.
Even since October 30, whispers of a transport strike on November 3 had passed through the taxi industry in Chongqing. On the morning of November 3 rumors of a transport strike became real.
The reporter learned from police officials in Chongqing that around 5:30am on the morning [of November 3] a number of taxi owners and drivers arrived at Chongqing’s Guanyin Bridge, Yanggong Bridge (杨公桥) and a number of other important sections of road and began urging taxis on the road to participate in a transport strike. A number of taxis still in operation were attacked and vandalized.
By around 7am no more taxis could be seen on the streets and in the alleys of Chongqing. Along a stretch of New South Road in Chongqing’s Yubei District, the reporter saw a number of disgruntled passengers waiting for taxis. When they heard there was a transport strike they hurried off to catch buses. The reporter personally witnessed that taxis were not to be seen at least six Chongqing districts . . .
Even though the transport strike has brought inconveniences for city residents, many people and web users have expressed their understanding of the strike, and believe the objective of [of drivers] is not to increase prices but to get the government and companies to lower regulatory fees and to fight against instances of corruption.
The reporter learned that taxi operators in Chongqing had on several occasions expressed to government offices that they were troubled by fuel shortages, low taxi fares, numerous penalties and other problems, but their complaints went unresolved and the problems grew worse and worse . . .

In the days that followed, editorials in most of the major commercial newspapers added some variety to “coverage” of the strike, but news coverage was solidly Xinhua News Agency.
A follow-up Xinhua news report on November 5 explained the actions taken by the Chongqing government to resolve the strike:

Xinhua News Agency, Chongqing, November 4 (reporters Wang Jintao, Zhu Wei) — The reporters learned from the Chongqing Committee of Communications (重庆市交委) on the 4th that by 2pm on the 4th half of the taxis in the principal city area had resumed operations. A spokesperson from the Chongqing Municipal Government said on the 4th that the raising of “taxi portions” (份儿钱) [levied on drivers] by taxi companies without first seeking [government] approval was an illegal practice, and the city government has decided to staunchly correct this practice of daring to raise industry fees, instructing taxi companies to return “taxi portions” to their 2007 level. As to this, a number of taxi companies have expressed their support [for this measure].
Liang Peijun (梁培军), head of the Chongqing Committee of Communications, said that by 2pm on the 4th half of the city’s taxis had resumed operations. Chongqing now has 34 taxi companies with fleets of 100 or more vehicles, and a total of close to 8,000 taxis.
But the reporters saw that on the streets the majority of taxis still had their overhead lights switched off because they were afraid of [their cars] being vandalized or intercepted. The reporters also learned that a number of working taxis are being operated by taxi company personnel, relatives, friends and other relief drivers.
Liang Peijun said that in order to get taxis back on the road taxi companies had pledged to drivers that they would bear all costs stemming from vandalization and that they would waive today’s “taxi portions.” But a number of drivers continued to fear for their safe operation.
Concerning the cessation of operations by taxis in the city, a spokesperson for the Chongqing Municipal Government said the causes of the incident were natural gas refueling difficulties, the operation of illegal taxis and a number of other factors, but the primary reason was as 50 to 70 yuan increase this year in the daily “taxi portion” [charged to drivers] by taxi companies [in the city], resulting in an annual income decline of more than 20,000 yuan for taxi operators. This placed serious pressure on taxi drivers, exacerbated their difficulties, and caused this social incident.
After the incident occurred, the Chongqing Party Committee and the city government looked earnestly into the matter. The Chongqing government said formally that the raising of “taxi portions” (份儿钱) [levied on drivers] by taxi companies without first seeking [government] approval was an illegal practice.

The series of Xinhua reports on the Chongqing taxi strike is important evidence of the changing nature of media control in China, of the emergence of Control 2.0. But we can also glimpse important changes in the Xinhua coverage itself.
One of the most noticeable changes is the use by Xinhua of the term “transport strike,” or bayun (罢运), which points clearly to a rights struggle and is far less neutral in tone than the “mass incident” designation generally used for such news by state media.
If the business of media control was business as usual in China, Monday’s taxi strike in Chongqing might have become just another obscure “mass incident” (群体性事件) swept onto the dust heap of official party statistics. But this time Xinhua does not flinch from the slightly more incendiary “strike,” and the word is promoted to the headline at many newspapers.
For the record, this is not the first time the term “transport strike” has been applied in China’s media, but it does seem to be the first time it has been used in authoritative state media news releases.
In the past, party media have almost universally used more ambiguous or sanitized terms like “ceased operation”, or tingyun (停运), to refer to strikes by taxi drivers — the rare exception is Guangdong’s more liberal Nanfang Daily. When protests staged by taxi drivers have been reported, as several have since the turn of the century, it is commercial media that have stepped up and used the term “strike.”
When drivers staged protests in Ningxia’s Yinchuan in July 2004, the story was carried in close to 60 papers nationwide. But only 16 used the term “transport strike” to refer to the Yinchuan incident, and with the exception of Xi’an Daily and Nanfang Daily, all were commercial newspapers (or hybrids): Weekly Digest (每周文摘), Yangcheng Evening News (羊城晚报), 重庆晨报, 华西都市报, New Express (新快报), Beijing Youth Daily (北京青年报), Lanzhou Morning Post (兰州晨报), Youth Daily Shanghai (青年报上海), Chengdu Evening News (成都晚报), Chongqing Evening News (重庆晚报), and Southern Metropolis Daily (南方都市报).
Returning to coverage of the Chongqing strike last week, a subsequent face-to-face consultation between Chongqing officials and taxi drivers, broadcast live on November 6, added another layer to the official version of the story at mid-week and showed just how effective the party’s new hybrid approach to information (essentially, throwing open the windows for state media and closing the doors on commercial media) can be.
The day of the live-broadcast consultation, a veteran journalist at the Beijing Evening News commented on changes in state media coverage of the taxi strike story. He noted the dominance of Xinhua reports and the use of the term “strike.”
But the journalist also suggested that the party’s version of the root causes of the strike was insufficient. In a reference to China’s recent poisonous milk scandal, he wrote that the “problem of management fees (管理费) is the melamine of the taxi industry [in China], and if this festering problem isn’t dealt with then problems will likely persist”:

I trust that a lot of readers of this paper could not put down the report yesterday about taxi drivers in Chongqing staging a strike. I’m confident that I read a few reports more [on this] than your average reader, and aside from this report [as it appeared in the Beijing Evening News] I read a number of other papers. The content was largely the same, bearing only slight differences, or no differences at all, and they were all according to Xinhua News Agency dispatches, or the “Xinhua viewpoint” (新华视点). The headlines were somewhat different, like “Chongqing taxis hold large-scale strike,” or “Collective strike by Chongqing taxis,” etc.
This was an impartial, objective and rather detailed and truthful news report with a high degree of credibility. As a journalist with thirty years of experience, I saw a number of things that were well worth exploring, and I want to share these with readers.
According to the Xinhua report “a wide-scale taxi strike occured in the primary urban area of Chongqing.” According to convention, we generally avoid mention of the term “transport strike” (罢运) or “workers strike” (罢工) in news reports because these have a rather obvious tint of class struggle about them. For events of this nature, which of course are quite normal occurrences in many countries, we generally append the term “mass incidents” (群体性事件). But the problem with this term “mass incidents” is its total lack of specificity. What kind of “mass”? Which “mass”? “Transport strike” is quite clear by comparison — it means that the taxi drivers have gone on strike, and there’s no ambiguity, no mistaken impression that taxi companies are also taking part [this is drivers against companies, in other words]. Ordinarily, transport strikes or work strikes entail workers upholding and pleading for their own economic rights against the government or companies.
This is precisely the case in this Chongqing taxi strike. The Xinhua News Agency report says: “Even though the transport strike has brought inconveniences for city residents, many people and web users have expressed their understanding of the strike, and believe the objective of [of drivers] is not to increase prices but to get the government and companies to lower regulatory fees and to fight against instances of corruption.”
. . . Liang Peijun (梁培军), deputy head of the Chongqing Committee of Communications said in his analysis of the four reasons behind the transport strike that the primary reason was a conflict between drivers and taxi companies over distribution of payments. This analysis is accurate, but it is insufficient, falling short of the key source of conflict. The problem of management fees (管理费) is the melamine of the taxi industry [in China], and if this festering problem isn’t dealt with then problems will likely persist with periods of varying intensity. This transport strike could be considered a rather intense case [of manifestation of underlying tensions].

As Xinhua continued to dominate the news, and the facts therefore remained unchanged, one could only turn to the editorial pages for fresher voices.
On November 9, for example, a professor from Shanghai’s Fudan University wrote an editorial in Southern Metropolis Daily called, “Why Is It That [They] Can Resolve Their Problems Only By Striking?,” that urged the government to look into the question of why nothing was done earlier about problems in Chongqing’s taxi industry:

I noticed that the government in Chongqing has issued a stern notice to those lawbreakers who thwarted the normal operations of the city [by striking violently], and that those who violated the law must face the necessary punishment. This is completely understandable. But we should distinguish those extreme acts that occured in the midst of a “transport strike” set off because relevant government offices did not take timely action. Specifically, we should draw a line before and after the government took action. The government cannot escape blame for those acts that took place before this line, and so it cannot unilaterally seek responsibility for them. And as for the long period of inaction and negligence on the part of departments in charge [transportation department, etc], responsibility should be sought according to the law.

