By David Bandurski — For two and half years veteran Chinese journalist and former CMP fellow Zhai Minglei (翟明磊) and others went quietly to work on Minjian (民间), China’s first magazine telling the stories of grassroots activists working for the betterment of Chinese society. They had no political or financial ambitions, but were driven only, says Zhai, by their belief in the principles of civil society. After cooperating with authorities since July in an effort to save Minjian amidst a government crackdown on “illegal publications”, including the China Development Brief, Zhai has decided to speak out in an open letter explaining the circumstances surrounding Minjian‘s “death.”
“Had it not been for Minjian’s closure, we would have worked forever in silence,” writes Zhai.
“Up to now no formal decision has been rendered concerning how to deal with Minjian, but we have already given up all fantasies [about its future], and as a public intellectual I must raise my own voice.”

[ABOVE: Cover image of March 2005 edition of Minjian.]

Zhai’s letter depicts an NGO sector under increasing pressure from Chinese authorities, facing what he calls, alluding to periodic law-enforcement crackdowns, an “intellectual strike hard campaign.”
Zhai Minglei spoke at the recent Chinese Blogger Con 2007 in Beijing as a panel member on grassroots media in China [Blogger Con in Chinese]. His letter, distributed to friends and colleagues by e-mail on November 12, shows the extraordinary pressures facing grassroots media in China, and the tangle of confusing laws and regulations that can be used unaccountably by authorities for political ends.
Minjian‘s demise exposes yet again China’s growing crisis of information. Even as China’s economy is growing rapidly and media commercialization is intensifying, even as there is a growing appetite for real information in a changing society, party officials continue to push back against public interest news coverage.
As Zhai says: “China’s hosting of the 2008 Olympic Games might demonstrate that Chinese people are physically stronger and sturdier, but the death of Minjian reminds us that the mental horizons of the Chinese people are limited to the child’s playground. While the market is glutted with mediocre, materialistic consumer fare, public affairs news materials are repeatedly pressured and bled out.”
Roughly half of Zhai Minglei’s 18-page letter follows:
—————

