Author: David Bandurski

Now Executive Director of the China Media Project, leading the project’s research and partnerships, David originally joined the project in Hong Kong in 2004. He is the author of Dragons in Diamond Village (Penguin), a book of reportage about urbanization and social activism in China, and co-editor of Investigative Journalism in China (HKU Press).

Internet Giants Warned Amid Coronavirus Crackdown

A notice issued yesterday by the Cyberspace Administration of China, the central agency for control of the internet and social media, provides a glimpse not just of the actions being taken now by the authorities to control information about the coronavirus epidemic, but also of the platforms and activities that have threatened the Party’s dominance of information in recent days.

The notice, for example, singles out a number of WeChat public accounts alleged to have “illegally carried out reporting activities,” meaning that they are accused of acting journalistically, pursuing their own information on the epidemic. It orders the removal from app stores of “Pipi Gaoxiao” (皮皮搞笑), a platform for the sharing of short videos, suggesting that material on the platform has “spread panic.”

An online link to the “Pipi Gaoxiao” app now yields a 404 error, page not found.

The notice also says that Sina Weibo, Tencent, ByteDance and other internet companies will now be under “special supervision” (专项督导), which means essentially that the companies operating many of the country’s biggest and most popular internet platforms and services have been put on notice and are subject to much more active supervision and management by the CAC.

Here is a translation of the notice:

In recent days, the Cyberspace Administration of China has, on the basis of reports from the masses, directed local CACs to seriously deal with such information and content as the “Pipi Gaoxiao” (皮皮搞笑) online social platform which has distributed harmful short videos about the coronavirus outbreak, and has spread panic, [ordering them to] remove the app from the app store immediately. Concerning certain products on the Baidu web platform posting information in violation of regulations to users and conducting lax management, and Huxiu and other online platforms illegally engaging in internet news information services in epidemic-related reports and other problems, [the companies] have been called in for discussions in accord with the law. They have been ordered to immediately stop all illegal conduct and to carry out comprehensive and deep rectification, and these relevant online platforms [have been ordered to] close down problem sections (问题栏目). Concerning Sina Weibo, Tencent, ByteDance and other internet companies, special supervision (专项督导) will now be in effect. Concerning [the WeChat public accounts] “Netease Finance” (网易财经), “Sina Weitianxia” (新浪微天下), “Guyu Laboratory” (谷雨实验室), “Jianmeow” (史上最贱喵) and other online accounts that have illegally carried out reporting activities (自采), broadcast untrue information and other problems, they will be handed in a timely manner.

The CAC continues to strengthen its direction of provincial-level CACs, demanding that online platforms strictly carry out their responsibilities [in regard to content controls], and that local CACs actively exercise their management responsibilities, creating a favorable online environment for winning the war for prevention and control of the coronavirus outbreak.

The notice issued yesterday by the Cyberspace Administration of China.

[Featured image by Chinwag posted to Flickr.com under CC license.]

Wrestling Back the Agenda

A notice released to Chinese media this week concerning the coronavirus outbreak suggests that in terms of information and media policy we have now entered a new phase in which propaganda authorities are making a renewed push to secure the source of information and wrestle back control of public opinion.

Over the past two weeks, as the scale of the epidemic and the attempted cover-up became clear, Chinese commercial media and “self-media” (自媒体) led the charge in reporting and commentary, and authorities found it difficult to restrain information — particularly in the face of public anger and insatiable demand. This pattern is very similar to what we saw in the aftermath of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake and the 2011 Wenzhou train collision, providing a narrow window of opportunity to more enterprising media.

That window now seems to be closing. The focus of the authorities is on controlling the source and then pushing reporting and framing by trusted Party-state media as “authoritative” information. The instructions are as follows:

Reports concerning the epidemic must take [information from] authoritative departments as the standard. Sources of articles must be strictly regulated (严格规范), independent reporting (自采) is strictly prohibited, and the use of non-regulated (非规范) article sources, particularly self-media (自媒体) is strictly prohibited. Without joint arrangements [with authorities], daring to use outside media reports is strictly prohibited. When distributing authoritative reports, the original meaning of the news must not be twisted, such as through “misleading headlines” (标题党). Pop-up means must not be used to push unregulated articles or information, unverified information and information that might have a negative influence. Do not render commentary on our global mobilization to purchase prevention and control materials, in order to avoid interference with our overseas purchasing work. Do not render commentary on the economic impact of the epidemic, resolutely preventing talk of the Chinese economy being undermined by the epidemic. On the extension of the Spring Festival holiday in various locales, do not collect [information], do not make comparisons, and do not relate this with hyping or commentary to the impact on economic development.

[Cover image by Nicolo Lazzati available at Flickr.com under CC license.]

An Outbreak of Slogans

As China’s battle against the coronavirus outbreak continues, anger has spilled over online, testing the leadership’s capacity to achieve what it calls “guidance of public opinion,” or the control of society through information control. Users on WeChat, Weibo and many other platforms have shared stories, photos, video, or simply vented their rage at what many see as the inadequacy of the government’s response, particularly at the early stages of the outbreak.

And as communities across China mobilize against the spread of the disease, they are naturally exercising one very creative (and often revealing) aspect of the country’s political culture – the ubiquitous “slogan,” or biāoyǔ (标语).  Such slogans, which may deal with local or national policy issues as well as the personal — everything from (in the past) the one-child policy, to pushing basic social mores (like caring for one’s parents), to protests over the forced demolition of one’s home — are generally very simple in structure, direct (or even crude) and easy to understand.

As one post on China’s WeChat platform noted today, slogans should be artful enough to have the capacity to “intimidate, seduce, threaten or coerce.”

Here we share a number of current slogans invented in the midst of the coronavirus outbreak that have appeared on social media (see link above) and are reportedly from communities across China. We provide in some cases only approximate translations for these clever and frightful creations, some quite difficult to fully convey.

[1]

口罩还是呼吸机,

您老看着二选一

A face mask or a breathing tube,

Make a choice, it’s up to you.

[2]

带病回乡, 不孝儿郎

传染爹娘,丧尽天良

Returning home with your disease,

Will not make your parents pleased.

Infect mom and dad,

And your conscience is bad.

[3]

省小钱不戴口罩,

花大钱卧床治病

Save money not wearing a mask,

Spend big getting cured in your sickbed.

[4]

不聚餐是为了以后还能吃饭,

不串门是为了以后还有亲人

Not gathering for a feast is so you can eat in the future,

Not visiting others is so you still have relatives in the future.

[5]

今年过年不串门,

来串门的是敌人

敌人来了不开门

No visits from the New Year this year,

Those who come visiting are enemies.

We don’t open the door for enemies.

[6]

发烧不说的人,

都是潜伏在人民群众中的阶级敌人

Those who don’t mention their fever,

Are class enemies lurking among the people.

[7]

老实在家防感染,

丈人来了也得撵”

Earnestly prevent the infection of your home,

Casting out even your in-laws if they come.

[8]

本户有武汉返乡人员,请勿相互来往!

This house has a returnee from Wuhan,

Please do not come visit!

Party Media Focus Away From Outbreak

As it grapples with the Wuhan coronavirus outbreak, China is now dealing with the most serious infectious disease crisis since the 2003 outbreak of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS). Many experts agree that China’s monitoring and response systems have progressed a great deal since the cover up that year proved a major embarrassment to the government and prompted a rethink of policies to deal with so-called “sudden-breaking incidents,” or tufa shijian (突发事件). 

SARS in 2003 and the window of relative openness that followed the humiliating revelations of a cover up, the first great challenge to face the Hu Jintao administration, offered a new generation of Chinese media opportunities to break out professionally. The year was in many ways the culmination of changes happening progressively in the Chinese media through the second half of the 1990s.

This year we can see the difference clearly enough if we visit the websites and front pages (and news apps) of major commercial media such as The Beijing News, Southern Metropolis Daily and The Paper.  

Here is what you see today if you visit the website of The Beijing News, for example. The coronavirus outbreak is the top story, completely dominating the photo feature space with scenes from Wuhan.

Reporting at The Beijing News comes not just from official Xinhua News Agency releases, or from “mainstream” (in the official sense) Party media such as China Central Television. There are bylines from the newspaper’s own reporters, one interviewing an infectious disease expert in Wuhan, another offering current updates on the situation in various cities, another reporting statements from health officials in Beijing. There are reports from the ground in Wuhan, and also from Hong Kong.

This is not to say, of course, that the coverage is comprehensive, or that it necessarily offers a full balance of perspectives. Official sources of information seem to take precedence.

But in lieu of a more detailed content study – which we’re not attempting here – we can say that the story is front and center at The Beijing News. The story that most concerns people right now is the story receiving the most attention.

The same is true if we look at the front page of Guangzhou’s Southern Metropolis Daily today. Sure, official sources dominate here, the focus apparently on reporting the official numbers and official actions being taken. But all of the bold headlines on the front page deal with the coronavirus outbreak.

At The Paper (澎湃), the headlines on the website and news app again focus on the coronavirus outbreak, with scores of stories, national and local, dominating the page, to the point it seems there is no other news to talk about.

But of course there is other “news” to talk about if your point of reference is the burning priorities of the Chinese Communist Party, and not necessarily the issues of clear and present concern to the public.