Judging by the example of Chongqing, one might have supposed protests by taxi drivers this week in Hainan and Gansu would be handled in much the same way, with Xinhua News Agency monopolizing the facts. So far, that doesn’t seem to have entirely happened.
On the first day of coverage yesterday, some reports in commercial media were dominated by official news. For example, the Chongqing Evening Post, a commercial newspaper in the city where last week’s taxi strike occurred, sourced its news from Xinhua and People’s Daily.
In a separate report on the Sanya strike yesterday, The Beijing News relied on reports from Xinhua News Agency but added details from Hainan Special Zone News (海南特区报) and Nanguo Metropolis Daily (南国都市报). The paper’s news coverage was accompanied by an editorial in which Liu Hongbo (刘洪波) expressed the hope that moves to resolve the disputes in Chongqing and Sanya signaled that China has moved away from violent confrontation and into an era of rational negotiation between various interests.
Giving today’s coverage a quick glance, it seems there is little variety in news coverage, a suggestion that perhaps the party has reigned in any independent reporting — that is, reporting NOT by Xinhua. But we’ll need a bit of time to see how coverage plays out.
Once again, it is in the editorial pages that things are really getting interesting. One area in particular is the discussion of demands by taxi drivers that they be allowed to form their own association to defend their rights and interests.
Here, for example, is Yang Tao (杨涛) on page 30 of today’s Southern Metropolis Daily, in a piece whose call against taxi industry cartels bears strong echoes of Wang Keqin’s 2002 investigative report into the industry:

. . . And so I think that if we want to change this chaotic state of affairs in which “taxi portions” (份儿钱) are far too high, then we must break through the monopolization of the taxi industry, thoroughly introducing competitive mechanisms, dissolving taxi companies [which mediate licensing and control access to the industry], dissolving “taxi portions” and allowing drivers to be regulated directly by the government . . .
Another advantage of giving taxi drivers “their own organization” is that if they are legally organized then this will prevent the emergence of underground organizations [such as taxi mafias], benefitting social order and stability. Those taxi drivers who participated in taxi strikes to uphold their own vested interests “attacked and vandalized” “more than 10 taxis normally operating” because they hoped these drivers would not “hitch a ride,” that they would not seek to benefit from their misfortunes and that they could unite in action. If a lawful organization existed to coordinate their activities, it might serve as a check on its members and this sort of vandalism might be prevented.

MORE CHINESE EDITORIALS:
“Why [Official] Labor Unions Weren’t Part of the Picture in the Taxi Strikes,” Oriental Morning Post, November 13, 2008
“I’m Afraid the ‘Wenzhou’ Model Won’t Work Either,” Oriental Morning Post, November 13, 2008
“It’s Time for Unified Reform of the Taxi Management System,” The Beijing News, November 13, 2008
“Can Sanya’s Taxi Brothers Actually Form and Organization?” China Youth Daily, November 13, 2008
“Is it Enough that the Mayor of Sanya Has Apologized?” RedNet (Hunan), November 13, 2008
“Leading Cause of Transport Strikes is Industry Monopoly,” Qianlong.com, November 13, 2008 (quotes CMP fellow Zhang Ming on taxi monopolies)
“Taxi Management Must Seek Elimination of Hidden Costs,” Shanghai Morning Post, November 13, 2008 (alludes to problem of taxi cartels with government connections)
[Posted by David Bandurski, November 12, 2008, 3:17pm HK]

By David Bandurski — A quick review of media related news over the last several months might be enough to convince anyone that China’s press environment is a lawless Wild East where journalists hold up the bank and the sheriff rides roughshod over everyone. We’ve had poisonous PR propaganda, the suspension of a muckraking newspaper and cash payoffs of scores of journalists. [Frontpage image by Joe Gratz available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.]
But is the appropriate answer to all of this chaos more lawmaking on the media front?
The debate over a press law in China goes back at least to the 1980s, when liberal proponents, notably CMP fellow Sun Xupei, pushed unsuccessfully against party hard-liners like Hu Qiaomu (胡乔木) for a law to safeguard freedom of speech.
Sun Xupei continues to maintain that a press law must play a crucial role in advancing press freedom in China. Others worry that under the current climate any press law would necessarily become a “terrible law,” or efa (恶法), that would serve only to restrict press freedom and give added legitimacy to state press controls.
CMP’s recently released book of essays on media issues in China includes an article by legal scholar Wei Yongzheng (魏永征), who argues that the core problems affecting media in China are not legal in nature, but rather boil down to the nature of CCP rule (共产党的党性原则).
This is a complicated question, and if you don’t know where to stake your position, you might hedge your bets by affirming that both sides have their reasons. They certainly do.
But what if — and there is a third position emerging here — we recognize the distinct possibility that a Chinese press law could in various ways become a “terrible law,” or at least a very imperfect law, and yet we affirm that by applying it to press activities we can bring the practice of media control out of the shadows of the propaganda department and into the dim light of Chinese law?
Is it possible, in other words, that a terrible press law in China is preferable to vast and secretive propaganda system? Perhaps China’s media can absorb the hits from a press law and work actively and openly for fairness while effectively neutralizing (over time) its nastiest enemy, the Central Propaganda Department, whose role and purpose might be diminished.
Is a bad law better than no law at all?
Looking at the mini storm of debate over a Chinese press law that has brewed in the editorial pages over the last few days, one has to wonder whether some journalists and scholars aren’t beginning to think very strategically about this, scrapping pie-in-the-sky idealism on speech freedoms for a dirty but possibly important compromise.
The whole thing began with a November 3 editorial in the “Theory” section of the official People’s Daily.
The editorial, attributed to one “Hua Qing” (华清) argued for the “scientific” and “legal” management of the media sector in China in order, as the headline says, to “raise the capacity for public opinion guidance.”

[ABOVE: Article on improving “public opinion guidance” appears on page seven of People’s Daily, November 3, 2008.]

One of the key passages in the People’s Daily editorial said:

Our country is now at a crucial stage of development, with new problems and circumstances emerging constantly, and this state of affairs places new and higher expectations on the building of rule of law in the press sector. [We] must accelerate legislation in the press sector, continuing to optimize laws and regulations relating to press work, in order to provide a legal guarantee for effective press work and for the improvement of public opinion guidance capacity.

Here was a call in the country’s top party newspaper for China to move toward the creation of a press law.
But the People’s Daily piece was shot through with the language of media control, a clear suggestion this was not a call for the kind of press law Sun Xupei and others had championed in the 1980s.
The whole purpose and context of the call in People’s Daily was the improvement of public opinion guidance, a clear reference to what remains the guiding principle of media control in China. But the editorial also reiterated Hu’s encouraging, if so far empty, language at the 17th Party Congress about the need to “ensure the people’s right to know, participate, express and monitor.”
Re-iterating the call of the earlier People’s Daily editorial, the commercial Wuhan Evening Post (武汉晨报) reported yesterday in an article called, “Voices Urge Acceleration of a Press Law,” that:

In the discussion forum [of Hubei journalists, presided over by the deputy head of the provincial propaganda department Li Yizhang (李以章)] a number of viewpoints stood out. For example, that in ’30 years of media under reform and opening, the first 10 years were marked by media reform and no media industry, and the second 20 years were marked by a media industry and no media reform,’ or that ‘the social role of some journalists has shifted from propagandist to whore’, etc. In several panel discussions, a number of delegates urged the creation of a press law to protect the rights and interests of journalists (记者权益) and at the same time improve positive propaganda (正面宣传) and launch a war on vulgar and sensationalistic news (低俗新闻).

Here again was the schizophrenic rhetoric of control and rights. The above-mentioned “delegates” seem to have no problem talking in a single breath about two seemingly distinct and conflicting priorities, protecting the “rights and interests” of journalists on the one hand, and improving “positive propaganda” on the other.
Back on November 7, well-known essayist and CMP fellow Yan Lieshan (鄢烈山) responded to the People’s Daily editorial with a piece called, “Legal Management [of the Media] Need Not Wait for a Press Law.”
Yan opposed the idea of a press law, and he echoed statements made by Liu Binjie (柳斌杰), the head of the General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP).

I concur with the basic point of the People’s Daily editorial, that “only by believing in the people, relying on the people, and releasing information in a timely, accurate and comprehensive manner can we set the people’s minds at ease . . . and continually raise the credibility of the government and the news media,” and that “for strengthening management of the media [we] must carry out scientific management, management by rule of law and effective management.” But I think the issue of whether or not this can or cannot be accomplished has precious little to do with the issue of whether or not we have a specific law dealing with the media sector.
Concerning the issue of a press law, I agree with what Liu Binjie, the head of the General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP) said on July 3 this year when he was a guest at People’s Daily Online’s Strong Nation Forum (强国论坛). When asked why China had no press law, he responded by saying that many countries in the world do not have press laws. The United States does not have a press law [he pointed out], and because they believe that a press law can only serve to interfere in certain aspects of free speech, they have not permitted such laws. He said there were many difficulties in creating a press law, and that it was difficult to know how to approach such a law. There are presently three conditions fueling calls for the creation of a press law. Some people are calling for a press law that would limit the freedoms of news workers. They don’t want you to let things get out, to interview or monitor. They hope there can be some kind of law to control news workers. Clearly, this is irrelevant. Others call for the creation of a press law to protect citizens’ freedom of speech, but this [freedom] is already guaranteed in the constitution, and there is no need to make further laws on this. There are others who want a press law to protect the interest of those concerned, particularly those who are impacted or influenced by news events, and this emphasizes [tighter] control of news organizations, which does not work to the advantage of the strengthening of supervision by public opinion (舆论监督) [or “watchdog journalism”] . . .