Minjian, she dies with a smile
Zhai Minglei (翟明磊)
Lately, a number of readers have phoned me to ask why they haven’t yet seen the Summer and Autumn editions of Minjian. For this reason, I feel I must offer readers an explanation.
Minjian has been cut down, and though we have covered the wounds on her chest, the bloodstains creep silently across the sheets. Minjian has worked mildly and delicately to build a civil society, but we cannot hold back from this earnest account:
On the morning of July 6, 2007, just as the Summer edition of Minjian had been delivered to Sun Yatsen University’s Center for Citizens and Development (中山大学公民与发展中心), and just a volunteers were preparing packs and parcels [for circulation], three people from the Cultural Inspection Brigade of Guangzhou’s press and publications office [the local GAPP office] including Wu Peng (吴鹏) stormed into the center. They presented a document with the official seal of the Guangzhou Publication Appraisals Committee (广州市出版物鉴定委员会). It said that the Spring edition of Minjian was an illegal publication because it did not have a publishing unit or publishing license. They then proceeded to confiscate 5,036 copies of Minjian’s Summer edition. At the same time, they ordered us to cease publication of Minjian.
This action must have been planned in advance and the documents prepared. It so happened that it was during these two days that the China Development Brief, which had been operating for 13 years, was shut down.
Several days later, Zhu Jiangang (朱健刚), an associate professor at the Center for Civil Society (公民社会中心), was ordered to cooperate with an investigation. The enforcement official told him that they did not know exactly what was going on, but that they had received orders from above. They were under a lot of pressure, the official said, and had been told to refer the case to police because the number of printed copies had been substantial.
Enduring much humiliation and hardship, Professor Zhu tried to reason with the authorities and salvage Minjian’s hopes. Thirty days later there was still no word on our case. They said it didn’t need to be referred to the police so long as we agreed not to publish Minjian.
They said that according to Article 55 of the [1999] State Council Statute on Publishing Management anyone “daring to set up a publication without going through approvals …. will be banned …. and will be liable to a fine of between 10,000 and 50,000 yuan for illegal business activities.” [NOTE_Bandurski: This text actually appears in article 45 of the Statute]. Minjian was shut down and ordered to pay a fine of 30,000 yuan. Minjian’s lawyer felt this was entirely unreasonable. First of all, Minjian had received approval from an academic institution and was therefore an academic publication within the law. Secondly, Minjian was a publication working for the public good, and had no business or income whatsoever, so there was no call for a fine [under the State Council statute]. Thirdly, Minjian’s content was of a healthy nature, without so much as a hint of content the government might regard as indecent or reactionary.
The authorities did not listen to our appeals, and made no adjustments.
After we were prevented from publishing, the electronic version of Minjian started appearing online. At this point (August 20) the Web Police appeared at our office, demanding that we stop our production of the online version of Minjian. We replied that that the ban on publishing applied to published materials but did not prevent online dissemination, and besides our content was entirely legal. The police simply waved this aside. We were reminded at this time of the old idiom: “Controlling the common people is more important than controlling the bandits”. [NOTE_Bandurski: Here Zhai is making a play on words, as the idiom contains the first character, “min”, of the publication, which means “common people.”]
Simply because he introduced the contents of the summer edition of Minjian [on his site], Peng Weifeng (彭微风), manager of the Mumian Huakai (木棉花开) web forum, was taken in for questioning by Web police, who said he was “under suspicion of publicizing an illegal publication.” It was for this reason that the Mumian forum was closed down.
After this several blogs excerpting Minjian content were closed . . . The Minjian website [hosted overseas] was blocked.
A screening at the Pudong Shimin Center (浦东市民中心) in Shanghai of our film “Country Teacher”, done according to a Minjian report, was notified a day in advance that it was to be cancelled. After this, two alternate venues, citing strange reasons, refused screening.
I’ve truly never heard of such methods being used to target a small publication.
As it stands, we’ve exhausted all possibilities for ensuring Minjian’s survival in whatever form. We’ve received great support from many friends. We’ve worked so hard for the survival of the magazine not out of resistance but because of our belief in the principle of civil society. A civil society abides by the law, but it cannot take orders. We abide by national laws, but only when we need not obey such “orders” as these will we truly have an independent civil society.
Up to now no formal decision has been rendered concerning how to deal with Minjian, but we have already given up all fantasies [about its future], and as a public intellectual I must raise my own voice.
We have kept entirely silent over these past two months for two reasons. First, because as law-abiding citizens we felt confident that we were clean, and we wanted to give the authorities confidence that we were cooperating before there was a clear result. Secondly, even as foreign news media turned their attention to our case we had no desire, as people doing real work [rather than causing trouble or seeking publicity], to exploit the opportunity. Now that the ripples have subsided, I feel empowered to write as I wish.
[Birth and Beginning]
[Scholar] Li Shenzhi (李慎之) once said that if he had another life he would spend it as a citizen teacher (公民教员). My colleagues at Sun Yatsen University’s Center for Civil Society wanted to achieve Old Li’s ideal in their own lifetimes. Minjian’s core phrase was: “Acting to transform existence” (行动改变生存). The stories we told were about people in China working together for the public good.
Launching Minjian was a simple idea. One teacher involved in the launch talked about how when they were in America on a fellowship they discovered that their old landlord was a member of scores of civic organizations — reading clubs, choral groups, etc. Teacher Liang said that whenever China could reach such a developed civil society that would be great. She paid special attention to the capacity of Chinese to organize themselves. My own involvement stemmed from interviews I had done with more than 300 evictees. I became weary with the way these people placed their hopes in the government and benevolent leaders. One phrase during the launch spoke to my deepest convictions: “All of these years we’ve looked to the heavens, and forgotten to look to one another.”
I could utter ten-thousand words, but the words “civic enlightenment [awakening]” probably best sums up [our impetus for launching Minjian].
And what do civic teachers use to teach? Our thought was to use the stories of the people themselves. Minjian’s style was direct and earnest. We told things how they were. It was a publication with a heartbeat and a body temperature. Reporters for Minjian endured many hardships over the last two years. They often returned from reporting stints covered with fleas and bites [Note_Bandurski: The reference to insect bites, or hongbao (红包), literally “red envelope”, is a play on words suggesting that Minjian reporters were dedicated to fighting the good fight, unlike many establishment journalists in China for whom it is routine to accept envelopes of cash in payment for positive publicity]. It was in this way that we came back with the most living stories of the people. Ordinary intellectuals, we are a bit bookish in our own way. The only think we knew was to foolishly pour our hearts into this little publication. One editor I respect very much grew farsighted laboring over the pages. One of our female reporters came back from the field with 28 flea bites. My own eyes have yet to recover from fatigue.
The first year we did the magazine from our homes. Eventually we had more than 200 volunteers working to get the magazine out to readers . . .
Minjian was China’s first public welfare publication telling the stories of grassroots activists. It was completely independent, telling stories from the vantage point of the common people. It covered such issues as environmental protection, rights defense, relief for the poor, and rural development.
[Reasons]
One reason Minjian did not have a publishing license is because under China’s current publishing environment, publishing licenses are held and controlled by publishing organs designated by the state. Individuals cannot obtain publishing licenses, and even academic bodies like the Center for Civil Society do not have the right hold publishing licenses. For this reason, publishing licenses that should be obtained freely have become a kind of resource, and licenses for monthly publications can be sold on the open market for over 200,000 yuan. As a resource for the public good promoting action on public welfare, Minjian had no aims to profit in the marketplace, nor did we want to bear this unjust cost. Even more important was the sponsoring institution and press censorship that would come with the publishing license. [Note_Bandurski: In China all licenses for publishing are held by sponsoring institutions, or zhuguan danwei (主管单位), that are responsible for ensuring party propaganda discipline at publications under their watch.] Minjian had no intention of tying its own hands and feet.
Therefore, Minjian decided to deliver the publication as an internal resource by post to the individuals and organizations that required it. As Minjian was directed toward publicizing the public welfare, any individual or group within the public welfare system interested in public welfare could become a Minjian reader. Minjian was offered free of charge. We undertook no profit-seeking activities, nor did we ever publicly distribute the magazine.
Minjian was therefore a not-for-profit public welfare publication for closed circulation. Moreover, Sun Yatsen University’s Center for Civil Society is a nationally approved secondary national research institute created in cooperation with the sociology department of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and tasked with researching civil society and the management of public welfare work, and promoting civic education. It was founded before the Civil Society Center at Peking University [which has not been under pressure]. The formation of Minjian was approved by the Foreign Affairs Office of Sun Yatsen University, and received twenty-odd official stamps. For us all of the sudden to be branded “an illegal publication” is truly perplexing.
We did not apply for an internal printing permission certificate (内部准印证) because this unaccountable permission is an affront to publishing freedoms, its application process is complicated, and most internal newsletters now pay no attention to this kind of internal printing permission certificate.
There are now many rigorous academic materials of this kind within the university system. And among NGOs these kinds of materials now exist everywhere. This includes the recently shut down China Development Brief, which existed for 13 years.
China does not at present have a Press Law or Publishing Law.
The only relevant document is the State Council’s Publishing Management Ordinance of February 1, 2002, which includes a 1991 General Administration of Press and Publications provision on handling of closures of illegal publications. There are no stipulations or limitations concerning closed circulation publications like Minjian, and all articles are in regard to publications circulated publicly and for profit.
Minjian was an internal academic resource, not for profit, not circulated publicly and only delivered by post to persons within the public welfare sector.
In the materials we’ve reviewed and the document authorities have presented to us, on a single phrase, in a notice from Guangdong’s press and publications office concerning illegal publications, about “printing and reproduction of books, periodicals, audiovisual materials, etc, for internal use without prior approval from administrative offices dealing with publishing.” But it is unclear where the legal basis is [in the action taken against us].
