Veteran journalist and author Li Chengpeng (李承鹏) was the center of an online storm earlier this year when his signing tour for his new book, Everybody in the World Knows, was hijacked by local authorities and vocal leftists.
Tomorrow, Li will join us at the University of Hong Kong to talk about his work. What does it mean to be a writer in China today? “Writing is not for the sake of the truth,” says Li, “because the truth is too distant to grasp; writing is for the sake of dignity, because this is our most basic line.”
PUBLIC LECTURE:
Why I write (我为什么写作)
WHEN:
April 10, 2013 (Wednesday)
6:00-7:30pm
WHERE:
Wang Gungwu Lecture Hall
Graduate House
The University of Hong Kong
Enquiries: [email protected]
The talk will be conducted in Putonghua

Cui Weiping (崔卫平), a well-known social critic and professor at the Beijing Film Academy, wrote on Sina Weibo today that the Yunnan Multi-Cultural Festival, one of the country’s most important platforms for independent documentary film, has been shuttered by authorities.

The forum, known as “YunFest,” was founded in 2003 by the BAMA Mountain Culture Research Institute, an NGO supervised by the Yunnan Academy of Social Sciences. The idea of the forum was to “become a platform of discussion” between visual documentary filmmakers and artists from China and the Mekong region.

The forum — called so because the “film festival” is a much more sensitive matter to plan in China’s controlled media environment — is often attended by at least a handful of international critics and festival representatives. So the forum has also served as a crucial platform for young Chinese indie filmmakers to get their films seen and recognized internationally.

Cui Weiping wrote on Weibo:

“YunFest” Multicultural Visual Festival is an important platform for independent documentary in China. It began in 2003 and has already gone on for 10 years. This year it has been cancelled completely [by the authorities]. Those of us who didn’t have time to cancel our tickets found ourselves in Dali. We are able to sit together and talk about film but unable to watch any films. On the surface the cancellation of a film forum doesn’t seem to mean much, but put all of these situations together and it amounts to the suppression of all space for cultural exploration and the killing of our country’s soft power.

“YunFest has always been a special cultural space,” film director Feng Xiaohua (冯晓华) wrote.
Cui Weiping added: “Making us stay in our hotel rooms so that we can’t screen films together may look for the moment like stability. But who will take responsibility for the longer term impact on cultural creativity and spiritual life that this strangling of individuals has?”

On February 26, 2013, CMP reported on an open letter issued by a group of prominent Chinese public intellectuals ahead of the National People’s Congress calling on China to ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR).
In the most recent edition of Hong Kong’s Yazhou Zhoukan, veteran journalist Xiao Shu (笑蜀), a former opinion writer at Southern Weekly, explains what his thoughts were in planning and executing the open letter. Xiao also mentions that a number of signers have been “invited to tea” by government authorities, slang in China for unofficial questioning and intimidation.
Our translation of the article in Yazhou Zhoukan follows. The translation was done under time constraints. On questions of accuracy, readers should of course refer to the original.