Yan goes on to argue that the essential problem facing media in China — the problem that underpins poor protection of journalists, press censorship, bad ethics, you name it — is abuse of official power.

In sum, I believe that if power itself ceases to be above the law, then the laws as they presently stand are sufficient to protect news and watchdog journalism (舆论监督) . . . At present, watchdog journalism bears far too much hope on its shoulders, so that even half-illiterate peasants know that the most effective way [of seeking justice] is to get the media to tell your story, and they see the journalist as an Old Man Justice (青天) who can speak on their behalf. This is too unnatural, really too unnatural.

Insofar as he roots the media’s problems in official power, Yan Lieshan’s arguments resemble those of Wei Yongzheng.
The countering arguments followed quickly on the heels of Yan’s editorial.
The next day’s issue of Southern Metropolis Daily carried two editorials in support of a press law. The first, from Fan Dazhong (范大中), said it was fallacious to look at the example of the United States:

The United States prevents the creation of laws on the press because they have pushed the boundaries of speech freedom as far as they can possibly be pushed, so that no speech whatsoever can incur guilt. Even if we expand our idealism we cannot possibly count on the realization of freedom such as that, so we must reach a pragmatic compromise, seeking a freedom within limitations. The [language in our] constitution cannot protect those who are pursued by the law because of things they said online, those who are accused of slandering others in SMS messages, or those reporters who are “sought in the capital” [by police] because of reports they wrote . . . This being the case, can we really say that the laws as they now stand are sufficient, that we don’t need a press law?

A second editorial came from Zhan Jiang (展江), a former CMP fellow and director of the journalism school at China Youth University for Political Sciences (中国青年政治学院).
Zhan, a liberal scholar with a strong knowledge of international press traditions, was positive about the People’s Daily editorial, its reference to public opinion guidance notwithstanding. He said that this was the “first time in nearly 20 years” that there had been a discussion (in official circles) about rule of law in the media.
He concluded that a “social consensus” seemed to be emerging in China about a press law.
In fact, Zhan seems to twist the party notion of “strengthening guidance,” which is ultimately the business of the propaganda department, into his own concept of better professionalism in the news media to address issues like those apparent in the recent “gag fee” case.
This raises again the question of whether current proponents of a press law, like Zhan Jiang, are hoping for a middle path between the more idealistic law sought by Sun Xupei and others in the political reform climate of the 1980s and more skeptical (realistic?) voices like that of Yan Lieshan who return the question of progress on media freedoms to the immediately insoluble issue of party power.
A nearly complete translation of Zhan Jiang’s editorial follows:

“A consensus is emerging on a Chinese press law”
China has made major accomplishments in the area of law since economic reforms began 30 years ago, but rule of law in the press sector, so crucial to the development of democratic politics, remains a gaping blank spot. Today, as governance according to rule of law has already become national policy, and as the speed to lawmaking has intensified, one sector has remained entirely outside the law, and that is the news and broadcasting sector, which has no specific law on which to rely. This has to a definite degree encumbered social progress and the image of China internationally. I have written many times in recent years to promote national lawmakers to give priority to this issue, and to put the creation of a press law on the five-year agenda (2008-2013) of the National People’s Congress. While the voices [in support of this move] are not exactly vibrant, the idea has lately seen some positive response.
On November 3, [the official] People’s Daily published an article called “Raising Our Capacity for Public Opinion Guidance,” which for the first time in nearly 20 years said that there is a need to “accelerate the building of rule of law in press work, working to realize management [of the press] in accordance with rule of law.” “Our country is now at a crucial stage of development, with new problems and circumstances emerging constantly, and this state of affairs places new and higher expectations on the building of rule of law in the press sector,” the article said. “[We] must accelerate legislation in the press sector, continuing to optimize laws and regulations relating to press work, in order to provide a legal guarantee for effective press work and for the improvement of public opinion guidance capacity.” The article drew a strong response from media both in China and abroad, all of whom believed this was a clear indication that China would put a press law on the agenda. I believe a consensus about a press law is emerging in society . . .
There is a great deal of wrangling in both media or political circles about whether or not a law should be made particularly for the press. Back in the 1980s, a Press Law was placed on the legislative agenda, but it was later scrapped as it faced opposition . . .
In academia, meanwhile, a press law is not regarded as a goal that can realistically be achieved in the near term. And within the journalism profession itself, few have paid attention to the question of a press law at all in recent years. Less than a year ago, I publicly debated the question of a press law with a colleague of mine who is a law professor. When he remarked, “Ah, so here is another Don Quixote!”, there were titters in the audience. This widely recognized legal mind was not without reasons for his views — if a press law was to be promulgated without the proper social consensus, it is very conceivable that it would do harm to the protection of the rights of the media and in fact place greater limitations on freedom of speech.
But when you research the international experience [in this area] you find that the press and the mass media are sometimes now referred to as “social radar” (社会雷达), with the recognition that they are an effective and lost-cost means of scanning the terrain, checking various forms of abuse of power and aiding progress toward good social governance.
In any modern nation under rule of law — whether it is civil law (continental law) or [Anglo-American] common law — rule of law in the press is a matter of consequence. In England and other nations under common law, freedom of speech is guaranteed and protected according to mores and traditions, and while actual practice matters like war or anti-terrorism might pose challenges [to speech] it is a [social] resource that has shown [its value] over the long term.
Nations under the continental law system of Europe generally set down press or media laws (or broadcasting laws). The oldest legislation in history is the Free Press Statute passed by Sweden in 1766. Aside from constitutional guarantees of speech and of the press, France, Sweden, Germany and Russia all have various freedom of speech laws (新闻自由法), press laws (新闻法) or mass media laws (大众传媒法). France’s “Freedom of Speech Law” (新闻自由法) has been translated into Chinese, coming in at more than 10,000 words, and the rights and responsibilities of news media, principally newspapers and periodicals, are spelled out in great detail. In Sweden, the Free Press Statute is a part of constitutional law, and from this we can see the high position given to press law in the continental legal tradition. While Germany does not have a federal law on the press, each of its states has introduced its own press law. At the core of press law in Russia is its mass media law (大众传媒法) of 1991.
Let us look now at China’s progress in rule of law in recent years. The Law of the People’s Republic of China on Emergency Responses (突发事件应对法) that took effect in November 2007 stipulates that the government and government offices at various levels release information about emergency situations promptly, accurately, objectively and in a unified manner (及时、准确、客观、统一地发布有关突发事件的新闻信息), and that responsibility will be sought for cases of slow reporting, cover-ups, or the issuing of false reports. The Government Information Disclosure Ordinance (政府信息公开条例) of May 1, 2008, enshrined the new presumption of information openness as a rule and non-disclosure as the exception, and it defined the boundaries between government news release and news reports by the media.
While strictly speaking the above documents belong to the category of administrative regulations, we can see that in practical terms they are changing the secrecy of administrative decision making and the mystery of public affairs. This does more than just improve the image of the central government. Whether for major stories like the Sichuan earthquake or for small stories like a local traffic accident, if public information is opened up in this way, far from creating discord, this will lead popular opinion [toward more normal views and expressions] and do away with the environment in which rumor and speculation thrive. The international community will also look on this favorably. The opposite approach will have exactly the opposite effect.
But administrative measures do not amount to a press law . . .
Looking a the present state of affairs in China, it is most regrettable that apart from the ineffectual Article 35 of the constitution, there is no law directly protecting the media. Where media control is concerned, local officials can suppress speech and avoid press scrutiny (舆论监督) in the name of “positive propaganda” and turn the press into an instrument of self praise. Look, for example, at the Shanxi slave case of 2007, which would never have seen the light of day had it not been for media outside the province.
What’s more, China’s vast media industry is a gumbo of good and bad, and in recent years many media have sought to use their status as a social utility (社会公器) [or a function of government power] to rent-seek (寻租) [or extort cash or advertising contracts from companies, individuals or government officials]. The “cardboard bun hoax” of 2007 and the recent “gag fee” incident are two cases in point, clearly pointing to the fact that media also need to be checked by the law lest they go the same road of corruption we see with unchecked power. The respect of such citizens’ rights as reputation, privacy, copyright (著作权) and representation (肖像权) would also fall under the purview of a future press law. As for ethical bare minimums, a press law would be able to protect freedom of speech and at the same time limit the abuse of the right to interview (采访权), the right to report (报道权) and the right to comment (评论权).
Just as the People’s Daily article said: “Our country is now at a crucial stage of development, with new problems and circumstances emerging constantly, and this state of affairs places new and higher expectations on the building of rule of law in the press sector. [We] must accelerate legislation in the press sector, continuing to optimize laws and regulations relating to press work, in order to provide a legal guarantee for effective press work and for the improvement of public opinion guidance capacity.”
If from this point on [China] works to draft and implement a Press Law, using this as a basis on which to bring about the promises contained in relevant portions of both the constitution [Chapter II, Article 35: Citizens of the People’s Republic of China enjoy freedom of speech, of the press, of assembly, of association, of procession and of demonstration.] and the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (UNCCPR) [Article 19: Everyone shall have the right to hold opinions without interference. Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, or through any other media of his choice. The exercise of the rights provided for in paragraph 2 of this article carries with it special duties and responsibilities. It may therefore be subject to certain restrictions, but these shall only be such as are provided by law and are necessary: For respect of the rights or reputations of others; For the protection of national security or of public order (ordre public), or of public health or morals.] then this will benefit the promotion of progress in press work and democratic politics, it will truly preserve the right of the people to know, participate, express and supervise that was promoted at the 17th Party Congress [last year], and it will break the bonds that have for so long held captive China’s international image and soft power.