This most recent infectious disease crisis, with its echoes of SARS, once again exposes the basic nature of China’s Party media outlets, and their interest in “serving the Party” over the public interest – the domination of the “Party nature” (党性) over the “people nature” (人民性), to reference the debate over news values that raged in the late 1980s between then People’s Daily editor in chief Hu Jiwei (胡绩伟), a proponent of liberalization of the press, and the hardliner Hu Qiaomu (胡乔木).

If we look today at central Party media, we can see the Party agenda obliviously playing out right in the midst of this latest health crisis.

At the People’s Daily Online today, the epidemic appears but is pushed down below six other stories of quite questionable news relevance – unless one understands the way CCP leaders define priority and relevance.

The report that gets top billing at the site today is about a gathering yesterday of former senior officials ahead of the Spring Festival. It is essentially just a list of names, including Jiang Zemin, Hu Jintao and Zhu Rongji, that ends with expressions of support for Xi Jinping: “The old comrades expressed their thanks and high assessment of how the Party with Comrade Xi Jinping at its core had led the whole Party, the whole army and all the people’s of the country in realizing historic achievements, and they voiced their heartfelt support for Secretary Xi Jinping as the core of the CCP and of the whole Party.”

Why would such a story be emphasized over a national health crisis? The reason is not necessarily distraction, though the leadership certainly wishes everyone could look away. This story is there to serve the paramount purpose of reiterating Xi Jinping’s power and status, one of the primary roles played by Party media.

Second billing goes to a story about Xi Jinping sending a congratulatory letter to the China-Italy year of culture and tourism in Rome, along with Italian President Sergio Mattarella. Again, there is little real news value for the public, but the chief objective here is to show Xi Jinping engaged internationally. The third story at the top of People’s Daily Online, a report about Xi Jinping’s visit to Myanmar, serves the same purpose, to show Xi as a leader engaged in the region. The report, full of Xi governing concepts, talks of the goal of “opening a new era of community of common destiny between China and Myanmar” (开辟中缅命运共同体的新时代), a reference to one of Xi’s core foreign policy terminologies.

Three more stories follow these, about Wang Yang and religion, about Wang Huning and culture, and about Han Zheng at the World Economic Forum, before we even get to any acknowledgment whatsoever that China is facing a new disease outbreak. 

The first acknowledgment we have is a report about a press conference this morning in Beijing in which Liu Wei (李斌), head of China’s National Health Commission, spoke about the latest situation and the government’s priorities. The second is a commentary in which the writer urges all members of society to consider the common good in light of the epidemic, and not to take actions out of personal interest that risk further spreading disease. The commentary talks about a number of reports that have infuriated some Chinese, like reports that even after the extent of the situation was known tourism authorities in Wuhan had issued 200,000 free travel coupons to tourist sites around the city, effectively encouraging crowds that could further spread the disease.

And what of local Party newspapers and websites?

Here is the front page today of Tianjin Daily, the official mouthpiece of the municipal Party committee there. It is virtually identical to the People’s Daily, first emphasizing next to the masthead Xi Jinping’s visit to Myanmar, then a big headline about Xi visiting Kunming and offering his New Year’s greetings.

Two stories about the coronavirus outbreak are squeezed into the bottom one-fifth of the front page, the first on Xi Jinping’s instructions and the second, quite predictably, about the actions being taken by the top leader of the municipality, Secretary Li Hongzhong (李鸿忠). This is very typical Party treatment, focusing on official actions (and away from details and human stories) with sensitivity to national and local power dynamics. Mention Xi Jinping first, then the local Party leadership.

If we turn to Beijing Daily, the official Party mouthpiece of top Party leaders in the capital city, we can find the most hard-headed example of focus shifting and insensibility among official Party media outlets. The front page of the newspaper today does not deal at all with the coronavirus outbreak.

The top stories in the Beijing Daily are, in order of layout:

  • Xi Jinping’s visit to Myanmar and building of a “community of common destiny”
  • A story (with jump to page three) about Xi Jinping emphasizing a “strong military” during his visit in Yunnan province
  • Xi Jinping’s positive New Year’s message to people during his visit in Yunnan
  • A report about Beijing’s top leader, Cai Qi (蔡奇) meeting with “old comrades”
  • A report about a city-level conference of the Party leadership

One might suggest that Party media at the local and national levels do not have their priorities straight. But these pages are clear declarations of priority, and they point to the very nature of the so-called “Party nature.” It is only that the sense of dissonance becomes more pronounced when the country faces a real and pressing crisis that should dominate the news.

Tracing the “People’s Leader”

Earlier this month, CMP looked at the recent resurgence of “people’s leader,” or renmin lingxiu (人民领袖), in China’s official Party media as a term signaling the strong position of China’s top leader, Xi Jinping. We showed how the term, which first emerged in reference to Xi in April 2017, peaked briefly in the first half of 2018 before waning again – most likely as a reflection of the difficulties facing China in the midst of the trade war with the United States.

Students of Chinese political discourse will know that the term “people’s leader” was used to refer to Mao Zedong, and it still has a strong association with Mao’s rule. But where did the term actually originate in Chinese?

We took a brief jaunt back through available digital media archives to see if we could answer this question, beginning our search in the People’s Daily, which CMP co-director Qian Gang has referred to as the Chinese Communist Party’s “dictionary of red speech” (红色词典). First published on May 15, 1946, the newspaper can provide a fairly clear indication of how and when “people’s leader” was used in the history of the Chinese Communist Party.

In fact, we find that within its first week, on May 20, 1946, the paper published an article in which “people’s leader” appeared.

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The article refers not to Mao Zedong, but to Ulanhu, the Mongolian Communist commander who secured Inner Mongolia for the Chinese Communist Party during the Chinese Civil War, and who during his career was nicknamed the “Mongolian King.” Ulanhu served as China’s vice-premier from 1956 until his purging at the outset of the Cultural Revolution in 1966.

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Mongolian Communist commander Ulanhu. Wikimedia Commons.

In 1946, at the time of the People’s Daily article – which we should remember was more than three years before the founding of the People’s Republic of China – Ulanhu was known by his Chinese name, Yun Ze (云泽). The article reported on the formation of the autonomous regional government, and it called Yun Ze “the Mongolian people’s leader.”

Early uses of the term “people’s leader” in the People’s Daily indicate that its meaning was quite broad. The term could be used to praise figures past and present from all over the world. Among those referred to as the “people’s leader” in those early days, in fact, there was even American president Abraham Lincoln.

In Asia the title was used for Sanzō Nosaka, founder of the Japanese Communist Party, North Korean leader Kim Il-sung, North Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh, and the Mongolian commander Khorloogiin Choibalsan. Europe had its “people’s leaders” as well. There was of course Stalin in the Soviet Union, Bulgarian communist leader Georgi Dimitrov, Poland’s Bolesław Bierut, Czechoslovakia’s Klement Gottwald, and Romania’s Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej.

It is true that “people’s leader” was used most liberally in the history of the People’s Daily to refer to Chairman Mao Zedong, with Marshall Zhu De coming in a distant second. But for Mao Zedong, the terms “people’s leader” and “great leader” (伟大领袖) were both used, and after the founding of the People’s Republic of China, “great leader” was the term most often applied to Mao. In Chinese political rhetoric, there is a greater sense of respect and power vested in “great leader” than in “people’s leader.” So against “great leader,” we find comparatively few references to “people’s leader Mao Zedong” (人民领袖毛泽东).

Before the founding of the PRC, we can find references to Mao as the “people’s leader” in other publications run by the Chinese Communist Party. Below is an article appearing in a magazine published by the Party in Shandong province in 1946, the headline reading: “The People’s Leader Loves Us Deeply.”

In 1948, the official magazine of the Huabei Military Region of the People’s Liberation Army also used the term, with a headline that read: “People’s Leader Chairman Mao.”

We can even find the term appearing in Hong Kong, as in the 1948 article below from the magazine Masses (群众), published in the then British colony by the Chinese Communist Party. “The Great People’s Leader,” the headline reads.

But to see how and when the term “people’s leader” might have entered the Chinese language, we need to go beyond the media and political culture of the Chinese Communist Party. So what about media from Taiwan and the Republican Era?

Looking further afield, we can find articles like this one in the June 3, 1955, edition of Taiwan’s United Daily News, which reports that a number of “anti-communist people’s leaders” had visited Taiwan. This use takes the term out of the revolutionary tradition (with Soviet echoes) of such leaders as Mao Zedong and Ulanhu.

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Looking further back into media of the Republican Era, we can find other examples, like the following one dated to 1948 from Chinese-American Weekly, a magazine sympathetic to the Kuomintang Party that was published in New York. The headline you see in the article below refers to Nationalist military leader Fu Zuoyi as the “people’s leader.”

The Chinese-American Weekly article comes months before Fu’s secret December 1948 negotiations with the CCP.

But the earliest example we could find of “people’s leader” in the Chinese language dates back to August 4, 1934, and appears in Central Daily (中央日报), a Kuomintang-run paper first published in Shanghai in 1924.

The news report that follows comes just three days after the death of German President Paul von Hindenburg, who had been Hitler’s only check on power, and reports that Germany is to hold a national referendum – referring of course to the August 19, 1934, referendum to merge the offices of president and chancellor, which would give Hitler supreme power.

The small headline immediately to the left of the largest headline reads: “Hitler Says He Will Drop Presidential Title and Be Called People’s Leader” (希氏表示废总统称号仅称人民领袖). This title, “people’s leader,” is familiar outside the Chinese language as the German word “Volksführer.”