A Responsible Social Movement to Promote China’s Transition
—— My Declaration on the Open Letter on Human Rights
Xiao Shu (笑蜀)
On February 26, a group of intellectuals and members of the middle class issued an open letter calling on the National People’s Congress to move quickly to ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Who exactly initiated this call? What was their objective? I hereby state the following before I return to the mainland from Hong Kong.
1.
It was me who initiated this call. This is something I have never sought to conceal. I personally sent out all of the mass e-mails soliciting signatures to the open letter. I understood that a proportion of those e-mails would likely be intercepted. But what did that really matter? First of all, considering the immense capabilities of the national machine, how could I possibly hope to play cat and mouse with that machine? Secondly, the signers to the call for ICCPR ratification acted rationally and lawfully — everything was open and aboveboard. What need was there to disguise anyone’s identity? I anticipated from the beginning that they would be eagle-eyed. And so, not long ago, when some of the signers informed me that they had been “invited to tea” and that the authorities said they knew I was responsible for the entire thing, this came as no surprise whatsoever.
Let me explain the whole process of how the call developed.
The inspiration for the human rights letter arose from my trip to Taiwan in the spring last year. Friends in Taiwan who accompanied me can attest to the fact that I was most keenly interested in visiting the landmarks of Taiwan’s own human rights legacy. For example, the Memorial to the February 28th Incident (228纪念馆), the Jingmei Prison [and human rights park] and the Green Island Prison [formerly for political prisoners]. The development and transformation of the human rights situation in Taiwan made a deep impression on me. My time in Taiwan solidified my belief the basic human rights are something we most urgently lack in China, and that this is the most fatal of the problems China now faces.
I began preparation for a signature campaign upon my return from Taiwan. My decision was to call upon the National People’s Congress to quickly ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, to promote the implementation of this treaty in China as a first step. The draft of the appeal was ready ahead of the Spring Festival. Its core idea was the establishment of human rights in our country, directly modeled on the experience of Taiwan. The plan was originally to release the appeal on February 28, on the eve of the National People’s Congress. However, I learned on the 26th that Chinese media had already received a ban from the Central Propaganda Department against any coverage of [international] human rights treaties. I worked quickly that day to assemble signatures in view of the fact that the authorities seemed to be moving quickly — domestic media channels had already been choked off, and I knew it was possible all space might disappear if the call was not released quickly.
The enthusiasm of intellectuals and members of the middle class speaks for itself. Despite the fact that are no open domestic channels for communication, and I could only use e-mail to gather signatures, the list of signatories released by February 28 (the eighth list) included the real names of more than one-thousand brothers and sisters. These signers represented a broad spectrum, from senior to the grassroots, from the liberal right as well as from the left. But one defining aspect of the call was that it gathered a great number of people of more mainstream backgrounds. It could even be said to be the largest coming together of members of the middle class [over rights issues] since 2008. On March 15, I established a blog site for the appeal [to ratify the ICCPR], and the appeal then entered a period of normalization. After that, my own role was no longer paramount. On March 26, I issued a farewell letter to volunteers tasked with handling the ICCPR ratification blog, announcing that from that point on I would withdraw from the daily work of organizing signatures and would simply be a signer. I would return to my writing career in that capacity.
And so what had perhaps been for me the most stimulating period of spiritual rail jumping (精神出轨) I had ever experienced came to a close. As a student of history and someone who has been around the block, I have seen the many sides and colors of politics. I have long felt politics in China have not evolved to a point where they are suited to the involvement of people like me, to men of letters. In any case, politics is not my line of work. Ultimately, I can only wield my pen to make my way in the world. My principle has always been to participate but not to become submerged.
2.
The call to ratify the human rights treaty emerged from my belief in basic human rights. But even more so, it came from my thoughts about the path to transition [for our country].
My ideas about the road to transition [for China] can be summed up in a single phrase. We could call it “pressure theory” (倒逼论). I don’t think it is conceivable, first of all, that our rulers with revolutionize themselves through a top-down process of reform. The vested interests [working against reform] are too formidable. They also have an attitude of arrogance. What interest do they have in a transition if it is not a matter of no alternative, if it remains a matter of choice? People often point to Chiang Ching-kuo (蒋经国) as an example of a ruler consciously pushing change. Chiang Ching-kuo is an isolated example, however, one that could not be duplicated in mainland China. The interest structures in place in Taiwan [during Chiang Ching-kuo’s] time were not complex, and a single Chiang Ching-kuo was sufficient [to force change]. The interest structures in China today are more complex that anything we have ever seen before. If we had a thousand Chiang Ching-kuo’s, this still would not be sufficient — they would still be powerless to change anything.