[Posted by David Bandurski, November 11, 2008, 8:35am HK]

By Emma Lupano and David Bandurski — Dai Xiaojun (戴骁军), the journalist and blogger credited with the scoop on the Linfen “gag fee” case, in which scores of journalists accepted cash to keep the story of a deadly mine accident under wraps, has told Chinese media he believes the full extent of media corruption at Linfen is not reflected in official findings. Dai also revealed that he and his family are now receiving constant threats from anonymous callers. [Frontpage image: Snapshot of register of allegedly bribed journalists taken by Dai Xiaojun.]
According to preliminary findings released last week by the General Administration for Press and Publications (GAPP), 28 journalists from 23 media accepted payoffs at Linfen on September 24 and 25. Of these, only two journalists possessed press cards issued by GAPP, the narrow official standard the government often upholds to determine “real” as opposed to “fake” reporters.
But according to Chinese news coverage, Dai alleges that the cover up in Shanxi is still going on, and he estimates that close to one-hundred journalists were on the scene collecting “hush money,” or “gag fees” (封口费).
The China Youth Daily was the first mainstream newspaper last week to report the story of Dai and how he broke the “gag fee” case on his weblog. Dai’s story has subsequently been followed by many Chinese media.
According to our database search nearly one hundred articles have mentioned his name since the case broke.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of QQ news coverage today of Dai Xiaojun’s interview with Phoenix TV.]

The following is a translation of portions of an article from today’s news section at QQ.com reporting statements Dai Xiaojun has made to various media:

“Exposer of the gag fee case following [the Linfen] mine accident says the mine is still covering up the truth”
After interviews in Beijing with CCTV and Phoenix TV, Dai Xiaojun, the reporter who instantly became famous for exposing the story of journalists receiving “hush money” after a mine disaster in Shanxi, could not stay longer and had to rush back to his home in Taiyuan. Back at home, the threating phone calls are becoming more and more frequent and his wife and son need him more than ever. In an interview with our newspaper yesterday, Dai Xiaojun said he harbors no regrets about exposing the ugly incident and even challenged the latest results of the investigation. “The owner of the mine is still telling lies. He is still hiding the number of the reporters involved and the amount of money they were paid,” Dai said. He said he entered the media industry 22 years ago. Three years ago he became a photographer at the Shanxi bureau of West Times.
In the afternoon of September 25, Dai received a phone call from a friend who works in the media, saying that “there was an incident at a mine in Hongdong county, and reporters are lining up to extort money.” After this phone call, Dai and a fellow blogger called “Live from Shanxi” drove a car from Taiyuan to Hongdong county. They arrived at the office of the Huobaoganhe Coal mine (山西霍宝干河煤矿) in the evening and Dai saw with his own eyes a practice he had long heard about, the distributing of “gag fees.”

The news article later goes on to describe Dai’s lingering doubts about the investigation into the Linfen case.

After news that the mine was distributing hush money to reporters was exposed to the outside, the General Administration for Press and Publication (GAPP) and Shanxi press authorities sent inspectors early on October 25 and 27 to carry out an investigation of the situation. The initial results of these investigations suggest that 28 journalists from 23 media were listed on rosters kept [at a registration desk] at the entrance on September 24 and 25. Of these, two journalists possessed press cards issued by GAPP [the findings suggest]. Talking about these findings, Dai Xiaojun said that “actually there are still very big discrepancies, showing clearly that the owner of the mine continues to lie.”
Dai said that according to his estimates, there were up to 100 people in the mine offices and corridors waiting to receive their gag fees that evening. “If you look at the photographs I took alone, there are already more than 40 people. The owner of the mine is still keeping to full number of journalists under wraps, as well as the amount of money he gave them.”
Dai said his friend has kept some photographs as evidence. Our paper called the blogger “Live from Shanxi” yesterday and he said he has a number of digital photographs as well as short videos. “If the investigative organisations require them, I’d be happy to bring them out,” he said.
[More on media appearances by Dai] . . . On November 1, Dai flew from Shanxi to Beijing to participate in a [TV] program, but as soon as he had landed and switched on his mobile, he received a call from his wife. “There was deep concern in her voice, and she told me that in the space of an hour she had received more than ten threatening phone calls.” Dai said he has received threatening calls directly as well. “They call from unlisted numbers, say something brief and then hang up,” he said, adding that the calls involve not just threats to him but to the safety of his family.
A spokeperson for West Times said in recent interviews with media that Dai Xiaojun is not a formal reporter (正式记者) for the newspaper. Responding to this statement, Dai said his “heart felt cold,” but he stressed that posts made to his own weblog are not in any way associated with West Times.

In a statement issued late last week, the ACJA condemned the practice of offering or accepting “gag fees.” But the official organization was careful to emphasize that such acts in the Linfen case were undertaken primarily by “fake reporters,” so defined not by unprofessional conduct itself but because they were not in possession of officially-issued press cards. [See CMP: “What does it mean to be a ‘real journalist’ in China?“]

[ABOVE: Screenshot of ACJA page on Xinhuanet with large headline on the association’s Linfen “gag fee” statement.]

The ACJA statement followed a press conference on October 29 in which Shanxi officials announced the findings of their preliminary investigation into the Linfen “gag fee” incident.
A translation of the ACJA statement as reported by Xinhua follows:

“All-China Journalists Association issues statement strongly condemning the offering and receiving of ‘gag fees,’ vows to strengthen the campaign against fake reporters”
(Xinhuanet, Beijing, October 31). A representative from the All-China Journalists Association (全国新闻工作者协会/记协for short) issued a statement today on the acceptance of “gag fees” by journalists following an accident at Shanxi’s Huobaoganhe Coal Mine (山西霍宝干河煤矿). They said [the ACJA] strongly condemns the practice of paying “gag fees, and that those ‘black horses’ (害群之马) of the news profession who accepted “gag fees” should be severely punished. [The association vowed that it would] crack down on those members of society (社会人员) who impersonate journalists in order to carry out extort or blackmail, [and said that] news workers’ normal right to interview (正当的采访权益) must be staunchly protected.
On September 20 this year a production accident occurred at the Huobaoganhe Coal Mine in which one worker died. After the accident occurred, 28 people from a total of 23 media arrived on the scene in the name of carrying out reporting (以记者名义) and accepted “gag fees” offered by the mine. After this incident was revealed by some media, it was given a high priority by the General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP) and by local press officials in Shanxi (山西省新闻出版局), which conducted two investigations. According to preliminary findings, two of the people among those who accepted “gag fees” possessed press cards issued by GAPP and the vast majority were members of society impersonating news outfits . . .
The ACJA representative said the investigation of this incident should be an opportunity to intensify the crackdown on “fake journalists.” Those people who use fake press cards (假记者证) or impersonate journalists to carry out illegal activities, [they said], should be quickly handed over to law-enforcement and their cases handled according to the law, in order that normal news activities can be protected and the purity of news teams (新闻队伍的纯洁) be ensured. At the same time, the All-China Journalists Association staunchly protects news workers’ normal right to interview, and supports normal supervision by public opinion (舆论监督) activities on the part of news workers.

In today’s Southern Metropolis Daily, scholar Ding Dong (丁东) adds to the “gag fee” debate, writing about the role of government power in suppressing crucial information, and concludes with a warning that adroitly turns the Chinese term for “watchdog journalism” on its head to warn against official monitoring and control of public opinion.
Ding also invokes two previous stories that were suppressed in Shanxi, those at Lifan and Xiangfen. [For more background on the Lifan landslide, see Roland Soong’s summary at ESWN.]
For readers new to the Lifan story, here’s a quick recap . . . In late August 2008, Sun Chunlong, a reporter for Oriental Outlook magazine published a report online called, “Lifan: the truth in limbo” (娄烦：被拖延的真相), but the report was deleted. Several days later Sun posted an open letter to Shanxi’s acting provincial governor, and three days after that Wen Jiabao officially commented on an internal reference document, or neican (内参), that mentioned that “an informant had published a letter on a blog saying that deaths in a mudslide on August 1 in Shanxi’s Lifan County had been covered up.” Only then there was a turn in the Lifan incident.
Ding writes the following about Sun Chunlong and the gagging of the Lifan story:

When you look at Sun Chunlong’s (孙春龙) experiences in trying to report the truth, it’s not difficult to see that the system of gagging information does not just work on one level. The gag system (封口机制) can at the very least be divided into two types. The first is corruption that comes with money; the second is suppression that arises from power. When company bosses use payouts to suppress information, this is just a clumsy method. If a journalist is short on neither conscience nor cash, this method can quite easily fail. But power is far more effective. In order to prevent bad news from getting out, local officials can mobilize the police, keeping reporters away from the scene of the accident, and they can even threaten the personal safety of journalists. Other government offices play along, working together to present a false front to the news media. Local officials inevitably have their own interests vested in these accidents, and they cover them up so that they will not have to take responsibility or be disciplined, so they can protect their official posts. If watchdog journalism [or “supervision by public opinion”] by domestic media is not restricted, it’s very possible that we will break through this gag system that works for local officials. The censoring of Sun Chunlong’s earliest report online happened ultimately because websites have no power to resist these rules [that work in favor of local officials]. And it’s because these rules exist that reports on the Lifan incident could not serve as warnings against the Xiangfen (襄汾) disaster [that happened subsequently and killed at least 276 people]. These rules, I think, should properly be called ‘power’s supervision of public opinion’ (权力对舆论的监督) [a distortion of “supervision by public opinion,” or “watchdog journalism”]. If the supervision [by power] of public opinion suppresses supervision by public opinion, the gag system will become a normal fixture of our life and society.