Shortly after the German referendum, Shanghai’s China Monthly (中华月报) reported the story and published a photograph of Hitler. The caption under the photograph read: “Achieving a decisive victory through referendum on August 19th, German people’s leader and chancellor Hitler.”

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So it seems the earliest references we can find in digitally available Chinese-language media sources to the notion of the “people’s leader” are translations of the German “Volksführer” dating to Hitler’s rise as supreme leader. This is certainly not an etymology China’s present leaders would welcome, particularly given highly sensitive references in the social media space to “Xitler” (习特勒).  

But the end of the digital trail is certainly not the end of the trail. In his study of the vocabulary used to describe authoritarian leaders in the 20th century, Russian historian Boris Kolinitskii noted that Russian lawyer and revolutionary Alexander Kerensky was referred to as “leader of the people” as early as March 1917, predating the personality cults and related vocabularies used for Lenin and Stalin.

In 1918, at a period when Lenin was busy consolidating power with his inner circle of Stalin and Trotsky his close confederates, Russian poet Osip Mandelstam wrote in “Twilight of Freedom“:

Let us praise the momentous burden
that the people’s leader assumes, in tears.
Let us praise the twilight burden of power,
its weight too great to be borne.

Li Yuzhuo (李玉贞), a historian specializing in the Soviet era, wrote for the journal Yanhuang Chunqiu about Yefim Alekseevich Pridvorov (pen name Demyan Bedny), the Soviet poet and satirist, as one of the earliest figures in Soviet literature to “fix the image” of Stalin, and perhaps the first to refer to him as “people’s leader” in the 1920s.

It makes sense that the term “people’s leader” would have currency within the political culture of the Chinese Communist Party as an import from the revolutionary tradition of the Soviet Union. One can imagine there must have been references to the “people’s leader,” drawn from Soviet newspapers and from contemporary literature appearing in Chinese translation in newspapers, magazines and journals in the years around the founding of the CCP in July 1921 — references that were simply beyond our fingertips for this brief search.

In any case, while the term “people’s leader” has appeared in various contexts throughout its history in the Chinese language — even in reference to Abraham Lincoln, various Asian leaders and Republican anti-communists — its century-long association with authoritarianism and the personality cult should be clear. This is the history that rattles the nerves of many Chinese, both inside and outside the Party, who caution that the line was drawn back in 1982 when the Party’s Charter was amended to prohibit personality cults.

We don’t yet know of course whether Xi Jinping will work to further blur the lines, or cross them. For now, it seems, he is attempting to consolidate his image and position around the notion of the “people’s leader,” the term’s history hidden to most. If he can manage to consolidate this position and title, could Xi Jinping reach for greater rhetorical and real heights — like status as “great leader”?

The history of CCP political discourse shows us that titles and honorifics can be difficult to hold.

A quick search of “people’s leader” over the past week suggests Xi might not even be holding this title in the short term. One of the only references to the term in the past week comes from Tianjin, which seems to be one of the most vocal local leaderships in support of Xi. In his speech to the third plenum of the municipality’s 17th local congress, Party Secretary Li Hongzhong (李鸿忠) spoke of “bathing in the warm sunshine of the care of the people’s leader” (沐浴着人民领袖亲切关怀的温暖阳光).

In an era of digital information, how effectively can such echoes of the past century be sold to savvy and often cynical consumers? We shall have to see.

Aristocratic Character?

In recent days in China a buzz of speculation has surrounded an article published on January 10 by the Study Times, a publication of the Central Party School, the training academy for Party leaders. At issue is the suggestion in the article that Xi Jinping, the General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, has “an aristocratic character” (贵族气质). Such language apparently shocked many readers, judging from comments on social media.

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Called “Comrade [Xi] Jinping Stresses that We Must Be People Who Flow With the New Era” (近平同志强调要敢做时代的弄潮人), the article in question was an interview with Lin Bin (林彬), the former deputy head of the government office in the city of Fuzhou, corresponding to Xi Jinping’s time in the leadership there in the early 1990s. Lin is currently the CEO of The Straits Publishing and Distribution Group, a state-run company.

In the interview, Lin relates a story of how several friends, knowing he had served with Xi Jinping in Fujian province, had asked for his impressions of the leader.

I said: “Do you want the long version, or the short version?”

My friends asked: “What’s the short version?”

I said: “The short version is that I can sum up my impression of him in eight words — the feelings of the people, an aristocratic character. I’ll just say that, and you can glean what you will.”

Why would this word, “aristocratic,” cause such a buzz of speculation?

First of all, we have to understand that within the political culture of the Chinese Communist Party, language is not at all flippant or incidental. There is no such thing (not if one is disciplined) as off the cuff, though leaders with sufficient strength might have greater latitude in toying with language – like Mao Zedong and his poetic reference to flatulence. While the Party’s discourse may be fluid to a certain extent, there is an unmistakable orthodoxy, reflected clearly in the Party media and in official documents. Second, we need to understand that the word “aristocrat,” which suggests distance and differentiation from the people, is not a word of praise within CCP discourse.

And so people had to ask: Wasn’t it an act of scarcely veiled criticism for a high-level official to praise Xi Jinping as having an “aristocratic character”?

In Chinese, this question surrounded what we refer to as “high-level black” (高级黑), this being a political term meaning to satirize in a guarded or euphemistic manner, sometimes through overwrought praise. A close cousin of this act of poor discourse discipline is “low-level red” (低级红) – referring essentially to acts of sycophantic ingratiation (to borrow from John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman) that are so overwrought as to become humorous or invite disdain, undermining the Party’s credibility.  

When Chinese in the context of the CCP’s political culture talk about “aristocrats,” this means something very different from the word in a Western context. It is political terminology that is tantamount in most cases to an accusation of “confusion” (混乱), or fundamental problems in attitude or conduct.

Over a century ago, in 1919, 26 year-old Mao Zedong wrote a short essay of around 2,000 characters called “The Great Union of the Masses” (民众的大联合) in which the word “aristocrat” appeared 14 times. “Since ancient times,” he wrote, “there have been various forms of union including the union of those in power, the union of the aristocracy, and the union of capitalists.”

The People’s Daily wrote back in 1966 that: “Chairman Mao published many splendid revolutionary essays in the Jianghu Commentary magazine that he launched and edited in Changsha, and he raised many slogans of struggle and full-fledged revolution about striking down the old world, and making the aristocracy and the capitalists quake before the people.”

If we search back over the 74-year history of the People’s Daily, we can see many different types of “aristocrat”: the “decadent aristocrat” (没落贵族); the “feudal aristocrat” (封建贵族); the “aristocratic landlord class” (地主贵族阶级); the “capitalist aristocrat” (贵族资本家); the “children of aristocracy” (贵族子弟); the “elite aristocrat” (精神贵族); the “imperial aristocracy” (皇室贵族); the “aristocratic class” (贵族阶层); the “aristocratic serf masters” (贵族农奴主); “aristocratization” (贵族化); “aristocratic dictatorship” (贵族专政); the “aristocratic caste system” (贵族等级制度); the “aristocratic hereditary system” (贵族世袭制), and so on.

The bottom line is that none of these are appellations any leader would wish for within the mainstream political discourse of the Chinese Communist Party.

Let’s consider just a couple of examples that were used quite frequently in the history of the CCP. One of the most prominent is “aristocratic grandfather” (贵族老爷), a term that was equivalent in the eyes of the Party to “the exploitative classes” (剥削阶级).

One story in the People’s Daily dating back to October 1979, right as the cusp of the reform era, tells how the military commander Peng Dehuai, known for his spartan style of living, once learned of several villas in a scenic area outside the capital that had been given over to the use of certain senior officials, but sat empty most of the year. After he learned of this, Peng went off in the middle of the night to keep watch over the villas. His personal secretary urged him to get some sleep, but Peng refused. “He ignored him and said to himself, ‘There are those who would have us become aristocratic grandfathers, like ministers serving the monarch. I’m afraid people don’t realize that these are temples built for the new imperial ministers of today!”

Another common term was “aristocratic classes” (贵族阶层). At the Second Plenum of the Eighth Party Congress in 1956, Liu Shaoqi warned: “Given the situation in several socialist countries, it seems national leaders could become a special class, a new aristocratic class.” At the same Party meeting, Mao Zedong said: “We must be alert against fostering a new bureaucracy, a new noble class separated from the people.”

Within the mainstream political discourse, the term “new aristocracy” is often used to refer to the emergence of a new elite class within the CCP owing to problems of corruption, which you can see in the headline of the following People’s Daily article.

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The references above should suffice to show that the “aristocrat” is not a term of praise within the dominant political discourse in China, but rather is quite categorically a word with negative associations. But now, puzzlingly, we have this word being applied to Xi Jinping.

In February 2019, the Central Committee of the CCP issued a “New Opinion on the Strengthening of the Party’s Political Building” (关于加强党的政治建设的意见), which made a point as it elucidated the so-called “Two Protections” (两个维护) – protecting General Secretary Xi Jinping as the “core,” and protecting the unified central authority of the CCP Central Committee – of clarifying several instances of “incorrect language” (错误言行). The document emphasized that, “[Party members] must not engage in any form of ‘low-level red’ or ‘high-level black,’ and absolutely must not act in a two-faced manner toward the Central Committee, engage in double-dealing, or engage in ‘pseudo-loyalty.’”