I do not believe, at the same time, in the traditional model of bottom-up revolution. I especially do not believe in the regime-centered theory (政权中心论) that provides the theoretical foundation for traditional revolutions. The greatest absurdity of those who subscribe to regime-centered theories [of revolution] is that while they live in an era in which civil society has become globalized, their heads remain stuck in the pre-civil society era of Leninism. The regime perspective has blinded them to the social perspective. Their perspective centers on notions of power, not on ideas about rights. They fail to see the broader trends of social development and rights development, and they don’t believe that the development of society and the development of rights are the ultimate drivers of change. Without the intermediating forces of social development and rights development, and the major forces they conceal, transition comes to be understood simplistically as a battle of opposing forces, of black and white, a game of life and death.
The regime-centered perspective denies the diversity of possible paths to transition. The only applicable standard becomes regime change, and ideas about transition cannot break free of a Cold War mentality, of ideas about the struggle against the enemy. This perspective effectively brings one down to the level, to the same moral plane or the same political jungle, as those in power. It is ultimately a self-defeating battle.
To find productive solutions we must have a new way of thinking. This means, first of all, moving beyond the narrow and limited perspective of regime-centered thinking. I’m not saying that the question of political power is not important, just that it is not the only consideration. It is within society that newly emerging forces are concentrated, and it is in society that we can best place our hopes. The traditional idea of top-down reform is bankrupt, as it the traditional bottom-up notion of revolution. But new possibilities for transition, and opportunities for breakthrough, are offered us by the middle ground of social development. These could offer our best hopes for transition in China.
This means our whole perspective on transition needs to undergo a transition. We must move from a regime-centered perspective to a socially centered perspective. A change in regime may be the natural outcome of a transitional process, but this is something that cannot be determined by subjective will. Society is our home court; the prerogative in social development and rights development is ours. It is entirely within our power to seek the causes within ourselves and not outside of ourselves, to take on the mission of social development and rights development. We cannot know when a change in regime will come, but what we do know is that before that day comes there are many things we can do. Social development and rights development require a great deal of preparation and accumulation.
What most urgently needs to be accomplished, in my view, is a social movement. I said earlier that I advocated pressure. Pressure on whom? Pressure on the system of course. So how do we apply that pressure? Prayers won’t amount to pressure. Desperate anger and self-rejection won’t amount to pressure. Only a social movement can result in pressure [on the system]. Only an active, enterprising, rational and responsible social movement can exert pressure. It would be difficult to change China through a direct process of regime change, but we certainly can change China through the pressure exerted by a social movement.
This kind of social movement is like a process of taming the beast. Transition, in fact, is an extended process of taming the beast. The weaker a society is, the more barbarous political power becomes. The stronger a society is, the more regulated political power becomes. This has always proven to be the case. If the beast is left untamed and continues to harm people, the trainer cannot escape responsibility, and there is no sense in simply blaming the beast – after all, inflicting harm is the nature of the beast. By the same logic, if a political regime continues to act in a tyrannous manner, a society cannot absolve itself, and we can conclude with certainty that social pressure is insufficient.
For these reasons I have long advocated the building of a civil society [in China]. My glass of civil society is filled to the brim with social movements. Early on I promoted the surrounding gaze (围观) — [or broad public attention to breaking social issues] — as a means of changing China. The surrounding gaze is a proto form of social movement. Later I advocated organized rights defense, which is a mature form of social movement. But both forms in any case require a subject, both require source material. If the subject of the surrounding gaze is only this or that incident, if it surrounds only certain particularized interests, organized rights defense demands transcending the particularized interests of a given incident and not being subject to its limitations. It requires elevation to the sphere of universal rights and the public interest. Namely, the subject and material that needed for organized rights defense should be defined on the level of basic rights. They should be carried out around basic rights, and they should drive the development of basic rights along. This means ultimately using rights to check power, pressuring change to the system.
It was along these lines of thought that I came to the call for the ratification of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. The principal goal of this human rights appeal as I envision it is to provide source material and point the direction for a new era of social movements and organized rights defense. I have done this not in the capacity of a political figure, but in the capacity of a critic. I have always believed that the role of a social critic is not merely to respond to this or that issue or incident, but to set the tone and agenda for the times.