If indeed it is this clause [from the Guangdong notice’] then all of the internal organizational publications and materials of NGOs in China are illegal publications. Without approval from all the various levels [of the government] NGOs have no way of printing materials and publicizing their own concepts and public welfare work.
And so it is with all of those small booklets we circulate among friends and acquaintances in China as a form of interaction or to seek the appreciation of friends, or those various poetry collections we call people’s publications (民刊), all reading materials shared among colleagues. All they need is to be printed and they are illegal publications.
And what about those internal materials printed by enterprises, their marketing materials, introductions to their products appearing in booklet form? And what of collected lectures teachers print on their own? Are all of these illegal publications too?
[According to the above clause] internal use is not permitted, and so external use is even less acceptable. According to this logic any and all printed materials in China must be approved by administrative organs dealing with publishing. This is not only a violation of the constitutional guarantees of freedom of publishing and expression — it’s also plainly ridiculous.
[Here Zhai quotes from Tocqueville’s Democracy in America. Original quote not found].
Therefore I believe that there is no freedom whatsoever to speak of unless there is true freedom to publish.
We believe there should be a clear-cut Press Law and Publishing Law. Otherwise, local governments and lower-level government departments can use various regulations to suppress freedom of speech and freedom to publish as suits them. When they deal loosely, licenses can be bought and sold, when they deal harshly, even strict internal academic publications in the public welfare, such as Minjian, are targeted. Pushing this to the limit, any printed materials that have not received direct approval from authorities can be deemed illegal printed materials . . .
What Minjian has faced is a sort of “intellectual strike hard” [literally “spiritual” or “mental”] campaign without any legal basis whatever.
This strike hard campaign has already developed beyond pornographic and opposition publications to hit serious investigative internal materials like the China Development Brief and Minjian. What does it matter [in their view] that these have real academic institutions or NGOs behind them? They are now dealing with the cultural field as they might with [unauthorized] vegetable markets, treating professors and doctoral students as roughly as they [commercial police, deputized security officers, etc.] might treat peddlers, interfering with academic freedoms.
Without freedom of expression it’s not only citizen teachers like us [that are at risk], but all of those buds of thought differing from the [party’s] main line that might bring about social progress stand to be trampled and destroyed . . .
Here I would just like to extend my personal sympathies to the China Development Brief. What nonsense it is that social research without approval should become a crime! For 13 years the China Development Brief presented to the world objective and even-handed research on China’s healthy growth. In the end for it to be cut down in such a way is, even from the perspective of the censors, an “unintelligent” move – I’ll refrain from using the word “stupid”. What a pity to lose such an excellent force of unity.
Any liberal government will welcome NGO and volunteer organizations to assist the weaker segments of society and mitigate social contradictions. But lately more conservative elements in our government have been on guard against NGOs . . . Is there really any need to prevent NGOs and citizens from speaking?
Lest readers think exaggerating, let me share a story that happened to me personally. I’m an acting director of Green Roots [a Shanghai-based NGO]. Our organization is involved in the building of NGO capacity, support and training. Last year the Center for Civil Society held a workshop and posted a pre-announcement online. After the announcement appeared, the abovementioned Web authorities maintained that a reactionary organization called “Workshop” had recently been formed, supported by Americans. Only after a lot of explaining from a number of sides did the authorities admit they had been seriously misinformed by this grave notice of enemy threats. Not long after, the authorities (abovementioned) said my brother-in-law was orchestrating popular movements with financial support from America. I explained that I was an only child. The younger sister they were talking about was in fact a friend with the same surname whose mother was working as a maidservant in the States and sending money back to China for the family. But last year the office again stepped up and said that I had, in cahoots with lawyer Gao Zhisheng, organized rights defense figures across the nation to sign a letter of protest at a conference in Shanghai. They had all the specifics worked out, such as at which restaurant near the rear gate of Shanghai Jiaotong University we had rendezvoused. Once again, I explained that no such thing had happened, that I didn’t personally know Mr. Gao, and that the address they had was a place where we held performances of folk dramas. Is this really possible! This office clearly wishes to make an example of Green Roots, and they have no qualms about resorting to rumor, saying for example that Minjian was run by Green Roots [rather than a research institute within Sun Yatsen University], or that all the articles were instigated, checked and approved by Oxfam. Their lack of understanding of NGOs approaches sheer ignorance. So the shut down of Minjian became a key task, a consolation for their vain pursuit of Green Roots over these last few years. What more can be said about this paranoia? If this government body persists with such misinformation, how many more NGOs will fall unjustly under the axe! Having lost any semblance of a normal working environment, we have lately been forced into disbanding Green Roots.
As a citizen I must protest this abuse of taxpayers’ money to fund campaigns of misinformation. Who has any idea how many American-supported “reactionary groups” these people will dream up!
But the most critical thing is that we have no idea how to appeal to this mysterious government office, and perhaps the only thing to do is appeal to the newly-appointed head of the Ministry of State Security, particularly as you, sir, are an expert on American affairs. First, your policies on management of NGOs are wrong. All of the NGOs Minjian reported on, the one-hundred or so with which I’ve personally had contact, consist entirely of well-meaning and law-abiding citizens. They have no political designs, and certainly are not the hatchet men of anti-Chinese powers overseas. As for Oxfam, this is a fund with broad support from residents in Hong Kong, and all the people I know involved in Oxfam projects are working on poverty assistance in the countryside. Second, keep your subordinates in check so they do not carelessly pursue cases.
Government and society are separate domains. In the social domain, pure people’s organizations should be allowed to operate . . . Right now the government not only monopolizes the bulk of charitable funds but also treats NGOs with unbridled suspicion. The closing of the James Yen Reconstruction Institute is a clear example. Not only should the government refrain from taking on social duties, it should not interfere with the natural development of society, and China is at present in a stage of social reconstruction.
I’ve thought a great deal about why these misunderstandings have arisen. Aside from the low character of these government offices, there is the issue of Chinese psychology. In economics there is something called “conspiracy theory”. Why should these offices suppose NGOs are spearheading political movements? Because in their subconscious Chinese blindly worship power, and from ancient times to now, whether official themselves or the common people, all have placed their hopes for good governance in the government itself, gazing up to the highest levels of political power. For this reason, very few have ever worked to enlighten the public and rebuild society. This leads the government office to this train of thought: “What is all this for, this back-breaking research you guys carry out without a thought to fame or profit? It must be that you’re after political power.” Let me tell you, we’re after nothing more than the strength of character of the Chinese people. We’re laboring away in the mud. We do not blindly worship power . . . We are not doing political work, but awakening civic consciousness. [Without a properly functioning civil society] democratic politics will be malformed. We are willing to work our whole lives in obscurity as civic teachers. We want to accomplish the work of James Yen, the work of Liang Shu-ming. Had it not been for Minjian’s closure, we would have worked forever in silence.
What is the most difficult thing to do in China? The good deed. A publication reporting on public welfare is shut down . . . In his report to [the recent] 17th National Congress, President Hu Jintao said we must work hard on civic education, yet Minjian, the only publication to make civic education its duty, is closed down. Who then should we believe?
Drowsy Minjian, she dies with a smile. Because it is she who opted for this way of publishing, to get around press controls and stand for the common people. She consents to this use of death, a reminder to us all of just how far we have to go to reach freedom of speech and of the press. A reminder of how near the bullets are.
The sirens should be sounded. In every nation with freedom of the press across the world there are publishing licenses [or book numbers, etc.] for the sole purpose of record keeping, but only in China have these become a weapon of censorship and control, so that even internal printing requires a certificate with official approval, and so too with online publications and electronic materials, and so too with at-home and hotel satellite television programming . . . The government’s eye glares in every corner where information freedoms are concerned in China.
In the late Qing Dynasty any adult citizen who was not mentally ill or a convict could start their own publication. Today our dream of private media has still not been realized.
China’s hosting of the 2008 Olympic Games might demonstrate that Chinese people are physically stronger and sturdier, but the death of Minjian reminds us that the mental horizons of the Chinese people are limited to the child’s playground. While the market is glutted with mediocre, materialistic consumer fare, public affairs news materials are repeatedly pressured and bled out.
. . . I am willing to take full responsibility as the founder and leader of this publication.
I am acting chief editor of Minjian, and I am prepared to stand with my colleagues in taking full responsibility, including legal responsibility. But more than this, I am a free journalist. You could say I was angry when I was let go from my position as a reporter for Southern Weekend those years ago, annoyed at press controls. But today it is not anger I feel. If I feel anything it is pity. Pity for Minjian, and pity that the efforts of the people [“Minjian”] have been ruined. With a delicate and gracious heart, Minjian sought to build a civil society – but the government branded her “an enemy of the public and an illegal publication.”
I pity too those backstage murderers, so terrified that Minjian should put off a bit of light and heat, that the tiniest voice might bring “grave consequences.” This was a year of development for Minjian. We had readers across the country and received recognition from various quarters. One of our first issues to be shut down dealt with rights defense actions in the area of land use, and perhaps this is one reason our “old friends” [in the government] have been so afraid. During our second year authorities were clear about Minjian’s actions but never shut us down, so I thank them for their “tolerance” . . . Over these short two and a half years of Minjian’s existence, our colleagues at Minjian have enjoyed confidence and happiness and found joy in their work. They [the government] have put an end to our happiness. Nevertheless, we of Minjian still hope that they might find happiness [and freedom from fear and paranoia] – that they might cast off the psychological bent wrought of this long season of autocracy.