For leaders inclined to comment on Xi Jinping’s “aristocratic character,” this might be a time for reflection.

Debating China's Historic Wildfire

For months now, fires across Australia have drawn the attention of the world, demanding people sit up and take notice of climate change and ecological crisis as well as hard questions about disaster response and readiness.

Meanwhile, in the Chinese social media space, an article comparing Australia’s unprecedented crisis to a major forest fire that occurred in China in 1987 itself fanned a wildfire over the weekend – raising questions about factual news reporting over self-aggrandizing propaganda.

The article, called “Without this Australian Fire, I Wouldn’t Know the Awesomeness of China 33 Years Ago!” (没有澳洲这场大火,我都不知道中国33年前这么牛逼!), characterized the 1987 Daxing’anling Wildfire, a devastating tragedy that had bitter lessons for China, as a moment of great heroism. All of the failings, pain and loss of the 1987 fire were twisted in the article into evidence of the “awesomeness of China 33 years ago,” contrasted with the supposed incompetence of the Australian government.

An excerpt of the article on WeChat criticizing Australia’s response to recent wildfires, and praising China: “Perhaps certain countries are more developed and more advanced than we are in certain areas. But I don’t see in them the responsibility and action that a country should have. They say pretty things about ‘freedom and democracy,’ but they do nothing about refugees.”

Despite the distressing level of ignorance the article showed toward history, it quickly attracted more than 100,000 views, and an image from the backend of the WeChat platform shared in private chat groups showed that by Sunday afternoon the article had been read 23 million times, and “liked” 300,000 times. These numbers are still climbing.

As a researcher of journalism and mass communication, I am familiar with the 1987 Daxing’anling Wildfire because the reporting of this story was a major event in Chinese media history. I still remember sitting in a classroom at Peking University and listening to news editors who had been involved in the story discussing the event.

A Human Disaster

On May 6, 1987, Daxing’anling prefecture in China’s northeastern Heilongjiang province experienced the most serious large-scale forest fire in the history of the People’s Republic of China. The fire raged for close to a month, swallowing up more than a million hectares of forest, a fifth of the total forest area in the prefecture. Close to 200 lives were lost in the fires, and more than 50,000 people were displaced.

On May 14, after the fire had raged for a week, the China Youth Daily newspaper sent a reporters to the scene to report the story. China Youth Daily, a paper published by the Chinese Communist Youth League, had substantial credibility and influence at the time. Before the paper’s journalists set out for Heilongjiang, they made a solemn promise to themselves: “We must remember not to take this tragic song and sing it as a hymn of praise!”

Why would they make such a promise? The reason, as the newspaper later made clear in its own summary of its reports, was that up to that time disaster reporting in China had been all about “handling funerals as happy events, greeting small misfortunes with small hymns, and treating major tragedies and great victories.”

“In the magical writings of journalists, the catastrophe often becomes a triumph of communism,” they wrote. “This was at the time the entrenched way of doing things in disaster reporting.”

But in the new climate of reform and opening, as respect grew for the value of factual reporting, a number of aspiring professional journalists were unsatisfied with this way of working. Yang Lang (杨浪), the domestic affairs editor at China Youth Daily responsible for the Daxing’anling reports, said at the time: “Everyone recognizes that a disaster is a disaster. Turning a disaster into a triumphal hymn is heaping disaster on top of disaster.”

Following these principles, journalists on the front lines in Daxing’anling went in search of the facts and tried to report the truth. Through the reports they filed, we saw clearly that the origin and spread of the fires had much to do with local officials and with bureaucratic work styles. We saw how local country leaders in the area of the fire had sent out truckloads of people to sweep and tidy up the streets to ready them for visiting officials from Beijing, even as the fires were raging. We even saw, amid the rubble of the county seat of Mohe, a single red-brick building standing alone, miraculously saved from the devastation. This was the home of the county chief and the fire department head, and local residents had told reporters that the home had been spared because the fire department head had dispatched fire trucks and a bulldozer to the scene to protect it.

These reports, the newspaper said in its own assessment, relayed to the public with a deafening sound that this was not just a natural disaster but a human disaster (人祸). “This is us—our severe bureaucratism and our rigid system have made us bureaucratic. Even as we are spared, this fire consumes us.”

The China Youth Daily series contained three reports in all. The headlines were: “The Red Warning” (红色的警告); “The Black Sigh” (黑色的咏叹); and “The Green Sorrow” (绿色的悲哀). People referred to the series at the time as the “three color reports” (三色报道). They were widely praised, and they earned the newspaper a special award that year for best national news reporting.

“The Black Sigh,” one of three reports put out by China Youth Daily on the Heilongjiang wildfires in 1987.

One reader in Hubei province wrote a letter to China Youth Daily saying: “In the past, I always thought that journalists in our country were just in the business of pretending everything is fine, but after reading these reports I strongly feel you reporters are worthy soldiers of our times.”

In Chinese media history, the “three color reports” occupy an extremely important position. They are a milestone in disaster reporting, marking the return of disaster reports to the plane of factual reporting, respecting news values.

In fact, China Youth Daily was not the only newspaper at the time to report the Daxing’anling fire in a new spirit of thoughtfulness. Even the Party’s official People’s Daily published reports of this kind. As veteran People’s Daily journalist Zhu Huaxin (祝华新) has recalled, “the People’s Daily published 64 consecutive news reports and commentaries [on the fire], and within one month 22 news articles on the fire appeared on the front page.”

One of these reports directly questioned the idea that the disaster had been inevitable: “Many facts suggest that the fire was not a natural disaster whose containment was beyond our powers, and that this terrible, heart-wrenching misfortune should not have happened; or if it indeed it had to happen, it should not have resulted in such calamitous losses.”

The People’s Daily also addressed the question of the red-brick house belonging to the country chief and the fire department head. Journalist Wei Yanan (魏亚南) filled in a key detail of this story – that two homes to the right and left of the chief’s red-brick house had been demolished in order to help protect it.

A disaster is a disaster, as Yang Liang said. And turning a disaster into a hymn of praise is heaping disaster on top of disaster.

Reporting Against the Odds

Under the circumstances of that time in China, it was not easy to make breakthroughs in reporting. While there was talk of the need for liberation of thought, there were also of course very real restrictions and difficulties to work through for news media.

Jia Yong (贾永), a journalist who took part in reporting at the time as an intern at China Youth Daily, later continued to work as a journalist, serving for a time as director of the People’s Liberation Army desk at the official Xinhua News Agency. He later said in a piece looking back on the Daxing’anling fire that in fact the whole reporting process was extremely difficult, because many local leaders and offices worked with a “news control” mentality.

But the China Youth Daily reporters did not give up in the face of these restrictions. “With the exception of Lei Shumai (雷收麦), who was almost 40, the other three of us were young, had experience reporting through adversity on the front lines, and we were up to the challenge,” Jia Yong said. “We worked hard and with full confidence to get first-hand materials – at the scene of the fire, at the cemeteries, in the ruins, from local broadcasters, hose operators, bulldozer operators. During the day we toughened our skins and visited local government offices, and at night we were together with those who had been displaced by the disaster, sleeping together in cold tents with 40 or more people.”

Jia Yong said they felt they had to face danger and difficulty to get to the story “in order to protect the people’s right to know about this major event.” And their efforts were repaid: “More and more affected people who at first did not dare voice their anger opened up to us and told us the real situation,” he said.

Ye Yan  (叶研), a reporter who later won China’s Fan Changjiang News Award, recalled that he had photographed a group of people at a local dining hall eating a meal together, and as a result was stopped in the road by a group of about 20 officials, including the head of the tourism office. He and several other reporters we set on and beaten by the group. “It was nothing for them to attack people,” he said. “And we were taken in by the Public Security Bureau for two days of questioning.”

After more than a month in Heilongjiang, the journalists returned to the newsroom to write their stories. This was at the height of the hot summer in Beijing, and an article in China Youth Daily later recalled the lengths the reporters had gone to to finish their stories. “Lei Shumai and Jia Yong were living in an underground room near the China Youth Daily newsroom that cost 35 cents a night, and together they consumed 40 bags of instant noodles. To make sure they didn’t have stomach problems, Jia Yong used a grain coupon to buy five kilograms of garlic.”

Twisted Histories

The WeChat public account that ran “Without this Australian Fire, I Wouldn’t Know the Awesomeness of China 33 Years Ago!” this past week is called “Youth Courtyard” (青年大院). In fact, this is the new name for an account that was previously shut down on the platform.

If we click into the “Youth Courtyard” account and go into the information section, we can see that the operator is “Beijing Fuguang Yuejin Cuture and Media Company Limited” (北京浮光跃金文化传媒有限公司). And when we click the name of this company we find that the account is the new name for the previous account “90s Tonight” (今夜90后). In fact, it does not really hide this fact. In fact, at  the top of the article itself and in the subhead, you can clearly see mention of “90’s Tonight.”

Screenshot of the “90s Tonight” public account article praising China’s handling of wildfires in Heilongjiang province in 1987 and criticizing Australia and the West.

For some readers, this may not ring a bell. Others will know that “90s Tonight” is the same outfit that published another controversial article in 2018 about teen idol Yang Chaoyue (杨超越) that drew over 100,000 reads, and later faced accusations of fabrication along with a detailed analysis from Newslab.