The social movement I advocate is not directed toward political power though its ultimate objective must involve political power. The goal is to rebuild society through social movements on the one hand, and to gradually transform political power through social movements on the other. I believe China needs a remedial lesson in social movements. I believe it must experience an era of social movements. Social development and rights development demand a process; social movements must drive them forward. This is necessary also because it would offer some latitude to those in power, a way out we might say. This would in fact be a form of concession, because while the sovereignty of the people is absolute and there can ultimately be no concession on this fact over the medium to long term, there is room for temporary compromise. I can say personally, at least, that I have no interest in your power. But I have an additional condition, and that is that you must tolerate social movements. Your political regime must accept pressure from social movements. It must change in response to pressure from social movements — it cannot resist transition and continue to affirm the Five Don’ts [NOTE: The so-called “Five Don’ts” refer to: 1. no multiparty system, 2. no diversity of guiding ideologies, 3. no separation of powers, 4. no federal system, and 5. no privatization in China]. Through a process of mutual mediation, the attitude of hostility must gradually be removed from social movements, they must be desensitized, made neutral, and they must ultimately become institutionalized through democracy and rule of law, whereby social movements can become normalized. Through the platform of social movements, both sides can learn to seek dialogue, learn to interact, learn to compromise and learn to contest one another in good faith.
3.
I am often asked if these ideas of mine are even feasible. Is it even conceivable that the National People’s Congress will ratify the ICCPR?
I’m not so naive, of course, to believe that as soon as I’ve begun the ICCPR call that the authorities are going to ratify the treaty. But do we require certainty we’ll reach our goal with the first move before we see any sense in moving at all? If we cannot reach our goal in a single move, does that mean it is of no avail, or that we can or should do nothing?
Actually, the ICCPR is basically a process of notification. On the one hand it notifies the people of the country that there is a human rights treat that defines the most basic human rights standards internationally, that China’s government in fact signed the treaty long ago, affirming these basic human rights standards.
At the same time, it notifies the government: you have made a promise to the international community and to the people of your own country, and this promise must be realized, that its time [for the government] to pay up on its obligations. If it is not possible to pay up immediately, then at least [the government] must recognize the obligation exists, and cannot act as though it does not. Then we must have an open discussion, an open dialogue, talking with the government about the specific steps and concrete methods [for the government] to live up to its obligations [on human rights].
How can we say that this two-way notification is of no use? If the authorities pay this appeal no mind whatsoever, this only proves how much they are in the wrong, how much they lack credibility. Won’t this two-way notification at least promote the study of the ICCPR and help to disseminate human rights values? Won’t it at least help to educate people about human rights? And isn’t human rights education exactly what Chinese society needs so desperately?
Another doubt I’ve heard is that even if the National People’s Congress ratifies [the ICCPR] this will not necessarily be of any use. After all, isn’t our own Constitution full of pretty promises? But haven’t these been shelved as well? This too I don’t believe. Yes, our Constitution has not been realized, but has anyone thought about the real reason our Constitution hasn’t been realized? It has not been realized for the simple reason that these things were written this way only because the authorities decided so. Essentially, all of those articles of the Constitution that look so nice have been offered like patronage by the authorities — they are not the result of pressure, not the result of negotiation. Patronage is not a contract, and it does not amount to a check on the authorities. However, if we have the strength to pressure the authorities to ratify the ICCPR, this human rights treaty will be a fundamentally different matter from the Constitution. It would be an authentic contract, with binding force on the authorities. If we had the strength to pressure the authorities to ratify the treaty, then of course we would also have the strength to pressure them to live up to their obligations under the treaty — we could not possibly allow them to shelve it and forget it once again. So if they could be pressured to ratify the treaty, this would have real effect.
This idea that we must succeed for something to have effect, that something must have effect to be worth doing and before we are willing to put anything into practice at all — this kind of extreme utilitarian mindset is a natural psychological obstacle to citizen action. Success is a matter of probability, and this probability belongs to providence. Men plan and heaven accomplishes, as they say. This is essentially what I mean. As human beings we can only act as we should and plan as we might. As to whether and how our actions will have consequence, this has to be left up to providence.
This is to say that social movements in China must be elevated to a new level, and this demands an elevation of our values. It requires transcendence, not just of a narrow view focused on regimes and political power, but also of the culture of utility [whereby nothing can be attempted without the promise of success]. We must ask ourselves what it is we believe in. We must act for the protection of our own beliefs, not asking whether our actions will be of any use. Thankfully, more than 1,000 brothers and sisters have already done this, becoming signers of the open call for ratification of the ICCPR. They have already begun their own fights for an undertaking whose future seems gloomy. This itself is hope. It is the hope for a social movement — and it is the hope for China’s future.