[Posted by Emma Lupano and David Bandurski, November 4, 2008, 4:17pm HK]

By Emma Lupano — As scandal continues to plague the food products industry in China, attention is turning again to endemic contamination in yet another Chinese industry — the media. On October 26, China Youth Daily published a report about journalists lining up at the scene of a mining accident to accept cash payments, or “gag fees” (封口费), in exchange for keeping quiet. Since then, newspapers across China have followed up on the story and launched a nationwide discussion about what responsibilities journalists have, and why poor ethics continues to hound the profession.
At the center of this discussion are the questions: what makes a “real reporter,” and what makes a “fake reporter”?
These questions have been asked many times before in China.
In January 2007, the case of journalist Lan Chenzhang (兰成长) became international news. The reporter was beaten to death by company thugs as he tried to uncover a story about illegal mining operations. But local authorities in Shanxi claimed that Lan had been a “fake reporter” merely trying to extort cash from mine bosses.
A lengthy investigative report by CMP fellow Wang Keqin eventually confirmed that Lan had been carrying out “news extortion” (新闻敲诈), but Wang presented a much more nuanced view of how problems in Chinese journalism stem not just from unscrupulous individuals, but rather from corrupt media culture and policy.
Wang particularly took issue with the suggestion by many party officials that separating the “real” journalists from the “fake” journalists was a matter of who had official press credentials and who did not. [Visit this link for CMP’s full discussion of press credentials and “fake reporters.”]
This problematic standard for “fake” and “real” journalists recalls the so-called “Gold Nugget Case” of July 2002, when China Youth Daily reporter and CMP fellow Liu Chang found that eleven reporters, including four from the official Xinhua News Agency, had accepted gag fees (including cash and gold nuggets) to cover up news about an explosion in which 37 workers died.
The discussion of “fake” and “real” reporters re-emerged in April 2007 following the story of Meng Huaihu, former Zhejiang bureau chief for China Commercial Times, who was accused of extorting money from companies using the threat of negative news reports.
The case sparking coverage and commentary this week surrounds a mining accident in Shanxi’s Linfen City (山西临汾市) in which one worker was killed.
According to reports by China Youth Daily, a newspaper published by China’s Communist Youth League, a pit accident occurred at the Linfen mine on September 21, resulting in the death of a 41 year-old worker. Rather than report the accident to higher authorities, the mine decided to cover it up, and distributed gag fees to journalists who came ostensibly to report the story.

[ABOVE: Page 7 China Youth Daily report on October 27, 2008, breaks the story of a mine accident cover-up in Linfen, Shanxi.]

Authorities now say they are investigating the case and that the owner of the mine has been fined 8,000 yuan.
The Zhongnanhai blog has translations of two original China Youth Daily reports here, but a CMP translation of a portion of the first article follows:

In the late evening of September 25, Dai Xiaojun (戴骁军), who writes under the web alias “Tian Ma Xing Kong” (天马行空) drove to the Huobao Ganhe Coal Mine with a colleague with the web alias “Live from Shanxi” (直播山西). The scene they saw on arrival caused Dai Xiaojun, a media professional with more than 20 years of experience, to gasp in amazement. Crowds of journalists were sitting down and chatting in more than ten rooms, and the hallway was jam-packed with more people who were queuing up.
Observing the scene, Dai Xiaojun noticed that two separate registration procedures had been set up downstairs, and in another office on the third floor people surrounded yet another registration desk. After that, bearing slips of paper, people were heading off to another office to close the deal. The visitors [Dai and his colleague] completed these procedures. Then, in still another office, Dai saw a practice he had long heard about, the distributing of “gag fees”. “Line up! There’s a bit for everyone,” [those in charge said].
This old soldier of journalism, [Dai], took out his camera at the top of the third-floor stairwell, adjusted his wide-angle lens and flash and readied his auto focus. At 6:48pm he slipped into a room where six or seven people were surrounding the registration desk and, click click, took two shots in quick succession. Then he went out into the hallway and took three more shots of people lining up. In less than a minute, he had bounded back down to the registration desk in the lobby, where he grabbed a copy of the “Shanxi Huobao Ganhe Mine Limited Co. Office Building Visitors Registration Form” (山西霍宝干河煤矿有限公司办公楼来客登记薄) with one hand while clicking the shutter release button of his camera with the other . . . so that he was able to take a shot of all four registration rosters as photographic evidence.
Dai did not recognize a single one of the many journalists registering as visitors . . . When he looked carefully at the 30 media on the photograph [he had taken of the roster], most of them were economic or science and technology publications, or magazines about law, safety or finance. A certain party daily from Shanxi had three reporters registered, and a certain consumer-related newspaper [like this one?] had two reporters registered . . .

Dai Xiaojun first posted his account of the gag fee incident on his personal weblog (hence the attention in the China Youth Daily lede to web aliases), but the blog was eventually taken down by authorities.
The China Youth Daily was the first mainstream paper to hit the story, even though it took one month. The following day, on October 28, more than 40 media, including The Beijing News (新京报), reported the facts quotiding the China Youth Daily. Among those, ten published editorials or commented about the incident in their “hot spots” (热点). On October 29 other 20 media wrote the story, with only two of them running editorials on the topic. On October 30, 36 more articles on the story were published, mostly as a follow-up from the days before.
The only party newspaper to publish a commentary on the story was the Guangzhou Daily (广州日报), on October 28.
Shanxi Daily (山西日报), the provincial party newspaper for Shanxi province, where the incident occurred, had not run a single story on the incident as of October 30. But commercial papers in the province, including Shanxi Evening News, did run news reports about the gag fee incident today. [See the bottom of this article for links to more editorials in Chinese.] 
The editorial by the Southern Metropolis Daily (南方都市报) discusses the common practice among mine owners of paying gag fees and its relevance to the question of “fake” and “real” reporters.
The Southern Metropolis Daily begins by calling the Linfen case “old news,” “because stories of this kind are far from new in Shanxi’s mining industry and even across the country,” then moves on to a discussion of “fake” and “real” reporters after briefly mentioning the Lan Chengzhang case.
The editorial’s conclusion takes a jab at the moralistic tone that often characterizes official campaigns against media corruption, in which problems are blamed on individual “fake reporters”:

Actually, I think that the most crucial question is not whether journalists are fake or real, but whether or not they can be successfully “gagged.” Why are there so many “fake journalists” fishing in troubled water to begin with? Any intelligent person in the world can become a transmitter of news, which is to say that anyone can be a journalist. It’s not necessary to carry a press card in your pocket, especially nowadays when information is developing so much. So a “real reporter” may get an ounce of respect from the owner of a mine, while a “fake reporter” becomes Lan Chengzhang. This is all about what kind of influence the disseminator can muster, and what kind of backing he has.
The influence a reporter has isn’t necessarily a function of his or her power of dissemination. This is particularly true in the Internet age, when a story posted on a website or bulletin-board site can inform the whole world in the blink of an eye. But in China today, real influence is decided by special groups of people. If something happens but the right people aren’t there to draw attention to it, those responsible can go right on as though nothing happened at all.
For example, Sun Chunlong (孙春龙), a journalist for Oriental Outlook, used his blog to break the story about the cover-up of the Lifan landslide. And some things that only a few people see, like internal reference documents (内参), can exercise more pressure on than mass media reports.
Besides, those media that hire “real reporters” have real strength to pit against mine owners, so that if the owner of a mine really wants to hush them up he has to pay a suitable price. If he resorts to violence, this is far riskier, so he’s better off just paying up for the peace and quiet he wants. As for those “fake reporters” taking a bit of light for themselves, well that’s just normal too. In those cases where police beat up or kill this or that citizen, it’s generally the “temporary workers” (临时工) [ie: the freelance reporters without official credentials] who are on top of the story first — and why shouldn’t they get to taste the soup for themselves? In all likelihood, these temporary workers are cooperating closely with “real reporters”, and they have the capability to report real stories too, so it is necessary to hush them up too.
The basic reason why fake and real reporters fly like a swarm of bees to cover mine disasters is that in today’s China the spread of information can be controlled, and that mean paying money is an effective way to hush people up. Otherwise, why would a mine boss waste so much money! Let’s think about this. If there was no strong external force capable of controlling the media and telling them what they can and cannot say, they could report the real facts with relative freedom . . . It’s precisely because mouths can be gagged so successfully, particularly those mouths that serve as information channels to key groups of people — and because even if someone exposes it online, it can disappear, as was the fate of Sun Chunlong’s blog report on the Lifan cover-up — that mine owners are willing to pay money, and both real and fake reporters can cash in.
I admire those people who aren’t subdued by force and who are untempted by money, but the majority of people go straight for profit, so in situations like this we see both fake and real reporters sticking together to get rich. Moral crusades against this kind of behavior just end up being anemic and ineffectual . . .
If the rights of the ordinary people are safeguarded, and if ordinary people can negotiate equally with local officials on a basis of legal equality, there will be no room for the buying of silence. The buying of silence is certainly hateful, but even more hateful is the institutional environment that allows silence to be propagated.