Later, this same public account  ran an article with the headline, “That 17 Year-Old Shanghai Youth Decided to Commit Suicide by Jumping off the Bridge” (那个17岁的上海少年决定跳桥自杀), in which it engaged in pure speculation about the facts behind the suicide in April of a teenager who jumped from the Lupu Bridge. The public account was subsequently shut down.

Searching job search websites we can see that this company behind “90s Tonight” proudly declaring recently that it is “starting up again as a completely new public account.” But while the account is a new one, it seems that the tactics and flavor are the same ones we are familiar with.

What should particularly distress us all is to see that this attitude of “greeting small misfortunes with small hymns, and treating major tragedies and great victories,” which was rejected by Chinese journalists 33 years ago, is now, in the traffic-oriented social media environment of the 21st century, being plucked off the garbage heap of history by this “90s Tonight” public account.

To the team behind “90s Tonight,” I wish to say: The professionalism with which journalists like Yang Lang, Lei Shumai, Li Weizhong, Ye Yan, Jia Yong, Wei Yanan and others worked to dig out the facts and get at the truth, exposing our maladies – therein lies the true awesomeness of what happened 33 years ago. And to employ cheap emotional language to cynically draw traffic is a most irresponsible exploitation of that tragedy.

The "People's Leader" Rises Again

On August 25, 2019, the official People’s Daily newspaper ran a bold headline on the front page that included a term that caused some observers to sit up and take notice. “The people’s leader loves the people,” the headline read.

The term “people’s leader” is a rare title of praise  in China’s political discourse, reminiscent of the personality cult that prevailed during the Mao Zedong era, and its re-emergence was rightly read by many as a further aggrandizing of Xi Jinping. The appellation was apparently greenlighted by the Chinese Communist Party at a conclave in Beidaihe that same month.

Interest in Xi’s latest title, used again at a meeting of the elite Politburo last month, has persisted. Just this week, the Straits Times noted that use of the term “shows President Xi’s firm grip on power despite a challenging past year.”

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The reference to Xi Jinping as the “people’s leader” first came about six months after Xi Jinping was designated as the “core” in October 2016. In reporting on an internal CCP study campaign on April 17, 2017, the People’s Daily said that the curriculum focused on “looking back on the resolute and core role of the people’s leader for our Party at important historical moments, leading everyone to build a solid foundation of loyalty and maintain the core.”

In October 2017, right around the 19th National Congress of the CCP, Party media began using a new phrase to describe Xi, who was formally given a second term as general secretary. He was referred to as “the core of the Party, commander of the army and people’s leader” (党的核心,军队统帅,人民领袖). In the run-up to the congress, some local leaders in China, considering and calculating their own political futures, made declarations of fealty to Xi that were fawning in a way reminiscent of the Mao era, and quite out of keeping with language in the CCP charter about avoiding cults of personality.

Rumors circulated at that time that the central authorities had issued guidelines to caution against acts of excessive praise, and on November 1, 2017, the CCP released a “Decision” outlining three phrases that were acceptable when it came to signaling Xi’s preeminence and  stroking his ego. These were: “Loved by the entire Party” (全党拥护), “loved and respected by the people” (人民爱戴) and “full worthy and deserving [of core leadership status]” (当之无愧).

After a local Party newspaper in Guizhou province, Qianxinan Daily, referred to Xi Jinping as “great leader,” or weida lingxiu (伟大领袖), on its front page on November 10, 2017, the digital version of the newspaper was doctored to remove the page – a sign that the central leadership was still wary of seeming excessive or premature.

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As I said before, the term “people’s leader” to refer to Xi Jinping actually emerged in April 2017, but such elevated praise was more cautious and exploratory, the 19th National Congress and its internal power-brokering almost certainly playing an important role behind the scenes. But by the end of 2017 and through to February-March 2018, Xi seemed to be in a strong position, his unwieldy banner term, “Xi Jinping thought on socialism with Chinese characteristics for the new era” having been written into the Party charter and set to be added to the preamble of the state constitution, along with an amendment on presidential term limits. The inclusion of Xi’s name in his banner term was a clear political victory not achieved by any leader since Mao and Deng.

In January 2018, the term “peoples leader,” or renmin lingxiu, re-emerged, as though Xi and his allies apparently saw an opening. The Global Times reported that month that this was “the first time for People’s Daily to refer to Xi as lingxiu,” an act it referred to as “swearing allegiance” to Xi. This was not entirely accurate, as we have seen, but perhaps there was a feeling that the term had come out of hibernation.

As the March National People’s Congress drew nearer, many headlines appeared in newspapers across the country referring to Xi as the “people’s leader.” These often occurred within the phrase “the people’s leader is loved by the people” (人民领袖人民爱).

But the climate was about to shift. By late March 2018, warm relations between the US and China, trailing in the wake of President Trump’s November 2017 state visit to China, were rapidly chilling. On March 22, President Trump signed a memorandum directing a series of tariffs and restrictions against China. The ensuing trade war was a shock to China’s political system, and internal fault lines could be glimpsed as propaganda officials made some attempts to calm a rising national exuberance, much of it focused on the personality of Xi, that risked becoming insensate arrogance.

By the second half of 2018, the brakes were clearly being applied. We find a unmistakable drop in use of phrases like “core of the Party, commander of the army, people’s leader.” Looking at the People’s Daily alone, we can note that 47 articles in 2018 made use of “people’s leader,” most of these clustered in the first quarter, ahead of the NPC. In 2019, use of the term was halved to 23 articles. But if we look more broadly at use of the term in newspapers across the country,  based on the QianFang database, the fall is much more obvious, 2018 forming an abrupt peak, following by a precipitous decline.

Why then did the use of “people’s leader” in the People’s Daily cause such a wave of interest and speculation on August 25 last year? The reason is that the term appeared in a prominent headline on the front page of the newspaper, right under the masthead. This was in fact the first time it had appeared in a headline, and it seemed a visual declaration of intent, a sign that Xi and those close to him were once again ready to test the waters.

Last month, the Politburo held a special conference on “democratic life” that gave us a further glimpse of recent shifts in the discourse of praise. How the conference promoted democracy is unclear, but the following passage from an article appearing in the People’s Daily on December 28, 2019, elucidates the true purpose of the meeting:

The conference emphasized that protecting General Secretary Xi Jinping’s status as the core of the central Party, and the core of the whole Party, and protecting the Party’s centralized authority and unified leadership, is the fundamental political guarantee of the steady and forward development of socialism with Chinese characteristics in the new era.

The article spoke of the need to address “major tasks,” about facing a “great struggle of historical character,” and so on. But perhaps most importantly, it said that “General Secretary Xi Jinping is looking ahead,” while “evincing the firm idealism and faith of a Party member, and the deep feelings for the people of a people’s leader.”

Is this the start of a new round of worshipful praise for China’s top leader? Yes, possibly. But we must continue to observe the development of this term “people’s leader.” It is quite possible that in 2020 it will experience a notable rise, which of course would be reflective of Xi’s further consolidation of power and strengthening of his position.

Mass Line Internet Control

On December 20, 2019, the Cyberspace Administration of China, the country’s top body for internet control and regulation, released new rules governing online information, setting out both generally encouraged content types and content that would be regarded as unacceptable — and making clear that all members of Chinese society have a responsibility to take part in internet governance.

The “Provisions on the Governance of the Online Information Content Ecosystem” (网络信息内容生态治理规定), available in translation at China Law Translate, were released in draft form back in September as the CAC formally solicited feedback on the regulations from other departments and the public. The final regulations show little substantive change based on a comparison of the texts, although fines for serious content violations that were specified in the draft version at “100,000 yuan or above, not exceeding 500,000 yuan” were apparently removed in the final version, leaving the question of fines ambiguous.

A reading of the new regulations posted during the draft phase in September by the news app of China Youth Daily, a newspaper published by the Communist Youth League, said one of the most notable aspects of the new approach in the draft was the “diversification of the agents of internet ecology governance” (网络生态治理主体的多元化). The post suggested the new approach amounted to a “collaborative governance model” (协同共治的治理模式), and that the process of internet governance “needs to break through the dominant oppositional and singular model of opposition between the market and the government.”

Internet governance, in other words, is a process that should include all aspects of society, focusing the energies of more diverse parties on achieving the information control objectives of the Chinese Communist Party. All of this is very much in keeping with Xi Jinping’s interest in reviving the notion of the “mass line” in social governance, and his emphasis on Mao-era approaches such as the so-called “Fengqiao experience,” which the official Xinhua News Agency touted as a Xi interest as late as November.  

Article Two of the new regulation states clearly that “governance of the online information content ecosystem” as stipulated in the document refers to a range of actions, including deletion of “illegal and harmful information,” carried out by “the government, enterprises, society, internet users and others.”