By Joseph Cheng (程金福) – In an uncharacteristic move, propaganda authorities apparently ordered the removal from the Web yesterday of an editorial from China’s official news agency. The editorial, posted on the Web on August 18, dealt with dirty land deals between local officials and development firms and was Xinhua’s own follow-up on an investigative report appearing in the November 15 edition of Guangdong’s Southern Weekend.
The Southern Weekend report detailed how officials at Guangzhou’s Country Garden (碧桂园), a major development firm some have called “China’s biggest landlord”, had been able to systematically purchase village land at no cost thanks to behind-the-scenes dealings with local leaders across China.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Xinhua editorial at QQ.com]

The Xinhua editorial, deleted from the agency’s own site and many other portals but still available through QQ.com and Hexun, likened China’s real estate sector to a “stampede of wild horses, negating macroeconomic controls and hopes for home ownership among ordinary people.”
Yesterday, readers clicking the link for the Xinhua editorial at the agency’s official site, or from the Google search page, received the following message: “We’re sorry, but you’ve selected an item that has expired or has already been removed.”

[ABOVE: Message at Xinhuanet saying the Xinhua editorial on land deals has been removed.]

RELATED LINKS:
“Watchdog journalism vs. shady land deals“, Joel Martinsen, Danwei.org

By David Bandurski — If I had a jiao for every time someone’s told me the Chinese don’t care about politics or democracy, I’d have enough chunk change to fund an American presidential campaign. “The new middle class is young, rich and happy. Just don’t mention politics,” Time reported not long ago. And we are elsewhere informed that “new-generation Chinese”, who exist in a “parallel universe,” “do not want democracy.”
Isn’t there an alternative? Between the Oz of the “China Fantasy” (that a rising Chinese middle class must usher in democracy as we know it), and the nationalistic notion of Chinese cultural subjectivity, the cop-out “parallel universe” of Chinese values in which “our white is their black and their black our white” and democracy could never take root? [Click here for historian Yuan Weishi’s critique of so-called Chinese “cultural subjectivity”].

[ABOVE: Screen capture of Tom Doctoroff’s blog at Huffington Post arguing Chinese exist in a “parallel universe” of values.]

The answer, the oft-neglected missing piece, is expression. These assumptions about the Chinese and their shallowest convictions fail to account for the salient fact that real dialogue about politics or civic life is now and has historically been suppressed in China. Speech, the basic condition of public participation in political affairs, is something the Communist Party has historically monopolized.
So while it’s basically true that politics and democracy are not readily discernible topics in China, it’s more to the point to say that China is a one-party state that does not tolerate political debate.
Just as the factor of speech is missing from these calculations about the political insouciance of the Chinese people, speech may also be the key to reading China’s political future.
Last week, CMP co-director Qian Gang (钱钢) wrote in Hong Kong’s Yazhou Zhoukan that liberalization in the area of expression in China is a critical precursor to political reforms. Continuing his analysis of Hu Jintao’s recent political report to the 17th National Congress, Qian Gang suggested top leaders might be thinking in this direction too:

Those keeping track of political reform in China noticed the phrase “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) in Hu Jintao’s political report to the recent 17th National Congress.
This phrase is in fact a slight revision from Jiang Zemin’s political report back in 2002. In Jiang’s report the fifth section, “Political Development and Political Reform” (政治建设和政治体制改革), said: In the matter of cadre selection and appointment, Party members and ordinary people should have more right to know, participate, choose and supervise” (扩大党员和群众对干部选拔任用的知情权、参与权、选择权和监督权).
In Hu’s rendition the term “right to select”, or xuanze quan (选择权), is replaced with the “right to expression”, or biaoda quan (表达权) . . .

While in Jiang’s report the above “four rights” phrase appears in reference to cadre selection, it is used more generally in Hu’s report to talk about democracy. And as Qian Gang points out, “expression” replaces “selection” in Hu’s rendering.
A reader asked us recently on the CMP site whether anything positive had appeared in the report to the 17th National Congress. This could, knock on wood, be read as a positive sign.
Calling the inclusion of “right to expression” in Hu’s report the “product of careful consideration,” Qian relates it to a phrase used by political activist Wang Juntao and others during the political reform movement of the 1980s. That phrase, “checking and balancing [power] with diverse expression by intellectual elites” (多元表达，精英制衡), meant essentially that democracy should begin taking shape in China through expansion of rights to expression. From there it should progress gradually toward direct public participation through electoral politics.
The term “right to expression” has in fact gained some traction in China’s media over the last 10 years, and is often linked directly with other basic rights like the right to subsistence (生存权).
Qian Gang’s point is not unlike that of Chinese political activist Chen Ziming (陈子明), who wrote (again in Yazhou Zhoukan) earlier this year that “social opening” (社会开放) in China, including tolerance for voices of opposition to the party and non-party media, would precede “political opening” （政治开放）.
In that article, Chen said — perhaps with a surplus of optimism — that “social opening,” including action on press freedom, should be a core task of the Hu-Wen leadership over the next five years:

Of course I hope that major political reforms can be pushed ahead in the age of Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao. But if in the next five years they can resolve the task of ‘social opening’ that would be adequate.

What Qian Gang and Chen Ziming are suggesting is that we can expect (and/or hope for) progress on the right to expression to precede political reform. For this to happen, as Chen justifiably argues, China would have to allow the formation of independent social organizations (社会组织) and independent media, laying down the foundations for civil society.
If this happened Chinese could begin the conversation about China’s political future that so many China watchers have found conspicuously absent. That conversation, says Qian Gang, is itself part of the democratization process, and we should not focus narrowly on participation through democratic election as the immediate goal of political reform:

We cannot lash freedom and democracy together. If one morning, freedom of expression and democracy were liberated from their bonds, this would not necessarily be a great blessing for the people. Democracy must proceed gradually. It requires that the people march ahead in their daily lives, and that march is freedom of expression. Freedom of expression cannot dawdle along. The most reliable path of political development in China would be a succession of openings – opening of expression (言论开放), then social opening (社会开放), then political opening (政治开放).

The process of expression has only just begun in China. But we are fortunately at a point now where we can begin listening to Chinese voices on issues of critical importance to the Chinese.
However the party might try to “guide” public opinion, these voices are growing daily more diverse. And what they are saying is far more complex than a simple, dismissive “No.”
There are enough voices already to belie the narrow chauvinism — the cultural, political and intellectual Great Wall — of Chinese “cultural subjectivity”. There are voices clamoring for universal values even as they seek China’s own path.
Nor should we forget that China’s “Me generation” is also its most expressive ever. We can of course glimpse this in Chinese weblogs and online discussion forums. But it’s in evidence in China’s traditional media too, where commentary sections are cautiously expanding to include a greater variety of voices on issues that include basic civil rights.
“We have so much bigger a desire for everything than [our parents],” Time quoted 27 year-old Maria Zhang as saying. “And the more we eat, the more we taste and see, the more we want.”
And the more, no doubt, they will have to say.

By David Bandurski — We don’t know whether Li Liangyu (李连玉), the top leader in the city of Pizhou, Jiangsu Province, anticipated the well-planned orgy of enthusiasm that awaited him on his return from the 17th National Congress. It’s safe to assume, however, that he never expected the national furor that has followed in the wake of his homecoming. Li’s story, which began as a series of photos posted in an online chatroom, is now national news, and a simmering indictment of a party selfishly out of touch.
As web users branded Li Lianyu a “local emperor” (土皇帝) and invoked the triumphal returns (衣锦还乡) of China’s imperial history, leaders in Pizhou threw oil on the fire by clamping down on postings to a local Internet forum, where users were overwhelmingly critical of Li [See Global Voice on web user comments].
Coverage has now appeared in media across China, from People’s Daily to Southern Metropolis Daily.

[ABOVE: Screen capture of notice on a Pizhou chatroom against further postings concerning the Li Lianyu Affair]

Today’s editorial in Southern Metropolis Daily read the Li Lianyu affair in terms of fear and love. The editorial expressed apprehension for the web user who made the original post, wondering whether police in Pizhou would hunt the person down and “sue them for harming an official by rumor mongering.”
The editorial also questioned Li Lianyu’s priorities:

Liu Xiaofeng (刘小枫) has written a book called Fear and Love in this Generation. I’d really like to know: When Secretary Li and company were planning this huge ceremony, where were they placing their love? And when they deleted those postings, what were they afraid of? This question of love and fear offers a faithful portrait of officialdom in local areas.