In a pointed reminder of the complex relationship between control and its subversion in China’s media, many professional journalists today mourned the passing of Zeng Li (曾礼), affectionately known as “Old Zeng,” a man who served as a “content examiner” (审读员) at Southern Weekly but also played a crucial role in the paper’s fight against overbearing censorship policies earlier this year.
Zeng Li passed away on April 3, just days after his retirement from Southern Weekly, a paper known for its strong independent streak in a tightly controlled media environment. He was 61 years old.

[ABOVE: Zeng Li, an “unusual news examiner” who played an important role in the Southern Weekly incident in January 2013.]
Journalists, writers and others took to Chinese social media, chatrooms and other forums to remember Zeng Li, his character and his contributions. They also widely circulated a copy of Zeng’s farewell letter, in which he looked back fondly but with some remorse on his time at Southern Weekly:

Looking back on these four years, I know I did things I shouldn’t have done, that I killed reports that I shouldn’t have killed, that I removed content I shouldn’t have removed. But in the end I had an awakening, preferring not to carry out my political mission, refusing to go against my conscience and to become a criminal of history.

Zeng had served as a content examiner at Southern Weekly since 2008, when authorities endeavoured to reign in outspoken newspapers in the Southern Daily Group, including Southern Weekly and Southern Metropolis Daily, by instituting a new system of prior censorship. For this purpose, a group of “old comrades,” including Zeng, were brought onboard and tasked with reviewing content ahead of publication. This policy was a marked departure from past practice, in which “news commentators,” or yuepingyuan (阅评员), from the Central Propaganda Department pored over news content after publication with an eye to identifying transgressions but prior censorship was not generally practiced.
In the midst of the Southern Weekly incident in January this year, when staff openly protested rigorous prior censorship and sought to defend the paper’s legacy, a blog post by Zeng Li called “Who Revised the New Year’s Greeting at Southern Weekly?” was instrumental in bringing the ugliness of these censorship tactics to light.
Responding to the news of Zeng’s death, China Media Project director Qian Gang (钱钢), a former managing editor at Southern Weekly, wrote on Sina Weibo and Facebook today:

Today is Grave Sweeping Day and I light a candle to remember a contemporary who has just passed away — Zeng Li, a former content examiner (审读员) at Southern Weekly. Three days ago I received personal correspondence from him on Weibo. Never did I think that this exchange would be our last. During our first days of correspondence, he sent me three notes talking about his blog post, “Who Revised the New Year’s Greeting at Southern Weekly.” I felt deep pain and sorrow at hearing the news. I salute this very unusual news examiner (检察官)!

“There is no longevity for the good,” one user wailed with a weeping emoticon.
Writer and journalist Xia Yu (夏榆) wrote in response to Qian Gang’s post:

When I was at Southern Weekly I had a lot of opinions about Zeng Li, feeling that the review system (审读制度) muzzled the life of Southern Weekly. When the storm happened at Southern Weekly last year [when propaganda chiefs were installed in top posts] I saw courage in Old Zeng’s actions. I saw that he treasured the newspaper’s tradition perhaps even more than the radical youth [working there], that he wanted to preserve its legacy. I pay my respects to Old Zeng and his courage and conscience!

Weng Sizai (翁思再), a veteran journalist and a researcher at East China Normal University, wrote: “I read his blog post in the midst of the Southern Weekly incident. What a pity!”
Zhu Yong (祝勇), a reporter at Southern Metropolis Daily, wrote: “What a great pity! When he announced his retirement I really felt we had gained one more voice for freedom.”
Lei Lei (雷磊), a reporter at Southern Weekly, wrote on Sina Weibo:

I drank with Old Zeng at the annual meeting, and with his typical good humor he tossed back a half glass of red wine. One month ago, when I had exhausted myself on a story outside [Guangzhou], Old Zeng offered me encouragement on Weibo. Do a good job of it, young one, he said. Before when I heard he was retiring I was happy for him to have the chance to live out his days in peace. Never did I think that four days later he would be gone. Over the past year you were a pleasant surprise for this newspaper, and during your last stretch you worked hard so that the paper could come out as normal . . . May the spirit of the deceased come back to us!