The “Provisions” also reflect this mass line participatory approach to control in defining not just areas of prohibition, but information content to be encouraged. While news and propaganda policy language in the past – particularly in the Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao eras – would often refer to “emphasizing positive propaganda” (正面宣传为主) as a duty of the news media, the nature of such propaganda was generally not made explicit – and this was the prerogative of the media as the front line in maintaining “correct guidance of public opinion,” not of broader society. By contrast, Article 5 of the new regulations defines 7 points of “encouragement” for “producers of online information content” (网络信息内容生产者), which can be defined quite broadly in the world of interactive digital media, where the line between producer and consumer is blurred:

  • Propagating Xi Jinping Though on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era; comprehensive, accurate and vivid interpretation of the path, theories, system and culture of socialism with Chinese characteristics.
  • Propagating the Party’s theoretical line, policies, and major central decisions.
  • Displaying the highlights of economic and social development, reflecting the great struggle and fiery life of the people.
  • Carrying forward socialist core values, publicizing the outstanding moral culture and the spirit of the times, and fully demonstrating the uplifting spirit of the Chinese nation.
  • Effectively responding to social concerns, solving doubts, clarifying matters, and assisting with the formation of mass consensus.
  • Increasing the international influence of Chinese culture, showing the world a true and comprehensive China.
  • Other content dealing with proper taste, responsibility, encouraging truth and beauty, and promoting solidarity and stability.

In a December interview, an unnamed official at the CAC said that the new regulations served to clarify for “producers of online information content” the nature of “positive energy” (正能量), or content deemed to advance the social and policy goals of the CCP. The official said: “The regulations clarify the concrete scope of positive energy information, illegal information and harmful information. They encourage producers of online information content to produce, copy and distribute information with positive energy content.”

China's Political Discourse in 2019

In 2019, the most important change we saw in the political discourse of the Chinese Communist Party was the complete abandonment of the phrase “political system reform,” or zhengzhi tizhi gaige (政治体制改革). The process of political reform in China was jump-started in the 1980s by Deng Xiaoping (邓小平), Hu Yaobang (胡耀邦) and Zhao Ziyang (赵紫阳) between 1986 and 1988, and during this period the term “political system reform” actually became what we label a “hot” (热) phrase within the discourse heat scale I have developed with the discourse analysis team at the China Media Project.

The political reform wave – speaking here from a discourse standpoint – culminated with the first ever inclusion of the phrase “political system reform” in the political report to the 13th National Congress of the CCP in 1987. But ever since that time, we can say that the phrase has sputtered and sizzled, fading and returning, as it has progressively cooled within the overall discourse environment.

Since the 18th National Congress in 2012, which marked Xi Jinping’s rise to power, use of the phrase “political system reform,” already rare enough, has dropped off dramatically. And we now can say with some confidence that we are seeing the complete elimination of the term, a trend we noted at CMP back in October.

Below I’ll provide just a quick summary in English of the trends we saw in the Chinese political discourse in 2019, and then look at the key words used to discuss the economy and what these reveal about anxieties in the leadership. For our full discourse report, I refer readers to the Chinese-language version, which I’ve included in full further down.

The Blazing and the Red Hot

Using the index of political discourse terminologies and their “temperature” as developed by the China Media Project on the basis of frequency of use in the CCP’s official People’s Daily newspaper, we can note that in 2019 the following phrases stood out either for their intensity of use (“blazing” and “red hot” being the strongest intensities) or for their shift in temperature within the index.

Source: People’s Daily Full Database.

Compared to our study of discourse for 2018, the overall position of these terms and phrases shows little change. At the top of the chart, the biggest difference is that two of the four terms in the “blazing” category last year – namely, “19th National Congress” and “Xi Jinping thought on socialism with Chinese characteristics for the New Era” – have dropped into the “red hot” category for 2019. The Belt and Road Initiative and “reform and opening” top the charts this year, showing the greatest intensity of use in the People’s Daily on a per article basis.

In the “red hot” category, meanwhile, we have two new additions this year. These are the “two protections,” essentially protecting Xi as the “core” of the Party leadership and protecting the Party’s unified leadership, and that stay-the-course phrase so common this year, “not forgetting the original intention, holding to the mission.”

In 2018, the “two protections” joined the “four consciousnesses” and the “four confidences” to become standard phrases (规范用语) in the Party press. “Not forgetting the original intention, holding to the mission,” a phrase introduced during the 19th National Congress of the CCP in October 2017, became a “hot” phrase in 2018, rising in use in the People’s Daily. In 2019, the phrase rose further, entering the “red hot” category. The term “good governance” (善治), rose two levels in 2019, from “warm” to “red hot”.

In 2019, we have a handful of phrases that appeared in the “red hot” category in 2018 that dropped down to “hot.” These include the “village revival strategy” (乡村振兴战略), “innovation-driven” (创新驱动) and “administration in accord with the law” (依法治国).

Among the “cold” terms in 2019, we find “political civilization” (dropping two levels from “warm”), “ruling the nation in accord with the constitution” (dropping two levels from “warm”), “authority of constitutional law” (dropping two levels from “warm”), and “full accounting of power/responsibility” (dropping two levels from “warm”).

One result that may surprise, given official propaganda over perceived foreign meddling in Hong Kong, is that the phrase “hostile forces” (敌对势力) remained in the “cold” category in 2019. But this does not necessarily mean a drop in the use of related phrases, and in fact in the second half of the year we see a marked rise in these use of the term “external forces” (外部势力), which brought the term into the “hot” category.

The Economy

What does the political discourse in 2019 tell us about the economic situation?

In 2019, we saw a dramatic rise in use of the phrase “steady improvement, long-term improvement” (稳中向好, 长期向好) in the official discourse, and broadly used across Chinese newspapers, based on our search of the  – an indication that the authorities are keen to send a message that all is well.

But if we look beyond the Party-run newspapers and digital outlets, we see other indicators of economic concern. Here, for example, we see the dramatic rise in 2019 of the word “pig” in news headlines, reflecting the nationwide crisis over pork prices.

The increase in coverage seen in the above graph is driven by news about pork prices and supply shortages. While this is just one factor within the overall economy, it was without a doubt a source of anxiety for the leadership and a factor that undermined the sense that all was “steady” and “improving.”  

When we look at the economic picture in China after the 19th National Congress in 2017, we can observe the term “economic downturn” (下行压力). This term experienced a peak back in 2015 but later declined. Here is how the term has looked in Chinese newspapers over the past three years.

At the end of every year, the CCP’s Central Committee holds an important economic work conference that sends signals about economic sentiment and policy, though the language often requires a great deal of reading between the lines. Since 2012 there have been eight such work conferences, and here is the key language emerging from each, reflected in the official discourse played across Party media.

2012: “comprehensive deepening of economic system reforms” (全面深化经济体制改革)

2013: “keeping steady” (稳中求进)

2014: “new normal” (新常态)

2015: “supply-side” (供给侧)

2016: “new development concept” (新发展理念)

2017: “preventing and solving major risks” (防范化解重大风险)

2018: “steady employment, steady finance, steady foreign trade, steady investment, steady expectations” (稳就业、稳金融、稳外贸、稳外资、稳投资、稳预期) / “Six Steadies” (六稳)

2019: “Putting ‘steady’ first” (稳字当头)

When we review these eight terms we can note the diminishing sense of optimism over time, and a rising sense of crisis that is understated in the official discourse. “A new normal for the Chinese economy” was a phrase introduced when GDP growth in China was falling below the 8 percent level, the goal being to habituate Chinese to the idea that GDP growth between 7 and 8 percent was acceptable. The phrase “supply-side structural reforms,” meanwhile, was a way of coping with continued weakness, the goal being to regain momentum. Both “new normal” and “supply-side” rose rapidly to become “red hot” terms after their introduction. But in 2019, we have seen signs of fatigue for both terms when we look at use within the official People’s Daily on a per-article basis.

In 2019, we see “supply-side” maintaining its “red hot” status, but with significantly diminished use in the People’s Daily, about half the level of use recorded for 2017. The “new normal,” meanwhile, drops down to the “warm” category, understandable considering that the 7-8 percent GDP growth level it pointed to is no longer sustainable.

On October 19, 2019, the National Bureau of Statistics released the latest GDP estimates, which drew a great deal of attention globally. GDP growth came in at what Deutsche Welle and other news outlets referred to as an “underwhelming” 6 percent for the quarter.

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China’s economy currently faces a downturn unlike anything it has faced in the past several decades. We now see the term “Six Steadies” (六稳) being used as a provisional response to this weakness – the next conditioning of the public to lower expectations. The goal now, in other words, is holding the line in terms of employment, investment and  so on. Use of the term “Six Steadies” was 2.8 times higher in Chinese newspapers in 2019 (based on the Qianfang database) than in 2018.

Among the six priorities outlined in the “Six Steadies” formula, we saw “steady expectations” leading in 2018. In 2019, the clear priority seems to be “steady employment,” which shows quite a dramatic rise over the past two years.  

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图片包含 屏幕截图
描述已自动生成

The release just last month by the State Council of “Opinions Concerning Further Stabilizing Employment Work” (关于进一步做好稳就业工作的意见) can be read as a further sign of just how serious the issue of employment has become for the leadership.

The announcement of the State Council document took prime position in the People’s Daily on Christmas Day, appearing right next to the newspaper’s masthead.

The full text in Chinese of our 2019 political discourse report is included below, including a discussion of what I call the “442 Formula,” referring to the “Four Consciousnesses,” “Four Confidences” and “Two Protects,” which warmed up toward the end of the year, along with increased talk of Xi Jinping as the “people’s leader” (人民领袖) — a direct result of the reformulating of the “442” formula.

You will also find a more in-depth discussion of the phrase “political system reforms,” which as I said at the outset seems very much to be on its way out.