Others have been less reticent in their criticism, and the debate over Li Lianyu’s triumphal return has already touched on the deeper question of how China’s communist leaders see their own role.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of Li Lianyu story covered at China Digital Times]

In an editorial appearing on Wednesday at China Elections and Governance (CEG), CEG editor Ye Zi said Li Lianyu’s homecoming could not be stomached by China’s public because it was painfully at odds with a new set of emerging values in China. The people, she said, were owed an apology.
Leaders like Li Lianyu, said Ye, were forgetting their place. They were forgetting their obligations to the people, and that power was vested in them by the people.
“We find the scenes [at Pizhou] jarring,” said Ye, “because there’s no need anymore to beat our gongs and our drums to herald anyone’s return in victory. What does that mean? It means that the Communist Party of China has already completed its mission as the party of revolution, and that it must find a position for itself as a party of leadership (执政党).”
The anger invoked by the Li Lianyu affair, in other words, sends the clear message that this is no longer an age of martyrs and heroes. Chinese owe their allegiance not to cadres and kings, but to a system of universal values.

—————-
What We’re Really Waiting for is an Earnest Apology
China Elections and Governance
By Ye Zi (叶子)
If the “Secretary of Pizhou” story were a listed stock it would be blazing hot judging by the number of hits it’s getting on the web. We could of course be talking about other things, like the affairs of the nation in the wake of the 17th National Congress. But I’m afraid nothing quite grabs the eyes like this story of a delegate’s return home.
In just the last two days I’ve received no less than five e-mails with pictures attached of this Pizhou party secretary returning home after serving as a delegate to the congress. One of these came from a middle-aged professor of Asian studies at a major university who has close links to the Brookings Institution and other think tanks. Two of them came from elderly veteran journalists who entered central party media back in the 1950s and 1960s. And two came from friends of mine born after 1980, one a journalist the other a masters student. I routinely get e-mails like this from friends and colleagues, but this is the first time I’ve been bombarded in this way.
So I’ve been thinking. What is it that’s made people care so much about something we should already have gotten so numbingly accustomed to?
We placed these photos in an inconspicuous place [on our website]. At the bottom-right corner of our site is the “Discussion and Analysis” column (疑义相析). Friends who are familiar with our site probably know that this column was originally called, “Perspectives Clash” (观点撞击). We eventually changed this to “Discussion and Analysis” because “clash” was too un-harmonious. The column is all about enjoying great articles together and discussing their significance.
The “contending of different viewpoints” is simply an objective fact in any society, and not something you can simply put an end to if you don’t approve [as government officials are wont to do, as the Pizhou chatroom notice telling Web users to cool it]. “The opening of a single flower doesn’t herald the arrival of spring” (一花独放不是春 百花齐放春满园). And there is another old saying, that “if the forest is big enough you can find any sort of bird there” (林子大了什么鸟儿都有). This works the other way round too. If there’s only one kind of bird, it means the forest isn’t big enough, that there is insufficient harmony, as it were, in the ecological environment. [Ye Zi is saying that discussion should be expected and allowed to flourish in a society, not be controlled by those in power].
I stumbled upon an essay recently that sheds some light on this group of pictures [of the Pizhou party secretary returning home] by asking about party congresses in America. The piece was written about delegates to the 17th National Congress: “As our 17th congress was being held with much clamor, a friend told me he had a friend who was serving as a delegate. This friend was someone of intelligence and character, but he had seen in news reports that he was meaninglessly repeating the language of national leaders at the congress. Do American political parties hold these kinds of meetings, he asked.”
Minor details and major changes. Li Lianyu (李连玉) basked personally in the scientific view of development and harmonious society [at the congress]. And after he had represented the broadest sections of the people in celebrating the policies of the party (代表了最广大的人民歌颂了党的政策) [NOTE: the language here purposely mimics the lofty speech of the party], delegate Li Lianyu returned home triumphantly.
Xiang Yu (ancient king of Chu) taught us: “To not return home when you have riches and honor is like parading through the darkness in a rich gown”. When Li Liangyu returned home triumphantly it was approaching nightfall and the lights were flickering on. Thousands of men and women, young and old, of all walks of life, turned out to express their heartfelt welcome.
Perhaps these people really turned out of their will. But I don’t know if Secretary Li is aware of yet another old saying that goes, “Oh, this is too much” (折煞我也) [This is a phrase used in Chinese when someone extends too much honor]. Had he an ounce of respect or reverence for the people, Secretary Li would not so flagrantly have accepted the honors extended to him.
Is Pizhou’s party secretary “confused”? Setting aside the malpractices of Pizhou City event organizers, Secretary Li’s gall is astonishing.
[Web user] Chenyi Yuanshi (陈毅元帅) pointed out that the victory of [the People’s Liberation Army] in the Huaihai Campaign was won by dint of the people’s efforts. The ashes of [PLA] General Su Yu (粟裕) are buried at Pizhou … Twelve days of vicious engagement, and do you think the battle could have been won without the support of the people?
. . .
How is it that a single Li Lianyu can garner so much attention and create such a big stink? Close to 8,000 hits for an article placed in an inconspicuous corner of our website. This is unexpected during an Autumn 2007 in which website traffic has been rather low.
. . .
We find the scenes [at Pizhou] jarring because there’s no need anymore to beat our gongs and our drums to herald anyone’s return in victory. What does that mean? It means that the Communist Party of China has already completed its mission as the party of revolution, and that it must find a position for itself as a party of leadership (执政党). What a party of leadership needs to do is let the people live and work in peace and contentment, and pass their days in richness, living life in ease without the feeling they need to thank anyone for it or feel indebted.
“Pizhou was the home of China’s youngest martyr [1941-1949], Song Zhenzhong (宋振中 ), the “Little Radish” of the novel Red Rock (红岩).” In the musical drama “Red Child” (红孩子), which recently played in Beijing, the character “Little Radish” says to Little Sky, the child of tomorrow: “You must all believe in our existence, just as we believe in yours.” Those were for me the most moving words of the performance. “You … all.” It was only because those martyrs past believed that we might live on this land without being mental and physical captives that they laid down their lives without looking back.
This is a major national trend [of our time].
As we find our national character we must embrace universal values. Chinese people should seek the interests of China on the basis of universal values. China is at the point where it needs to make a breakthrough. The 17th National Congress has established a value system for the medium to long term [Ye Zi means here that the congress set down values that are universal, such as freedom and fairness, mentioned in Hu Jintao’s report]. World history shows that the short term is about the interplay of interests and the long term is about the interplay of values. Values consistent with the times will win out in the medium to long term.
It’s precisely because the basic values set out at the 17th National Congress are shared by the people, including Web users, that we cannot stomach Li Lianyu’s image as a returning delegate.
It’s not that we’re not familiar with the “national characteristics” evinced in such characters as Su Qin (苏秦) [a key political strategist of the Warring States Period, 475-221 B.C.] . . . And we don’t imagine Liu Lianyu to be guilty of heinous crimes. We don’t need anyone to step out [in an official press conference] and explain to us what happened. All we are waiting for is a sincere apology. We don’t want yet again to see the Pizhou chat forum notice [warning Web users to stop their criticism]. What we want to see is a party of leadership reflecting earnestly on its actions from top to bottom.