MORE CHINESE EDITORIALS:
City Evening News (城市晚报), “The ‘gag fee’ incident shames news media” (封口费事件让新闻媒体蒙羞), 28 October 2008.
Xi’an Evening News (西安晚报), “Re-thinking public information through the ‘gag fee’ problem”(由“封口费”反思信息公开), 28 October 2008.
Guangzhou Daily, “The two big miseries of queuing up to extort hush money” (排队领“封口费”的两大悲哀), 28 October 2008.
Morning News, (新闻晨报), “‘Gag fees’ require a more transparent control of the situation” (“封口费”呼唤监督环境更透明), 28 October 2008.
Shangdong Evening News (齐鲁晚报), “Mine owner pays ‘gag fee’ to cover up mine disaster” (为瞒矿难矿主狂发’封口费’), 28 October 2008.
Shangdong Evening News (齐鲁晚报), “Let’s publish the roster of the journalists who received gag fees during the mine disaster” (请公布矿难中收“封口费”的记者名单), 28 October 2008.
FURTHER READING:
“Shanxi publicizes names of six media guilty of accepting ‘gag fees,'” World Executive Digest, October 31, 2008
“Most bought-off journalists in Shanxi scandal were fakes, says local government,” Danwei.org, October 30, 2008
“Shanxi scandal: coal mine ‘shut up’ cash,” Zhongnanhai Blog, October 29, 2008
“Dark Journalism,” Gady Epstein, Forbes, July 21, 2008
“Out of Control: Chinese Journalists Struggle for Independence and Professionalism,” David Bandurski and Qian Gang, Global Journalist, Spring 2007
“China’s Yellow Journalism,” David Bandurski, Far Eastern Economic Review, June 2006
[Posted by Emma Lupano, October 30, 2008, 4:35pm]

By David Bandurski — CMP wrote Monday about China’s emerging egg products scandal and how it was shaping up in China’s media, including an initial reluctance to pursue questions about Dalian Hanwei Enterprise Group, the company, run by a powerful entrepreneur, whose products were recalled in Hong Kong over the weekend.
Coverage on Tuesday showed greater aggressiveness, with 52 separate news reports in mainland media mentioning Hanwei in coverage dealing variously with recalls in Hong Kong and related questions.
A story on page A08 of yesterday’s Southern Metropolis Daily — the whole page was devoted to “bad eggs” — reported that Hanwei’s “Ha Ha Da” brand of chicken eggs was being “pulled from shelves” (下架) in Guangzhou, and that a Hanwei press conference was scheduled for later on in the day.

[ABOVE: Page A08 of yesterday’s Southern Metropolis Daily]

Shanghai’s Wen Hui Bao quoted a city food inspection official as saying they were already watching events closely, but that melamine testing had not yet been designated as a regular procedural test to be conducted on local egg supplies. The paper also mentioned that the national Ministry of Agriculture was in the process of carrying out tests for “problem eggs” (问题鸡蛋).
Much of the coverage from local newspapers, however, consisted of boilerplate reassurances to local consumers that their eggs were safe because melamine “had not yet been found.”

From Yantai: “Melamine eggs not found in the city limits”
From Chongqing: “Melamine not found in Chongqing eggs”
From Shunde: “Shunde markets have not seen ‘problem eggs’ made in Dalian“

These reports were not suggesting, however, that tests had already been conducted on local eggs and had found no melamine, but simply that eggs from Dalian were not being sold locally.
Up to now, Dalian Hanwei and officials in Dalian seem to be trying to stem the fallout from the scandal by pushing the message that the egg problem is confined to Hong Kong. Even as Hanwei produced eggs were being pulled from shelves in Guangzhou yesterday, the Nanfang Daily quoted a Hanwei spokesperson in Beijing as saying Hanwei’s “Ha Ha Da” brand of eggs was selling normally in the capital.
News today clearly points to a much more widespread problem, with high levels of melamine found in eggs from Hubei and Zhejiang provinces.
Some of the hardest hitting coverage both yesterday and today came from the New Business Daily (每日经济新闻), a newspaper from Shanghai that launched four years ago. The newspaper had a relatively low profile until it underwent a re-launch in May this year.
Reports on the melamine scandal by New Business Daily point to what is beginning to look like a new trend in China’s media — the emergence of scrappier media in usually conservative Shanghai.
It was Shanghai’s Oriental Daily that stepped out of the shadows of strict control last month to report on contaminated milk produced by Sanlu Group. And the New Business Daily has complemented strong reporting on the egg scandal from Guangdong media over the last two days.
The reporter on the egg scandal for the New Business Daily is Zhang Juanjuan (张娟娟).
In her news story yesterday, “Asking China’s largest egg producer: who’s responsible for ‘poison’ eggs?”, Zhang summed up news from Hong Kong and interviewed Hong Kong experts about possible sources of contamination. Zhang also spoke to personnel at Hanwei in Dalian who explained, as though to reassure consumers, that the Park ‘n Shop brand distributed in Hong Kong was not sold on the mainland.
But how can anyone be sure that the eggs being marketed under these different brands are not in fact produced at the same facility or under the same conditions?
In a report today, Zhang attempts to determine exactly where problems at Hanwei occurred, and how its supply chains might have been affected.
For readers of Chinese, here is a flow chart provided by the New Business Daily today that raises the question of where contamination occurred and whether the same contaminated egg supplies might have ended up in both the Hong Kong and mainland markets under different brands.

The editor’s note for Zhang’s story goes straight for the attack, after a headline asking why Hanwei is still “silent”:

Eggs, like milk, are something ordinary people eat perhaps every day. It has been four days since melamine was found in [Park ‘n Shop] “Select” eggs, and yet the producer who supplies these eggs, Dalian Hanwei Enterprise Group, had not yet, up to the dealine of this article last night, made any sort of public statement whatsoever about the “poison egg” affair. And while relevant government departments are carrying out investigations, the results of these investigations are dragging on and not being made public.

Hanwei has, of course, spoken to Hong Kong media and issued an apology, as the South China Morning Post reported yesterday:

The head of the mainland company that supplied melamine-tainted eggs to Hong Kong apologised last night and said the firm shouldered all responsibility.
Han Wei, of the Hanwei Group in Dalian , who claimed they had never used melamine in their products, said he was shocked and distressed by the incident.
“We solemnly apologise to consumers and distributors. We solemnly state here that my company had never purchased melamine or added melamine to feeds or products.”

But the apology from Hanwei seems to be explicitly addressed to Hong Kong consumers, and does not answer questions about how Hanwei’s eggs are produced and supplied on the mainland. At least four mainland newspapers reported the Hanwei apology today, three stating explicitly that this was “to Hong Kong media.” Here is a newscast from local television in Shanghai reporting similarly on the apology.
The editor’s note for Zhang Juanjuan’s story continues:

Concern about “poison eggs” is understandable. If a company that has been called “China’s largest egg enterprise” has problems, people naturally want to ask: whose eggs can we eat?
And of course the most critical part in answering this question is get a clear idea of how these “poison eggs” were contaminated.
How large is the area of contamination? In this age of modern information, the bar of “crisis management” expectations placed on companies has been raised. It doesn’t solve anything to cover up the problem. Only through honesty and transparency, and the quickest possible reporting of the truth, can the damage be minimized.
When “Select” brand of China’s largest egg producing enterprise, Dalian Hanwei Enterprise Group, tested positive for melamine contamination in Hong Kong, this drew a lot of attention. This group’s “Ha Ha Da” brand of eggs has a large market share on the mainland — are these eggs contaminated with melamine too? Where is the root of the problem of “poison eggs”? Is this an isolated example, or a harbinger of crisis throughout the egg products industry?

Yesterday, our New Business Daily reporter went to Dalian to carry out her own investigation, and up to the time this report was filed, Hanwei was still silent.
Portions of Zhang Juanjuan’s investigation follow:

An official from the Feed Office of Dalian’s Rural Affairs Committee (大连市农委饲料办) told this reporter that the office had already submitted a report on the incident [of egg contamination] to the propaganda office of the Dalian Party Committee for unified release. So how did melamine get into chicken eggs? This official says he believes it is not very probable that melamine was added directly to eggs, but that the “possibility could not be ruled out” that chicken feed had been contaminated.
The reporter then went to the propaganda office of the Dalian Party Committee, where the person in charge confirmed that they had already received the report [from the rural affairs committee] but that they could not determine whether it would be released, or when and how, without first obtaining approval from central government offices, seeing as this was an uncommon food safety incident.
Apparently, after the Sanlu milk powder scandal broke, government authorities in Dalian began to intensify inspection of food products within the city and to test random samples, and milk and eggs products passed inspection. But what it difficult to explain is that the eggs tested in Hong Kong and found to contain melamine were manufactured by Hanwei on September 6, and were exported on September 10 after passing inspection by the General Administration of Quality Supervision, Inspection and Quarantine . . .
The propaganda office said that as the “Ha Ha Da” and [Park ‘n Shop] “Select” egg brands were separate brands produced under the banner of Hanwei, “Ha Ha Da” eggs continued to be sold as normal on the Dalian market, and there had been no products removals. But we are hearing that Guangzhou, Changchun, Shanghai and other areas are removing “Ha Ha Da” brand eggs from the shelves.