The full text in image form of Zeng Li’s farewell letter upon his retirement from Southern Weekly last month follows. The letter is well worth a read:

Deng Yuwen, the deputy editor of the Central Party School’s Study Times journal and an influential commentary writer, was suspended from his post earlier this week. The cause of the Deng’s suspension is reportedly an article published on February 27 in the Financial Times, in which Deng argued that China’s relationship with North Korea had become a liability.
This isn’t the first time that an editorial written by a prominent Chinese journalist for the Financial Times has kicked up a domestic storm.
Chang Ping, a former CMP fellow and a prominent editor at the Southern Daily Group, came under fire in 2008 after he published an editorial on FT Chinese about unrest in Tibet. That editorial, “Where does the truth about Lhasa come from?“, was the beginning of the end for Chang Ping’s long career with Southern Weekly. He was finally forced out in January 2011.

[ABOVE: An image of Deng Yuwen that has been shared widely on Sina Weibo since the news on April 1 of Deng’s suspension.]
But one of the most interesting differences between Chang Ping’s case and that of Deng Yuwen is how much the latter has been talked about inside China. And one important reason for this is the rise of the microblog.
Back in 2008, when Chang Ping’s editorial caused a stink, Sina Weibo’s launch was more than a year off. Sure, there were online forums like Tianya that enabled discussion of many issues, but these forums were actively and quite effectively guided by online censors — that was the year that saw the rise of the so-called “50-cent Party” — who kept the Tibet issue squarely on sideshows like the so-called “Jack Cafferty Affair.”
It’s difficult to quantify the discussion over Deng Yuwen’s suspension and China’s policy toward North Korea, but there definitely is plenty of discussion out there. Once again, this raises the broader issue of how media control itself is being subjected to a greater degree of exposure than we’ve seen in the past, thanks in large part to the development of social media and other internet tools.
The following is just a taste of the discussion on Sina Weibo about Deng Yuwen’s suspension.
Li Hongwen (李鸿文), a Shenzhen-based Weibo user with just under 20,000 followers, wrote:

Study Times deputy editor Deng Yuwen has been suspended — http://t.cn/zT2WQA3 — Deng Yuwen is an intra-system writer who dared to use an intra-system (体制内) platform to speak a bit of truth. And this little bit of truth was not only critical but also constructive. It was entirely “politically correct.” The tyrants of the Golden Shit Dynasty (金屎王朝) [of North Korea] have angered the gods, and there’s nothing at all wrong with saying that in our foreign policy we should extricate ourselves from this piece of shit — for the sake also of the Chinese Dream (中国梦).

“The system can’t even stomach its own people,” said one comment under Li Hongwen’s post.
“Things will only get tighter and tighter, because they worry day and night about losing their grip on power,” said another.
Wu Liucun, an overseas Chinese Weibo user with more than 12,000 followers, wrote:

Actually, Deng Yuwen’s point of view is already being discussed actively among citizens, who naturally care about China’s national interests. When the news came out online that Deng has been suspended, this generated a lot of discussion online. Some objected to the suspension while other felt it was too lenient, that he should lose his official status (开除公职). Some thought he must be a dog serving the Americans, and that he should be struck.

Another user, with just a few hundred followers, wrote that the complete absence of substantive discussion of the North Korean issue was “lamentable,” suggesting this is a discussion many Chinese do want to have:

Damnit, if it weren’t for the fact that this is a foreign policy failure, would they have been afraid of criticism in the first place? . . . This is normal, of course. Of course Party-run publications aren’t going to permit viewpoints that go against the official view . . . What’s lamentable, though, is the fact that no other substantive viewpoints [on this issue] exist outside the Party papers.

Wu Yichun (吴义春), a lawyer in Guangdong province, announced through Sina Weibo that he had just made a new post to his blog on China.com. The post, “Deng Yuwen Suspended After Calling on China to Give Up North Korea,” is in fact a re-run of the BBC Chinese version of the Deng story. But the lawyer’s blog post is a good illustration of how many Chinese are not only aware of the Deng Yuwen story, they are aware (thanks in part to Weibo) of how the story is being reported outside China:

A report from the New York Times says that due to Deng Yuwen’s status as deputy editor of the Study Times, his article drew widespread attention in Washington and in Europe, and some people read this as a sign that China’s new leadership was fed up with North Korea, and that they were planning to adjust the relationship with Pyongyang.
However, as of now there are no signs whatsoever that China’s policy makers are interested in responding to Deng Yuwen’s suggestions.