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中国语象2019

钱 钢

2019,中国政治最重要的话语现象,是有40年历史的“政治体制改革”被停用。中国政改由邓小平、胡耀邦、赵紫阳启动,1986、1987、1988三年,该语在人民日报的语温达到“热”级,成为1987年中共13大的主题。之后趋冷,18大后词频速降,直至从体制改革话语体系中被正式剔除。

沸语烫词

使用中国传(CMP)媒研究计划的中国党媒语温方法观测,2019人民日报上主要政治语汇的语温如图:

和2018相比,总格局变化不大。2019的沸级词语有两个:“一带一路”,“改革开放”。2018四个沸词中的另两个,“十九大”和“习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想”,2019降为烫级。

2019的烫词,新增了“两个维护”和“不忘初心,牢记使命”。“两个维护”,2018年秋和“四个意识”、“四个自信”一起成为党报规范用语。“不忘初心,牢记使命”是2018年热语,2019随着同名教育活动在中共全党展开,升级为烫。

2019,从2018烫词中下降一级转为热词的有“乡村振兴战略”、“创新驱动”和“依法治国”。

2019新增冷词有:“政治文明”(从暖降两级)、“依宪治国”(从暖降两级)、“宪法权威”(从暖降两级)、“权利清单/责任清单”(从暖降两级)。

“敌对势力”是2019冷词,这不意味着此类表述减少。2019有另一个同义词“外部势力”,下半年被频繁使用,年度语温为热。

观语经济

2019,中国经济怎么样?请看语象:

中国经济“稳中向好、长期向好”的语词频率,2019飙升。这是当局的描述。国民生活感受中,另有一字飙升:

这个上行趋势由负面消息拉动。猪肉市场的震荡,虽是经济运行个别事件,但无疑是2019年政府的一块心病,拆了“稳”与“好”的台。

判断中共19大后的宏观经济形势,可以观测关键词“下行压力”。这个词语在2015年曾出现传播高峰,后滑落,最近3年的变动趋势如图:

每年年底的中央经济工作会议,均有重要信息。2012以来,8次会议的关键词语是:

2012:“全面深化经济体制改革”;

2013:“稳中求进”;

2014:“新常态”;

2015:“供给侧”;

2016:“新发展理念”;

2017:“防范化解重大风险”;

2018:“稳就业、稳金融、稳外贸、稳外资、稳投资、稳预期”(简称“六稳”);

2019:“稳字当头”;

纵观8次会议,乐观情绪逐年降低,危机感递增。“中国经济新常态”是在GDP落到8%以下时提出的,意在使国人接受7%-8%增长的现实;“供给侧结构性改革”,是振衰起弊的应对之道,试图重拾动力。“新常态”和“供给侧”,提出后皆成党媒烫词。但2019的传播显出疲态:

2019,引领中国经济的两个重要关键词,“供给侧”还维持烫级,但比2017减少了一半传播量;因为7%-8%的经济“新常态”已经改变,“新常态”落到暖,接近冷。

2019年10月19日,国家统计局公布第三季度GDP核算结果,引起世界关注:

中国经济面临空前的下行压力。“六稳”是应急反应。2019,中国报纸上使用“稳就业,稳预期,稳投资,稳外贸,稳外资,稳金融”的文章篇数是2018的2.8倍。

“六稳”的排序,2018“稳预期”为首,2019首位是“稳就业”,该词频率连年上升。

2019年年底,国务院印发《关于进一步做好稳就业工作的意见》,可见就业问题的严峻。

值得注意的是,“六稳”中“稳金融”殿后,可印证下面的曲线:

这有可能从一个侧面说明金融改革的效果。“金融供给侧结构性改革”一语,2019有较大力度的传播:

    中国正从科技创新中寻找经济发展的新动能。笔者关注2015以来的3个关键词:“量子通信”、“5G”、“区块链”,发现“量子通信”的传播在2017登峰后降温,“5G”和“区块链”连年上升,2019,“5G”甚至有大跃进之势。

首秀和剧终

2019,中国政治词典增加了许多新语句,它们的首秀,在19届4中全会。包括:

“中国特色社会主义制度的根本制度、基本制度、重要制度”;

“到我们党成立一百年时,在各方面制度更加成熟更加定型上取得明显成效;到二〇三五年,各方面制度更加完善,基本实现国家治理体系和治理能力现代化;到新中国成立一百年时,全面实现国家治理体系和治理能力现代化”;

“健全总揽全局、协调各方的党的领导制度体系”;

“建立不忘初心、牢记使命的制度”;

“完善坚定维护党中央权威和集中统一领导的各项制度”;

“健全党的全面领导制度”;

“健全提高党的执政能力和领导水平制度”;

“坚持马克思主义在意识形态领域指导地位的根本制度”;

“党委领导、政府负责、民主协商、社会协同、公众参与、法治保障、科技支撑的社会治理体系”;

“建立健全特别行政区维护国家安全的法律制度和执行机制”。

笔者用语象方法分析19届4中全会通过的1.8万字的《中共中央关于坚持和完善中国特色社会主义制度 推进国家治理体系和治理能力现代化若干重大问题的决定》,发现一个重要的词语已经寿终正寝:“政治体制改革”。

中共19届4中全会的核心议题是制度。决定用了“国家制度”、“党的领导制度”、“国家治理体系”等词语来表述制度。决定提到的制度,虽然从政治、经济、文化到社会、民生、生态包罗万象,但核心是政治制度。决定所说的“坚持党的领导、人民当家作主、依法治国有机统一”是中共使用多年的术语,原本是对政治体制改革的规范性要求。决定第二、三、四条提出的“坚持和完善党的领导制度体系,提高党科学执政、民主执政、依法执政水平”、“ 坚持和完善人民当家作主制度体系,发展社会主义民主政治”和“坚持和完善中国特色社会主义法治体系,提高党依法治国、依法执政能力”,即上述的“三者有机统一”。

然而,全文没有“政治体制改革”一词。

我们可以对比18大以来的几个重要讲话和文件:1,2013年18届3中全会通过的中共中央关于全面深化改革若干重大问题的决定》。2,2017习近平19大报告。3,2018年12月18日习近平《在庆祝改革开放40周年大会上的讲话》。这三个文本,均使用了“政治体制改革”一语。

从19届4中全会的议题和“决定”的论述重点看,“政治体制改革”原本无法回避。整个决定文本中,“改革”一词出现了27次,其中有5个“体制改革”: 行政执法体制改革、文化体制改革、医药卫生体制改革、国防动员体制改革、纪检监察体制改革。这么多的“改革”和“体制改革”,为什么偏偏遗漏了“政治体制改革”?

这只能说明,这个词语在“习近平新时代”已不合时宜,中共已决心弃用(不排除日后在历史叙述时少量出现)。

从1985到2019,“政治体制改革”在人民日报上留下的印记如图:

词语如有墓碑,可将此图勒石。

“442”跟进

2018上半年,赞颂领导人的标配语“全党拥护,人民爱戴,当之无愧”(以及“忠诚核心,拥护核心,维护核心,捍卫核心”和“党的核心,军队统帅,人民领袖”)被调控降温,代之而起,是年底前升温的“增强‘四个意识’、坚定‘四个自信’、做到‘两个维护’”,笔者简称“442”。2019,人民日报上该语温度为烫。

    观察2019各季度中国报纸和各月人民日报,可以看到“442”的传播有“两头高,中间低”的现象。人民日报显示,年底对“422”发动了新的宣传攻势。

“442”,重点是“2”;“2”,重点是“维护习……地位”。“维护”的反面容易理解,然而,2019年初,中共中央发布“关于加强党的政治建设的意见”,在专门论述“两个维护”时指出了另一种“错误言行”。它强调:“不得搞任何形式的‘低级红’、‘高级黑’,决不允许对党中央阳奉阴违做两面人、搞两面派、搞‘伪忠诚’”(人民日报2019.2.28)。

“低级红、高级黑”,恐令大批官员尴尬。“意见”发布后,截至2019年底,人民日报仅2篇文章使用这个词语。网络上有对“高黑低红”的批评,不过只是列举了先进人物宣传中的夸张现象(如宣传一位女干警为加班“28天不洗头不换衣”、“扶贫干部和女贫困户结婚”等),和“两个维护”扯不上关系。

和2018相比,2019人民日报对领袖的宣传明显谨慎。最接近2018上半年“标配语”的是下面作者署名“宣言”的这段话:

坚定的理想信念,高超的政治智慧,“以身许党许国”的担当,“我将无我,不负人民”的赤诚……在“四个伟大”的壮阔实践中,习近平总书记成为党的核心、人民领袖,众望所归,当之无愧。认定主心骨、压舱石、定盘星,坚持统一思想、统一意志、步调一致,面对再大的惊涛骇浪,我们都能从容不迫,自信坚定。(人民日报,2019.9.28)

地方党媒和军报对“442”尤其是“2”各有发挥,如:

“忠诚核心、维护核心、看齐核心、追随核心”(重庆,2019.11.22,武隆报)。

“将维护核心、拥戴核心、追随核心内化于心、外化于行”( 江西,2019.11.22,赣南日报)。

“把拥戴核心、追随核心作为最大的政治。同心共向、同频共振、同轴共转”(山西,2019.10.29,潞城新闻)。

“政治上坚定拥护核心、思想上高度认同核心、行动上坚决追随核心、组织上自觉维护核心、情感上衷心爱戴核心”(四川,2019.2.15,凉山日报)。

“一切重大事项由习主席决定、一切工作对习主席负责、一切行动听习主席指挥”,“做到习主席提倡的坚决响应、习主席决定的坚决执行、习主席禁止的坚决不做”(2019.3.12,解放军报)。