We highly recommend that readers of Chinese have a look at the full text of Zhang’s investigation here.
FURTHER READING:
“Eggs recalled, exports halted as China’s food crisis worsens,” AFP, October 30, 2008
UPDATED LINKS, OCTOBER 31, 2008:
“China, after dumplings row, sniffs at Japan sauces,” Reuters, October 31, 2008
“China turns to fixing system as toxic milk eases,” Reuters, October 31, 2008
“Report: China’s animal feed tainted with melamine,” Associated Press, October 31, 2008
“More lawsuits filed over tainted milk in China,” New York Times, October 30, 2008
[Posted by David Bandurski, October 29, 2008, 5:12pm HK]

By David Bandurski — As China’s poison milk scandal refused to slip into the past this weekend, Wen Jiabao promised a strong new approach to food safety issues. Addressing the Asia-Europe summit meeting on Saturday, Wen said China was pushing through a food safety law that would prohibit addition of harmful chemicals in foods and empower the government to “ban the sale of and recall unsafe food products if companies fail to do so voluntarily after products are found to be contaminated.” [Frontpage image by Darren Hester available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.]
The new law, it seems, cannot come quickly enough.
China’s latest melamine-tainted food incident — this time affecting chicken eggs and related products — has quietly emerged over the past ten days. Even as it is beleaguered with recalls from three neighboring economies, however, China’s largest egg products manufacturer, Dalian Hanwei Enterprise Group, has failed to announce its own recalls or to explain publicly what action it is taking.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Han Wei profile available at Dalian Hanwei’s official website.]

As Wen Jiabao’s tough talk at the Saturday summit was relayed by media inside and outside China authorities in Hong Kong announced that chicken eggs imported from China were contaminated with melamine, the chemical at the center of the recent dairy scandal. Hong Kong, which hypothesized that melamine contamination might have stemmed from chicken feed, said it would expand testing to include meat products.
But so far, China’s government has responded to problems in the egg products industry with resounding silence, even while these problems point potentially to more widespread melamine contamination.
This was not the first hint of trouble. Japan’s Yomiuri Shinbun reported back on October 17 that importer Mitsui & Co. had found melamine in egg powder imported from China. And South Korea destroyed 23 tons of Chinese egg products on October 22 after detecting excessive levels of the chemical. In both cases, tainted egg products were slated for use, or were used, in a variety of downstream food products, including baked goods.
But neither the Japanese nor the South Korean recalls were reported in China, and so far coverage of Hong Kong’s announcement in China’s media is sparse, pointing to possible propaganda directions on reporting (we are in the process of checking with sources).
The prize for timely and comprehensive reporting goes to the online edition of Caijing magazine, which reported the full story yesterday and mentioned other product recalls in Japan and Taiwan.
The first and only print media to report yesterday on Hong Kong’s testing of melamine-tainted eggs were Guangzhou’s Southern Metropolis Daily and Yangcheng Evening News, both commercial newspapers. Unlike the Caijing online report, neither story named Dalian Hanwei, the Chinese conglomerate whose products are at the center of recalls in Japan, South Korea and Hong Kong.
This important omission was all too reminiscent of the early stages of the milk powder scandal, in which Sanlu Group, the company most directly implicated, was spared mention.
Southern Metropolis Daily did report yesterday, however, that the eggs were produced in Dalian.

[PG11 of the October 26 edition of the Shenzhen city section of Southern Metropolis Daily, article on eggs at top.]

According to our database search, thirty local commercial newspapers reported today on the discovery in Hong Kong of melamine-tainted eggs from the mainland. Nearly all of the reports were sourced from either Guangzhou’s Yangcheng Evening News, Southern Metropolis Daily or Guangzhou Daily, but only sixteen mentioned Dalian Hanwei by name.
Only two brief news reports based on Hong Kong sources appear in provincial or national party media today, but neither make mention of Dalian Hanwei. These are from Nanfang Daily, the official party mouthpiece of top leaders in Guangdong, and from the online site of the official Xinhua News Agency.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Hong Kong egg recall coverage at the Xinhua News Agency website.]

It is worth nothing, however, that Nanfang Daily gave the story reasonably prominent positioning on the front page:

Guangzhou Daily, one of China’s more commercially oriented party dailies, reported more extensively on Hong Kong’s recall today, mentioning Dalian Hanwei by name. Other commercial papers, including Shanghai’s Oriental Daily, ran the Guangzhou Daily version.
It is interesting to note that while Shenzhen-based QQ.com promoted the story of the Hong Kong announcement to the top of its news page today and gave it the most prominent headline, like this . . .

. . . Beijing-based Sina.com and Sohu.com gave the story slightly less emphasis.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Sina.com.cn news page at 4:35pm, October 27, 2008]

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Sohu.com news page at 4:45pm, October 27, 2008]

Reports in China’s media today could mean the story is beginning to stick, and that a response from the government and/or Dalian Hanwei is forthcoming. Certainly, the news in commercial media and on Web portals today should be enough to get Chinese consumers thinking: Hey, what’s being done about this?
Comments on the news at QQ.com are worth a browse for readers of Chinese.
But the situation is also eerily reminiscent so far of last month’s milk powder scandal, in which the powerful Sanlu Group was initially shielded from scrutiny. More critically, again, there is no indication from the government about what is being done to address consumer safety on this issue.
It is also worth noting a number of further reasons why this latest turn in China’s ongoing food scandal is particularly of interest.
1. The announcements from Japan, South Korea and Hong Kong point to deeper contamination of food products in China, impacting entire production chains.
2. As this article from the recent issue of Study Times affirms, Hu Jintao pledged back on April 2008 that China would “raise the effectiveness of news, reporting at the first available moment” and “increase the transparency of news reporting, not covering up public incidents” (公共事件). What exactly was the first available moment here? News of contaminated eggs goes back at least to October 17, but there has not yet been an official statement and a handul of commercial media (with rare exceptions) are taking the lead only today in regurgitating Hong Kong news.
3. Han Wei, the founder of Dalian Hanwei, is an influential political player (a CPPCC delegate and vice-chairman of the Dalian Federation of Industry and Commerce) and is widely regarded as an inspirational entrepreneur and a role model in the push for rural development. In May this year, Han Wei addressed a United Nations panel on sustainable development. Han is arguably a much better connected individual than the top dogs at Sanlu Group were pre-scandal.
Han Wei has been called China’s “king of hens.” Here he is back in June 2005 talking with China International Radio about his “Ge Ge Da” brand of chicken eggs and what makes them the “finest quality possible”:

We really do a lot to ensure the eggs’ quality. The most important thing is to monitor the quality during the entire process from the ground to the dinner table. First the feed we buy must be healthy, without any harmful additives.

4. Some of the problem products in question were apparently manufactured by Dalian Hanwei Food Co. Ltd, a joint venture between Dalian Hanwei and Denmark’s Sanovo, although this needs to be confirmed. Reports from RRT News and Reuters suggest the joint venture is the source of problem products. So far, however, Sanovo has not responded to recalls in Asia. [More on the joint venture from the Dalian government website].
5. Eggs were actively touted and actively consumed by many Chinese as a safe alternative source of nutrition for adults and children during the recent milk scandal. Check out articles making dietary recommendations like this one, this one (graf six), and this one from Peoples Daily Online, recommending an egg a day.
FURTHER SOURCES:
“Premier says China to ensure safe food,” Associated Press, October 26, 2008
“Hong Kong tests more China food after egg scare,” Associated Press, October 26, 2008
“Premier says China to ensure safe food,” AP via MSNBC, October 26, 2008
Caijing online reporting on melamine contaminated eggs, October 26, 2008
“Good Mountains, Good Water, Good Eggs,” Hexun (Chinese), August 2008
[Posted by David Bandurski, October 27, 2008, 2:53pm]

By David Bandurski — It’s been more than two weeks since Shanxi Daily, the official party mouthpiece of top leaders in the northern province, reported that the mayor of one of its largest cities had given out 960,000 personal namecards in an effort to address work safety issues. But the reports and editorials continue to fly in what has become yet another opportunity to discuss how China’s leaders can and should be responsive to the needs and views of the people.
The story began with a news report printed on the front page of Shanxi Daily on October 4, not on October 5 as the official Xinhua News Agency suggested yesterday.

[ABOVE: Front page of the October 4, 2008, edition of Shanxi Daily, story about Changzhi’s mayor circled at bottom.]

The Shanxi Daily story, which ran at many of China’s top news portals, reported that leaders in the city of Changzhi had “printed and distributed” 960,000 “special” namecards bearing the phone numbers of the mayor and party secretary.
The article quoted one astonished city resident as exclaiming: “Never did it occur to me that now we would be able to call the party secretary and the mayor directly to let them know what’s going on.”
The news met with varied responses from internet users, ranging from the skeptical . . .

“Oh, this is all just about face!”
“I’m not so sure. This needs to be verified.”

. . . to the abrasively curious . . .

“How much did the cards cost, and who’s paying for them?”

. . . to the downright nasty . . .

“Who will answer the phone? His cute little secretary, or his mistress?”

But some actually saw the move as more than an empty gesture, saying the city’s leaders were being open and proactive in the face of urgent work safety problems that have plagued the province. A number of public administration scholars in Beijing reportedly dubbed the action “Changzhi’s New Deal” (长治新政).
Xinhua reported that by October 21, Google searches of the phrase “Changzhi/960,000 namecards” (长治96万张名片) turned up more than 126,000 results. That search comes back with about 130,000 results today, whatever that signifies.
Suffice to say, the Changzhi namecard story has been the focus of some interesting discussion about how leaders can be more responsive to the public in resolving various social and political issues — and how the people should participate, not forgetting Hu Jintao’s words to the 17th National Congress about “protecting the people’s right to know, participate, express and supervise” (保障人民的知情权、参与权、表达权、监督权).
It is also worth nothing that internet users have been circulating a purported “notice” from party leaders in Changzhi saying the 960,000 figure reported by Shanxi Daily was incorrect, and that only 96 namecards were distributed. Xinhua claims to have debunked this story. They report confirming with someone at the party’s office in Changzhi that they had indeed distributed 960,000 cards, “10,000 to officers of the Public Security Bureau, 50,000 to coal miners, 100,000 to city residents and their families, and 800,000 to families in the countryside.”
According to Xinhua’s calculation, that means there is now one official namecard for every 3.4 people in the city.
But is this really a “New Deal” for the people of Changzhi?
In today’s Southern Metropolis Daily, blogger and columnist Wu Yue San Ren (五岳散人) offers his own perspective on the namecard story.