Users also shared other writings from Deng Yuwen, including this piece that ran in Singapore’s Lianhe Zaobao on April 1, in which Deng discusses President Xi Jinping’s diplomatic tour of Africa.

[ABOVE: Users on Sina Weibo share other writings of suspended Study Times deputy editor Deng Yuwen, including this April 1 article in Singapore’s Lianhe Zaobao.]

The following post from Ji Yueying (齐月英-朝阳), a resident in Beijing facing property demolition, was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 7:42 p.m. on March 29, 2013. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]
The post read:

Another original thing has happened at the site of the illegal construction site at the doorstep of my home. A policeman from the Shuangjing Police Substation with license number 035076 went so far as to back up one of the workers, directing them in carrying on this forced and illegal work.

The original Chinese-language post follows:

我家门口违法施工现场又出新鲜事，双井派出所警号035076的警察竟然给违法施工人员撑腰，指挥他们强行违法施工，谁给他这么大的胆子[怒]

NOTE: All posts to The Anti-Social List are listed as “permission denied” in the Sina Weibo API, which means they were deleted by Weibo managers, not by users themselves.

The following post from journalist Xiao Han (萧含) sharing a photoshopped photo of Chinese President Xi Jinping (习近平) holding the handbag of his wife, Peng Liyuan (彭丽媛), as they disembark from an airplane during Xi’s official tour of Africa was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 7:50 p.m. yesterday, March 27, 2013. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]
The post is a repost of an original post that read: “Even a really awesome husband must help his wife carry her bag. Ha ha!”

The image below is an unaltered image of Xi and Peng disembarking from the airplane, in which Peng holds the handbag.

NOTE: All posts to The Anti-Social List are listed as “permission denied” in the Sina Weibo API, which means they were deleted by Weibo managers, not by users themselves.

It was almost 10 years ago that Time magazine asked, “Who’s Hu?” The question tugged at a thread of hope — that China’s new president, Hu Jintao, might lead the country into a new era of reform and openness.
The same question asked of the “enigmatic Hu Jintao” can now be asked of his equally enigmatic successor, Xi Jinping, though not quite with the same jangle: Who is Xi?
In the case of Hu Jintao, the bloom was off the rose by 2004. I remember sitting at a table of Chinese journalists in Beijing in December that year. The mood was gloomy. There was talk of a new “Winter” of intensified media controls. Finally, investigative reporter Zhao Shilong (赵世龙) tossed out a hopeful remark that hit the table like a wet rag: “I just wish Hu Jintao would show us his true face,” he said. On the opposite side of the table, Freezing Point deputy editor Lu Yuegang (卢跃刚) scowled, “This is his true face!”
(That very month, Wuhan’s New Weekly, of which Zhao Shilong was chief editor, was shut down by authorities. Just over a year later, Lu Yuegang was shuffled over to the research department at China Youth Daily after the high-profile crackdown on Freezing Point.)

[ABOVE: Knowing what China’s leaders think, and how they might act, is a difficult guessing game. And reliable information is hard to come by.]
In 2005 Nicholas Kristof dusted off the “Who’s Hu?” witticism. But by this time all hopes were sunk. Hu was now “the worst leader China has had since Hua Guofeng,” taking the country backward on a whole range of issues.
Obviously, it’s too early to say history is repeating itself. But the questions certainly are being repeated. Who is Xi? Will he be the reformer China needs? Are these the wrong questions?
I had a strong sense of déjà vu this week as I sat down with another veteran journalist facing intimidation by the authorities. The key now, he said, was to watch Xi Jinping after his return from his official tours to Russia and Africa. Then, having officially succeeded Hu Jintao as president at the recent National People’s Congress, and having cemented his leadership status with an overseas tour, Xi might be in a position to make his move.
What move is that? The move to make substantive reforms of the kind many people have been waiting for. Beginning, perhaps, with reforms to the system of re-education through labor and the household register system.
As we wait hopefully, let’s turn to an interesting assessment of the past 10 years by one of China’s most influential thinkers, Sun Liping (孙立平), who happens to have been current president Xi Jinping’s PhD advisor at Tsinghua University.
Sun Liping, who has been an outspoken critic of social inequality in China and the dangers posed by powerful political interests, wrote recently of the past 10 years of the Hu-Wen administration as a “failure of power.”
Interestingly, Sun also talks about the Beijing Olympics as an event that profoundly changed the course of Chinese politics, and for the worse. “Looking back now,” Sun writes, “it might be that the Olympics were something we did that we ought not to have done.”