November 2007 — Shi Zhe is a producer for “One-Seventh”, a weekly television news program from Shanghai Media Group (SMG). Shi Zhe specializes in investigative reporting, and his reports have covered a range of areas, including environmental protection, AIDS and civil rights. Mr. Shi is a graduate of Fudan University’s school of journalism.

By Jacky Lee – A noxious combination of state power, keen commercial competition and media mismanagement have spawned endemic corruption in China’s news media in recent years, Fudan University journalism professor Lu Ye (陆晔) told an audience at the University of Hong Kong Friday. While corruption occurs across the board, said Lu, it is particularly prevalent at government-run media, which can use the authority vested in them by administrative offices to extort money from local governments and private enterprises.
Professor Lu called this corruption “rent-seeking,” or quanli xunzu (权力寻租).

Lu’s talk, “Media Corruption in China,” was hosted by the China Media Project of the Journalism & Media Studies Centre, where Lu is currently a visiting fellow.
Stiffer competition, felt most keenly by government-run media, is another contributor to corruption, said Lu. While government funding has been progressively pulled from official media, they have not raised their market competitiveness or found their own audiences. “These publications cannot compete with commercial publications, and subsidies aren’t sufficient to ensure their survival in a market economy,” Lu said.
The way out for many of these media is abuse of their administrative power to force cash payments or advertising buys.
The problem of media corruption in China became international news in January this year with the beating death of Lan Chengzhang (兰成长), a reporter for China Trade News. The newspaper, published by the China Council for the Promotion of International Trade (CCPIT), a national organization representing the economic and trade sectors in China, had hired Lan on a temporary basis. Lan was killed as he tried to extort money from an illegal coal mine in Shanxi by threatening to expose its operations.
As a newspaper backed by an official organization, China Trade News had sufficient authority and social status to twist the arms of local officials and businesses, Lu said.
Internal management mechanisms at media are also an important factor in media corruption, according to Lu. “This problem is less serious at larger and more newly-established publications that are commercially oriented. Larger publications generally have better income and management,” said Lu.
Lu said low pay in the media sector was a further problem, encouraging journalists to view “red envelopes” and other perks as routine and deserved.
Every year, journalism students at Fudan organize an academic seminar on media, but the press environment in China presents them with unique challenges as they try to get the word out, said Lu. Reporters express and interest in covering the event, but always want to know whether they the department will provide “transportation subsidies”, a code word for cash payments for participation.
Summing up her feelings about the issue of media corruption, Lu suggested resolving the issue would necessitate deeper institutional change. “I am quite pessimistic about the situation [of media corruption in China],” said Lu. “It’s something that can’t be resolved simply by improving management and ethical standards.”

By David Bandurski (班志远) — We’ve written extensively at CMP about the institutional causes of poor media professionalism in China — from the Lan Chengzhang case to the more recent “cardboard bun” hoax. Anticipating CMP fellow Lu Ye’s talk tonight on media corruption, we return again to the question of the deeper causes of poor ethics, questions that have larger implications for journalism and free speech in China.
Last month, in an article appearing at the online China Media Observation (CMO), scholars Ling Chen (凌陈) and Li Hongbin (李红兵) discussed the now-classic “cardboard bun” hoax, in which freelance TV reporter Zhai Beijia (訾北佳) was jailed for producing a fake news report about unscrupulous vendors filling steamed buns with a mixture of meat and cardboard.

[IMAGE: Screenshot of China Media Observation analysis of the “cardboard bun” hoax, September 21, 2007]

[HOMEPAGE: Screenshot of Henan Commercial Daily coverage of citizen TV reporters.]

The CMO article described Zhai, and others like him, as “news migrants,” or xinwen mingong (新闻民工), a term suggesting journalists not under official hire, or bianzhi (编制), are the victims of social and political injustice in much the same way that “rural” migrant workers are second-class citizens under China’s two-tiered household registration system (二元户籍制度).
A legacy of the planned economy era, China’s bianzhi system means the government specifies how many employees can be hired for a work unit (company) and under what conditions. As Chinese media have commercialized, their personnel needs have outpaced the limitations of the bianzhi system. Freelancers, or permanent employees not on official hire (编制外), fill the gap. Owing to the limitations of the bianzhi system, however, these employees are not entitled to the same benefits (steady salaries, healthcare coverage, etc.) as their workmates on official hire (编制内). At CCTV, the latter are called the “imperial guard” (皇军).
“The investigation that followed the “cardboard bun” hoax shows that “news migrants” are not only the disadvantaged group (弱势群体) within the news industry,” the authors of the CMO article wrote, “but also an at-risk group (高危群体).”
The article concludes: “The ‘cardboard bun’ hoax demands that journalists, particularly ‘news migrants,’ take a hard look at their own behavior. But it also sends up a warning about the need to improve the working environment for ‘news migrants.’ For the media, protecting the legal rights of ‘news migrants’ is just as important as ensuring the truth of the news.”
The authors understandably stop short of suggesting alternatives. After all, improving the “working environment” for this at-risk group would entail fundamental changes to the way media are handled by the state in China. It would mean revisiting the dangerous question of who controls the media and questioning their political role as organs, or “mouthpieces”, of the party.
If news media were completely self-reliant (hiring whomever they please with their own resources to suit their commercial needs) they might become news organizations in their own right. And that danger gives bianzhi the edge in China’s current political environment.
So long as news media are eating the emperor’s grain (吃皇粮), they will do the emperor’s bidding.
______________