“If the mayor morphs into an octopus he’ll still be swamped”
The mayor of Shanxi’s Changzhi City (长治市) publicized his own telephone number, and says he printed 960,000 copies of his personal namecard to distribute to city residents, so that they can inform him of hidden production safety issues. As soon as word got out, this became a red-hot focus in the news. Many praised the action for placing the focus on the popular voice, and some went so far as to call it “Changzhi’s New Deal” (长治新政). But there are many reasons for taking issue with his actions, and my reasons are very simple: even if leaders morph into octopi they cannot possibly answer every phone call, so this gesture is worthless.
Here’s what I’m thinking. A place as big as Changzhi is most certainly going to see countless problems, and even if you went through the days without eating or sleeping you couldn’t possibly answer all of those calls. So in the end this phone number is entirely for show. You think, perhaps, that the mayor is manning the phones? Even if he grew eight hands he couldn’t answer them all. And if he has a secretary answering calls on his behalf, how is this any different from listening to the daily reports that reach his desk? These are all materials that have gone through a vetting process. The mayor . . . cannot by such means ensure his city is well-governed. He must be a good city manager, and his responsibility is to delegate specific tasks to others, not to go himself and sweep the streets clean.
As an outsider, of course, I can’t simply dismiss this as an act of image building (形象工程), nor can I say the gesture is entirely without meaning. It’s just that to call this some kind of “New Deal” is just too unrealistic. All of these “opinion boxes” and “mayor’s hotlines”, and these “mayor’s mailboxes” we’ve made such a fuss about on the Web — what is it they are missing? If changing fixed opinion boxes and fixed telephone lines into mobile numbers is a “New Deal,” then just look at how simple it is to turn over a new leaf politically.
This so-called “New Deal” in fact exposes two old problems. The first is that no matter what the problem, it has to be voiced at the very top before anything can be done to resolve it or give it attention. We live in a place where what the leader says, goes — in the language of political studies, all decisions must in the end come from the very highest levels. Meanwhile, everyone else in various government departments sends up mixed messages or completely muzzles matters in order to lessen the risk of political decision-making. There are many matters that stand no chance of resolution unless they happen to make it into the hands of those who head up the government. This means that weak leadership and daily negligence continue unabated. And the method of resolution that comes to us now is this “New Deal” that has never ever been new. The new deal is not new, and problems go on as ever . . .
So I won’t dismiss this as a mere act of image building or a “political show” (政治秀), but I’m inclined to think it’s an empty gesture . . . To simply dismiss this as a “political show” or to simply praise it as a “New Deal” is to overlook the most critical point — that when the fundamentals go unchanged, even actions with the best of intentions amount to the mere addressing of symptoms in lieu of a cure.
This whole affair is proof once again of the basic soundness of this principle. All of this publicizing of phone numbers, whether its at the provincial level or the city level, or even phone numbers higher up the ladder, this is about this or that politician doing his little bit to the extent that he can. But as to the results of these efforts, they are dissipated again and again in the fruitless efforts and skepticism of ordinary people . . .

[Posted by David Bandurski, October 23, 2008, 3:41pm]

By David Bandurski — The internet is growing rapidly in China, and it is set increasingly on a collision course with entrenched local party officials who fear the greater scrutiny it brings. There have been many documented examples in recent years, most notably the Chongqing SMS case in 2006 and the Shanxi open letter case last year. [Frontpage image by Marcio Eugenio available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.]
In yesterday’s edition of Southern Metropolis Daily, blogger Ten Years Chopping Timber analyzed two separate 2008 cases in which local officials handled cases of online “rumor” in different ways with markedly different results:

“When it comes to online gossip, why can’t officials swallow their pride?”
The internet has promoted economic development and and social progress, and it has also wrought trouble for many, in particular public figures (公众人物) such as party officials. Because information on the web travels so quickly, with a complex trajectory, and because it is difficult to trace information to its source, people find it tough to work out what’s real and what’s fake, and damaging rumors can emerge from nowhere. An ancient saying goes, “It must be true what all men say” (三人成虎), and on the internet we’re talking not just about three people spreading gossip, but one hundred or one thousand times that many.
We can’t turn back to the olden days of inscribed bamboo slips or hot-metal typesetting, so how should officials handle gossip, and in particular rumor, that they find disadvantageous? Recently, Wang Weicheng (王伟成), mayor of Changzhou, offered us a very good exemplar. Someone spread gossip on the web saying that Wang’s relatives had used the political power at their disposal to seek personal gain, and they offered some level of detail. Things being as they are, with the public generally doubtful about the moral character of officials, this news was definitely damaging. I don’t doubt that it is within Mayor Wang’s power to mobilize police and begin investigating the case, ferreting out those responsible and arresting them under charges of slander. But this is not how Mayor Wang handled the situation. Instead, he posted his own message as an ordinary web user, writing from Changzhou’s Dragon City Teahouse, and replied to the charges. This response met with widespread approval from web users, and one user writing under the alias “We can get by” said: “I’ll saying nothing for the time being on the merits of his argument, but the situation today being as it is, for this mayor to decide to face questions from web users openly on the web is something that should be supported.”
It is perceptive of Mayor Wang to handle things in this way, because if he were to abuse official power to deal with online gossip it would probably have the opposite result. So long as we’ve had societies, speech and writing, gossip about kings and bureaucrats has never stopped . . .
. . . But when some officials face gossip on the internet . . . they wield their public power as a deterrent. At the beginning of the year a post made the rounds on the internet from a female college student charging a ministerial-level official in Shaanxi of “corruption and lechery” in peremptory tones. My initial feeling on seeing the post was that it wasn’t reliable, because the style was flowery and exaggerated. But many web users readily believed what was said about the official. The local police intervened immediately, opening an official investigation and eventually determining that the post was orchestrated by a local businessman, Zhang Shengli (张胜利). Thereupon, a warrant was put out for the businessman’s arrest, and the highway toll service center he was under contract to run was forcibly taken over. If Zhang Shengli really did seek revenge on this ministerial-level official, slandering him with rumors, then naturally he should bear legal responsibility accordingly. What Mayor Wang said in his post holds true for this ministerial-level official: “The mayor is a person too, and his personal dignity must also be protected under the law.” And he can first refute the online gossip; next, if he believes his personal dignity is being insulted, he can make a report and ask relevant departments to get to the bottom of the case; finally, he can bring a libel suit. Is a high ministerial official unable to condescend to use the internet to combat rumors, or to stand in the role of plaintiff and argue for his own rights? Perhaps this ministerial-level official feels he is above appearing as an ordinary web user or a plaintiff? He is confident, no doubt, that by virtue of his power he has a tougher and more straightforward way of tidying up “rumor mongers.” Nevertheless, using these old methods and lashing back did not have a positive impact on the public relations crisis facing this ministerial-level officials. Quite to the contrary, it fed public feelings that the “rumors” were indeed credible, and the “rumor monger” conversely received widespread public sympathy.
Both this ministerial-level official and Mayor Wang can be considered “old revolutionaries facing new problems,” but the crisis management approaches of the two men are so different, and there is a world of difference too between the results.

UPDATE, 1:53pm:
In today’s edition of The Beijing News, freelance columnist Wu Yue San Ren (五岳散人) offers his own perspective on the internet post by Changzhou Mayor Wang Weicheng:

Having a dialogue with public opinion has always been a kind of top-down process, basically leaders placing opinion boxes outside their doors and saying they are willing to hear opinions. The people write letters and slip them in, but as to whether these ever make it into the government’s hands and whether problems are actually handled, this has to be ensured by specific operational mechanisms.
The emergence of the internet has changed this old method, and exchanges have now become more direct and interactive.
Now it is entirely possible for politicians to voice their own opinions at the first opportunity, and for ordinary people to face their computer screens and speak their minds. Everyone can put their views out there, and everyone can decide on the merits of the case. In the past we always dealt with matters secretly, but if we build habits and mechanisms for dialogue, the old “black box” way of doing things will fall away naturally.
But there is another reason I feel respect for this [Changzhou] mayor. As the reader knows, there have been numerous cases in recent years of web users questioning officials in text messages or in chat rooms, but these officials responded not by explanation and interaction but rather by arresting those involved and charging them with “rumor and slander.” These responses exacerbated matters and damaged the reputations of the local governments involved. Here we have the same sort of situation, and while this mayor has similarly raised accusations of “rumor and slander,” he has chosen to deal with the situation without resorting to strong-arm tactics, instead using his own right to free expression.
What is positive about the mayor responding with his own web post is that the internet is already increasingly becoming a channel for public expression, and if this channel comes to include interaction with officials it could truly become a platform promoting equal dialogue, discussion and participation in state affairs.

FURTHER READING:
“Their Own Worst Enemy,” by James Fallows, The Atlantic
[Posted by David Bandurski, October 21, 2008, 12:03am HK]