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西藏编印了《习近平总书记重要论述100句》《习近平总书记经典语句摘编》等藏汉双语学习资料,“引导农牧民群众‘村规民约用语录、化解矛盾服语录、生产生活依语录、乡村振兴靠语录’,让习近平总书记人民领袖的光辉形象根植各族群众内心深处”(西藏日报,2019.11.3)。

“两个维护”是中国最大的政治。中央政治局委员、中办主任丁薛祥在四中全会后撰文称:

“两个维护”有明确的内涵和要求,维护习近平总书记核心地位,对象是习近平总书记而不是其他任何人;维护党中央权威和集中统一领导,对象是党中央而不是其他任何组织。党中央的权威决定各级党组织的权威,各级党组织的权威来自党中央的权威,“两个维护”既不能层层套用,也不能随意延伸。(人民日报,2019.11.18)

与丁薛祥的“是……而不是”异曲同工,政治局委员、中宣部长黄坤明赞颂习思想的句式是“只有……而没有”:

实践已经证明并将继续证明,只有这一思想而没有别的什么思想能够引领当代中国发展进步、指引人民创造美好生活,只有这一思想而没有别的什么思想能够凝聚近14亿中国人民的意志、汇集全体中华儿女的力量。

临近2019年末,中共中央政治局召开专题民主生活会。会议如何发扬民主,党媒语焉不详。报道的重点在此:

会议强调,维护习近平总书记党中央的核心、全党的核心地位,维护党中央权威和集中统一领导,是推动新时代中国特色社会主义不断发展前进的根本政治保证。面对当今世界百年未有之大变局,面对错综复杂的国内外风险挑战,习近平总书记高瞻远瞩、统揽全局、运筹帷幄、指挥若定,作出一系列重大科学判断,提出一系列重大战略策略,推动一系列重大工作,领导全党全国各族人民在进行具有许多新的历史特点的伟大斗争、推进新时代中国特色社会主义发展上取得新的重大成就,展现了共产党人坚定的理想信念、人民领袖深切的为民情怀、马克思主义政治家高超的政治领导艺术。(2019.12.28,人民日报)

    这是有关“442”的最新表述,将引领2020的领袖宣传。

区域温度

最近两年,我们每月观测中国大陆各省、自治区、直辖市党委机关报,关注政治传播的热度分布。如2018年,做过关键词“定于一尊,一锤定音”的语温地图。

2019,我们选择6组词语进行观察:“不忘初心,牢记使命”、“维护习近平”(这个动宾结构带出的惟一句子是“维护习近平总书记党中央的核心、全党的核心地位”)、“党政军民学,东西南北中”(该语带出的惟一句子是“党政军民学,东西南北中,党是领导一切的”)、“人民领袖”、“全党拥护,人民爱戴,当之无愧”、“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”,结果如下:

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“不忘初心,牢记使命”,传播热度最高的前三位是:天津,贵州,河南;后三位是:上海,四川,安徽。

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“维护习近平”,传播热度最高的前三位是:西藏,天津,新疆;后三位是:上海,辽宁,安徽。

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“党政军民学,东西南北中”,传播热度最高的前三位是:山西,天津,西藏;后三位是:福建,浙江,吉林与海南(并列)。

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“人民领袖”,传播热度最高的前三位是:西藏,天津,湖南;后三位是:宁夏,吉林,安徽与上海四川(并列)。

如前所述,“全党拥护,人民爱戴,当之无愧”一语,2018已调控降温,2019,仅三地使用:西藏,广东,江西,西藏次数最多。

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“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”,是个蓄势待发的语句(下文将分析)。传播热度最高的前三位是:河南,天津,西藏;后三位是:重庆,上海,北京。

对这6组词语的传播,热度明显领先的是西藏(包括使用了“全党拥护……”,在5组名列前三,而且有三个第一:“维护习近平”、“人民领袖”和“全党拥护……”)和天津(除了中央已调控降温的“全党拥护……”,其余5组都名列前三)。

进入后三位次数最多的是上海(4次)和安徽(3次)。

细看6组词语的传播,发现较为低调的除了上海,还有重庆和北京。有个耐人寻味的现象:“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”一语,使用最少的,是政治局委员蔡奇、陈敏尔、李强分别担任书记的北京、重庆、上海;但另一位政治局委员李鸿忠主政的天津,热度夺银。

2019,我们逐月观测了各省、自治区、直辖市第一把手在辖区党委机关报的出现频率,排名前三的是:河北王东峰,西藏吴英杰,海南刘赐贵。其中西藏的这项指标和西藏在前面关键词语温地图的排名高度吻合。吴英杰的出现频率有8个月进入前三,3个月排名第一。但天津李鸿忠曝光度不高,2019曾有4个月列入后三。排名最后的是新疆陈全国。

政治口号传播热度和个人曝光度的区域比较,意涵丰富,可供政治学者深入研究。笔者的粗浅判断是:高调或低调,与地方首脑的忠诚、地位的巩固等,没有“正相关”的对应;或可反向解析。

蓄势之“高举”

两年来,笔者一直密切关注“习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想”向旗帜语完成版“习近平思想”的缩略,并在2018语象报告中判断“缩略速度折射最高权威的强度”。

2019,缩略未完成。2018曾出现的数十种习思想,已基本集中在四个思想即“习近平强军思想”、“习近平外交思想”、“习近平生态文明思想”和“习近平新时代中国特色社会主义经济思想”。这四个思想在2019年的总使用量比2018年小幅提升,比重如图:

图片包含 屏幕截图
描述已自动生成

如缩略告成,“习近平思想”将无悬念地被嵌入“高举……伟大旗帜”的句式中。这是中共话语仪式中的最高级形态,曾应用于“毛泽东思想”和“邓小平理论”。然而笔者发现,缩略尚待完成,“高举”已然出现。

2017年秋,19大上,军委副主席许其亮提出“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想旗帜”;军委委员魏凤和的讲话多了修饰词“伟大”。大会闭幕后不久,浙江将“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”写入了省委决定。

这一语句极为重要。19大后的共青团18大、工会17大、妇联12大上,这句话都写在人民大会堂二楼眺台上。奇怪的是,这两年在党媒上,它还远不是热语。

这种情况在历史上曾有过。

“高举毛泽东思想伟大红旗”在党报首次出现,是在1963年底。军方是该语传播的力推者。1964,解放军报上它的语温为“热”,人民日报上为“冷”。

图片包含 文字, 报纸
描述已自动生成

1964年国庆,军报和人民日报的头版刊登的领袖像和报道完全一样,大标语却不同。解放军报使用了“高举毛泽东思想伟大红旗”,人民日报却没有。1965,军报上该语为“烫”,人民日报达到了“热”(国庆头版和军报一样使用了“高举”标语)。1966,两报上该语都升腾为“沸”。文革开始。如雷贯耳的“高举”声中,上图左边党主席“光焰无际”,右边国家主席成为“叛徒、内奸、工贼”。鉴之历史,颂词隐藏的杀机让人不寒而栗。

“高举毛泽东思想伟大红旗”的生命周期为13年(1963-1976)。接下来的“高举邓小平理论伟大旗帜”,生命周期为16年(1997-2012)。它的声势不如前者,在人民日报上从未达到沸级。1997年,江泽民“5.31讲话”首秀此语,1997下半年,语温为烫。1998-2002,各年语温降为热(其中2000年为暖)。2003-2007,总体降到温。2008-2012,降为冷。

“高举邓小平理论伟大旗帜”后,零星出现过“高举‘三个代表’重要思想伟大旗帜”(习近平在浙江省委书记任上曾在报刊文章上使用)、“高举‘科学发展观’伟大旗帜”。江泽民和胡锦涛的旗帜语,冠名都不可能,“高举”焉能奢望。

“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”降生已两年,其传播状况可堪玩味。人民日报上,2018,2019,“高举”的语温均为冷,有点像1964。和1964不同的是,并不存在两个声音。19大后,军方对“高举”的推动乏力,两年来解放军报上“高举”的语温不比人民日报高。1965的升温,在2019也未发生。2019的使用篇数与上年相若且略减(全部中国报刊的使用总量也相似)。

这个重要的语句,既没有出现在2018、2019两会的各个报告中,也没有出现在二中、三中、四中全会的公报里。两年来,政治局常委仅两人在公开讲话中对其使用过“高举”(赵乐际,2018.10.30,中国妇女12次代表大会致辞;汪洋,2019.8.29,全国非公有制经济人士优秀中国特色社会主义事业建设者表彰大会的致辞)。下图显示2019人民日报上“习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想”和“高举习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想伟大旗帜”的传播比例:

“高举习近平思想伟大旗帜”无疑是终极话语目标。现实表明,攀登峰巅并不轻松。2019是“高举”的蓄能之年。笔者判断,在中共的时间表上,上图中心的红圈,未来将扩大,在2021建党百年纪念日,成为党媒烫级以上话语。而“高举习近平思想伟大旗帜”,应悬挂在2022中共20大会场。

(参与本文数据挖掘的有陶乐思、朱蕴儿、丁丁,特此致谢)