Looking at China’s media environment through the “cardboard bun” hoax

The buzz over the recent “cardboard bun” hoax has now simmered down. But interest in the issue of “news migrants” and their situation has been heating up.
A temporary worker manufactured the fake news about “cardboard buns”. Why? And how was it possible?
A fake news segment was aired on Beijing TV. Why? And how was it possible?
And what can we say about the ensuing investigation and the administrative and legal procedures for dealing with the case?
The “cardboard bun” hoax continues to raises questions, and the reflection engendered by the hoax has overtaken the hoax itself.
In China’s media world there has always been a niche for this group of people [i.e.: temporary news employees, or “news migrants”] …
　　
They can be full of idealism, doing journalism with great gusto, and yet the news outfits that use them cast them aside because of official hiring limitations and cost considerations.
They sweat and even bleed to get the story out, and yet get very little from the media they work for.
They work tirelessly to safeguard the rights and benefits of others, but their own rights are lost in the shuffle.
They are the first on the scene, but in the news profession they always come in last.
They work hardest to get the job done, but they are paid the least, and with the least protection.
They are the downtrodden of China’s journalism profession.
They share a common identity – they are “news migrants” (新闻民工).
Lan Chengzhang (兰成长), the reporter for China Trade News killed earlier [this year] was cut of this cloth, and so was Zhai Beijia of the “cardboard bun” hoax.
Zhai Beijia was first a reporter for China Central Television, but because he was a temporary employee (临时人员), a worker outside the official hiring system (编外员工) , he was brooding and unhappy. When he went to Beijing Television, he became one of the main forces behind the “Transparency” program (透明度) on BTV-7, the lifestyle channel.
“Transparency” is a special service-oriented program airing once a week at Beijing TV. It relies on real investigation by reporters and on first-hand evidence to look at market and consumer behavior, telling viewers how to tell the difference between real and fake products. The programs often involve undercover reporting based on leads of a more explosive nature. Ratings for the program are quite high. “Transparency” is ranked number four among the station’s news and current affairs programs.
[List of topics of Zhai Beijia’s coverage at Beijing TV, including problems like fake kabobs and dangerous pastries]. But the 28 year-old Zhai was only a temporary worker, not a journalist under official hire. He was exactly what we often call a “news migrant.”
For “news migrants”, the ability to finish tasks and get more work is linked directly to their work environment and the opportunities afforded them … In order to make a good impression on the boss at the media they work for, they have to be resolute, making no bones about finishing jobs … They are in a Catch 22: faced with things they can’t do and aren’t able to do [for moral and legal reasons], and don’t wish to do [for fear of the consequences], they must do them nevertheless. Zhai Beijia is the very portrait of this impossible choice facing “news migrants.”
In early June 2007, “Transparency” received a phone call from a viewer saying there were steamed buns made using pieces of cardboard. Zhai Beijia was given the task of following up on the story. In order to fulfill this task, he spent days buying steamed buns and trying them out. But he couldn’t find any buns made with cardboard, so what then? If he gave it up and had nothing to give his superiors he would lose the job and have no money whatsoever to show for it (as payment depended on his coming through).
Under very real survival pressure, Zhai Beijia decided to fake the story. Using the name “Hu Yue” (胡月) and pretending to be a the boss of a construction site, he went to Number 13 Shizikou Village in Beijing’s Chaoyang District, where he told breakfast cook Wei Quanfeng (卫全峰), a migrant from Shaanxi Province, and 3 others that he needed a huge order of dumplings. Later, Zhai Beijia went back to Number 13 with undercover filming equipment, cardboard boxes and flour and ground meat he had bought himself. Saying he needed to feed his dog, Zhai asked Wei Quanfeng and the others to soak the cardboard and mix it in with the meat to make 20 “cardboard buns.” All the while Zhai Beijia secretly filmed the process.
In producing the final program, Zhai Beijia edited the footage and added fake voice-over. The result was a fake news item called “Buns Made Out of Cardboard.” … The segment aired on July 8, 2007, at 7pm on Beijing TV’s lifestyle channel (BTV-7).
[Article relates the particulars of the ensuing investigation. July 16, police carry out an inspection of steamed buns at 26 vendors in the city, etc.]
On July 18, Beijing TV stated on its “Beijing News” program that the cardboard bun story was a fake and that its creator had been detained by authorities. The station apologized to the public.
In China’s news industry there are three levels of gate keeping. So how did the cardboard bun story get through? An employee at “Transparency” said that since the show’s inception it had never come across fake programming. When Zhai Beijia material was in the production process, they asked more than once about its authenticity. Zhai was adamant, so they went ahead with the segment.
From this response we can see two points. First, everyone had let down their guard, believing there had never been fake news on the show. Second, faith in [the show’s] employees had replaced strict news controls.
[How the story became major national news after airing, with help from new media, etc.]
When we look at how this story got through, aside from the issue of Zhai Beijia’s own professional conduct, we see that the major cause is the drive for profit. The television station’s priority was getting an explosive story that could draw viewers, and with this end in sight they weakened oversight. The journalist’s priority was getting his 5,000-yuan fee for the piece, thereby closing the gap with his colleagues under official hire (正编记者).
“News migrants” exist throughout our country’s news industry. Some have official press cards but are not under official hire. Others do not have press cards and use interview certificates (采访证) or work certificates (工作证) to report stories. Given the sheer number of such journalists, it would be unrealistic to get rid of them. This would be an irrational and extreme response. The heavy-handed tactics of some well-known television stations in China [presumably, like CCTV] — getting rid of all temporary personnel in one go, getting rid of all employees outside of the official hire system, including early termination of internships for college students – are not worthy of emulation. Liu Binjie (柳斌杰), head of the General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP), has said that fake reporters should be dealt with differently from those hired provisionally by media who are temporarily without news journalist identities (不具备新闻记者身份). As for the first, [said Liu], they must be firmly dealt with. As for the second, they should be issued the proper press credentials after completing testing and showing they can work successfully in the news media. We must, he said, continue to improve the entry system for journalism professionals through these special programs [of training and certification]. From this day forward, the credentials of all journalism personnel must be certified by administrative departments of the state [i.e., GAPP].
The investigation that followed the “cardboard bun” hoax shows that “news migrants” are not only the disadvantaged group (弱势群体) within the news industry but also an at-risk group (高危群体). After the hoax, both Zhai and Beijing TV paid a painful price.
On July 19, the All-China Journalist Association (ACJA) issued a firm notice saying the “cardboard bun” hoax would be dealt with severely.
On July 23, the Central Propaganda Department, State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT) and GAPP issued a notice demanding that local propaganda offices, local offices of SARFT and the ACJA and news media learn from the mistakes of Beijing TV and ensure the truth and accuracy of the news …
[Zi Beigui is detained. Three employees at “Transparency”, including a vice-director and a producer, are fired.]
[July 26: 20 Websites issue a joint declaration against fake news (“抵制假新闻，净化网络环境”)]
In court, lawyer Zhang Jie (张浩) served as Zhai Beijia’s counsel. In fact, Zhai Beijia’s criminal detention had already attracted the attention of many legal scholars, who felt that the Criminal Law had no stipulations relevant to Zhai’s activity. In an interview with Caijing magazine, [CMP Fellow] Zhan Jiang (展江), a professor at China Youth University of Political Science, raised this question. The lack of a press law in China, said Zhan, made it hard to reach a verdict in the case.
During the court hearing, the debate between prosecution and defense centered on whether Zhai Beigui’s behavior was indeed criminal (构不构成犯罪), and whether his behavior was direct intent (直接故意) or indirect intent (间接故意). In the end the court applied the charges as made in the indictment from the procuratorate. According to the indictment, Zhai Beigui’s fabrication and dissemination of a false version of the facts was a criminal offense because it had damaged the commercial reputations of related business owners and the nature of the case was serious …
Truth is the very life of journalism, and false news is its enemy. A small number of news people neglect the law and party news discipline. In pursuit of a selling point they build up negative news or manufacture news altogether, disregarding the important social role of information and their own professional obligations. A few news media are lax in their oversight, superficially pursuing ratings and circulation, and this creates an opportunity for fake news, with thoroughly negative implications …
Without a doubt, the “cardboard bun” hoax led to a tightening of nerves in the media over the issue of “news migrants.” But the truth is that “news migrants” account for more than half of all journalists under hire for many media in China. The vast majority of them are good, and the law-breakers and problem ones are the minority. Speaking to the heart of the matter, “news migrants” are the keystone, the supporting beam, of China’s media. This group must, on the one hand, be controlled. They must not be allowed to work unchecked. On the other hand, this group must be protected. We cannot intensify the challenges facing them just because of the damage caused by a few, worsening even further the environment in which they work. The question of how to check and protect them is not merely a matter of fairly, impartially and legally protecting their rights, but directly concerns the healthy development of the news industry.
The “cardboard bun” hoax demands that journalists, particularly “news migrants,” take a hard look at their own behavior. But it also sends up a warning about the need to improve the working environment for “news migrants.” For the media, protecting the legal rights of “news migrants” is just as important as ensuring the truth of the news.

SEE Also:
“QQ runs interactive feature page on the problem of “fake reporters” in China”
“CCTV’s freelancer purge corroborated/Henan newspaper explores growth in citizen journalism”

By Qian Gang (钱钢) — Before the 17th National Congress went into session I said we would have to see whether the phrase “political reform” (政治体制改革) appeared in a subhead in Hu Jintao’s political report. This, I said, would determine whether political reform would become a key agenda over the next five years. Based on appearances of the term in the 13th, 14th, 15th and 16th congress reports, I defined the presence of “political reform” in just one subhead as a minimum expectation of Hu’s political report.
But Hu Jintao’s report frustrated even our most modest hopes.
.

[ABOVE: Screenshot of People’s Daily online press center for the 17th National Congress, October 23, 2007.]

The 17th congress marks the first time in five major party meetings since the 13th National Congress in 1987 that we have not seen “political reform” in a subhead. In Zhao Ziyang’s report to the 13th congress, section five was called, “Concerning Political Reform” (关于政治体制改革).
In Jiang Zemin’s report to the 14th congress, section two, “Key Tasks for Reform and Building in the 1990s” (九十年代改革和建设的主要任务), listed 10 key objectives. The smaller subhead for task six read: “Actively Promoting Political Reform, Making Relatively Major Progress on Socialist Democracy and the Legal System” (积极推进政治体制改革，使社会主义民主和法制建设有一个较大的发展).
Section six of the 15th congress report, also by Jiang Zemin, was headed: “Political Reform and the Building of Democracy and the Legal System” (政治体制改革和民主法制建设). Section five of Jiang Zemin’s report to the 16th National Congress in 2002 carried the subhead: “Political Building and Political Reform (政治建设和政治体制改革).
In this year’s report to the 17th National Congress, Hu Jintao does not place “political reform” in a subhead. Instead, the section dealing with the issue of political reform is called, “Steadfastly Developing Socialist Democratic Politics” (坚定不移发展社会主义民主政治)。
The section has the following to say about political reform:

People’s democracy is the very life of socialism. The development of socialist democratic politics (社会主义民主政治) is a goal toward which our party struggles tenaciously. Since the beginning of the opening and reform policy, we have actively and prudently pushed ahead with political reform, bringing about a blossoming of socialist democratic politics. As an important component of comprehensive reforms in our country, political reforms must continually deepen so as to be compatible with economic and social development, and the people’s increasingly active participation in political affairs.
We must continue on the road to political development under socialism with Chinese characteristics, adhering to a unification of the Party’s leadership, the people as masters of the country and rule of law. We must adhere to and perfect the system of the National People’s Congress, the system of multi-party cooperation and political consultation under the leadership of Communist Party, and systems of regional ethnic autonomy and self-governance at the grassroots level, constantly seeking self-improvement and development of the socialist system.
In deepening political reforms we must hold to the correct political orientation, expanding socialist democracy, building a socialist country governed by rule of law and advancing socialist political civilization with the goal of ensuring that the people are the masters of the country, that the vitality of the party and country are lifted, and that the initiative of the people is stimulated.
人民民主是社会主义的生命。发展社会主义民主政治是我们党始终不渝的奋斗目标。改革开放以来，我们积极稳妥推进政治体制改革，我国社会主义民主政治展现出更加旺盛的生命力。政治体制改革作为我国全面改革的重要组成部分，必须随着经济社会发展而不断深化，与人民政治参与积极性不断提高相适应.
要坚持中国特色社会主义政治发展道路，坚持党的领导、人民当家作主、依法治国有机统一，坚持和完善人民代表大会制度、中国共产党领导的多党合作和政治协商制度、民族区域自治制度以及基层群众自治制度，不断推进社会主义政治制度自我完善和发展.
深化政治体制改革，必须坚持正确政治方向，以保证人民当家作主为根本，以增强党和国家活力、调动人民积极性为目标，扩大社会主义民主，建设社会主义法治国家，发展社会主义政治文明.

In the section of Hu’s report dealing with political reform, the term itself is not used. The phrase “democratic politics” stands in its stead. Not a big deal, right? This is a tiresome exercise in hair-splitting, right?
Wrong.
In China’s political lexicon, the term “political reform”, or zhengzhi tizhe gaige (政治体制改革), is relatively sensitive. By contrast, “democratic politics” is safe. Searching through a database of mainland newspaper coverage, CMP has found that “democratic politics” has enjoyed a high and steady degree of use over the last several years.
Before 1949 the term “democratic politics” was a weapon the Chinese Communist Party used in its ideological battle with the ruling Kuomintang Party. In the 1980s, Zhao Ziyang said the goal of economic reforms was to create a commodity economy (商品经济), and the goal of political reforms was to build democratic politics. From that point on “democratic politics” became the preferred term used to extol the party’s democratic achievements, such as the national congress and CPPCC systems.
The term “political reform” is unambiguously directed at the problem of abuse of power in China. In his report to the 13th National Congress in 1987, Zhao Ziyang said:

The undertaking and deepening of economic structure reforms raises the need for more pressing political reforms. The course of developing a socialist commodity economy should also be a course of building socialist democratic politics. Without undertaking political reforms, reforms to the economic system cannot ultimately succeed.
经济体制改革的展开和深入，对政治体制改革提出了愈益紧迫的要求。发展社会主义商品经济的过程，应该是建设社会主义民主政治的过程。不进行政治体制改革，经济体制改革不可能最终取得成功.

Political reforms stagnated during the Jiang Zemin era, but Jiang continued to speak of political reform as a priority. In each of his reports to the 14th, 15th and 16th national congresses, Jiang wrote the term “political reform” into a section head – even if the specific language of the section in question set limitations on reform.
Now, in Hu Jintao’s report, “political reform” is left out of the section heads altogether.
This move should be read as a cold response to growing calls for political reform among intellectuals and the public in China. Hu Jintao is sending a clear message that political reform will not be one of his key agendas. In the so-called “four-in-one” (四位一体) formula of economic construction (经济建设), social construction (社会建设), cultural construction (文化建设) and political construction (政治建设), the first two will be the core priorities.
In his report, Hu Jintao dwells on the minute details of reform and avoids systemic issues. He sidesteps what Deng Xiaoping said in 1980 was the system’s most egregious fault – over-concentration of power. Nor does he talk about separating the functions of party and government (党政分开).
Hu Jintao has carried on many terms of the Jiang Zemin era that signal persisting limitations on political reform – terms like “actively and cautiously” (积极稳妥), “upholding the leadership of the Communist Party” (坚持党的领导), and “keeping firmly to the correct political orientation” (坚持正确政治方向).
Hu’s stand on political reform in this year’s report underlines his apprehension. He is not endorsing and encouraging greater public participation in political affairs. Instead, he is sending a warning to those who support reforms.
When Hu Jintao talks about democratic politics he draws our attention to such issues as grassroots democracy, the building of the legal system and administrative reforms. He talks about the need for “supervision” (监督). But he offers no answer to the basic question of how, when over-concentration of power is a persisting problem, the opinions of the people can check and supervise organs of power.
There are some changes in Hu Jintao’s report. He has dropped a few stiff old phrases like “stability is of overriding importance” (稳定压倒一切) and “not copying models of political systems of the West” (绝不照搬西方政治制度)”.
But Hu Jintao has no major plans for political reform over the next five years, and his report makes this fact patently clear.
(Qian Gang, October 23, 2007)
[Translated by David Bandurski]