“The Third Stage in the Failure of Power” (权力溃败的第三阶段)
March 11, 2013
Sun Liping (孙立平)
After we entered the 21st century, and after we experienced a brief period of what was termed a new administration, the trend of failing power grew more and more severe — even becoming the most noticeable characteristic of this era.
The Sun Zhigang Incident brought an end to the custody and repatriation system. SARS drove a current of information openness. There was the Chen Liangyu (陈良宇) case and the fight against corruption. [2003] was a time of what seemed like logical administration and harmony — and people generally had high hopes for the new leadership.
But then, without explanation, the new administration lowered its banners and muffled its drums. It studied the ways of North Korea. Control and stability preservation (维稳) become the salient priority, and this approach was relentless.

How did this change happen? To this day I can’t explain it no matter how hard I try. I’ve asked many friends without getting a real answer. The only thing I can think of is the impact of the Olympic Games, although behind it of course must also be counted the old thought patterns of the new leadership and its lack of confidence.
I’ve long thought that the impact of the Beijing Olympics on China was very deep, much more than a matter of dollars and cents. The highly cautious attitude [of the leadership] in facing such a grand event of this kind profoundly impacted China’s historical path even afterward. The Olympics marked the beginning, it can be said, of the ascendance of the stability preservation regime in China. Looking back now, it might be that the Olympics were something we did that we ought not to have done.
In the 21st century, China’s two most obvious characteristics have been the inflation of power (权力膨胀) and the failure of power (权力溃败), and the way the two of these have woven together. The process of the strengthening of the government’s capacity to extract resources, which had already begun before, concentrated more and more money in the hands of the government [during this decade]. And he who has wealth speaks loudest.
Meanwhile, with the successful hosting of the [Beijing] Olympic Games, the psychology of caution [that had emerged in the years ahead of the Games] transmuted into a fantasy of a national system concentrating forces to do great things. It was against this backdrop that the failure of power became more and more severe. As big money meant bigger influence an attitude of wantonness prevailed, and the national system fostered and encouraged the arbitrary and capricious use of power.
Objectively speaking, over the past 10 years people have strained every single nerve and exhausted themselves physically and mentally. This is because they have employed the most awful means imaginable to deal with an awful situation. Vested interests have now become entrenched, the result being tremendous social unfairness. In dealing with this social unfairness, [the government] is utterly helpless. It can only turn to stability preservation in hopes of ensuring unwelcome things don’t happen.
Preservation of this sort has preserved China right down into the gutter. Not only because it has it contributed to social unfairness and worsened social tensions, but also because it has destroyed the mechanisms for the normal operation of society.
Recently I raised the issue of the “license to do evil” (作恶授权). In stability preservation, the overriding concern is that “nothing happens,” and no one pays any attention to how you achieve that goal. Whatever abuse of power you commit can be justified in the name of stability preservation. Also in the name of stability preservation, any suppression of supervisory powers [such as public opinion] can be justified.

During a State Council work conference on clean government earlier this week, China’s new premier, Li Keqiang (李克强), affirmed the principle of open government information (OGI), saying there needed to be greater transparency in China to “allow the masses to effectively supervise the government.”
Li words echoed the sentiments of his predecessor, Wen Jiabao, who said during his government work report to the National People’s Congress in March 2010 that China needed to “create the conditions for the public to criticize and monitor the government.”
Li Keqiang said this week that open government information had become even more imperative as social media had created mass demand for timely information:

Right now our society is already one with a high level of transparency. There are already hundreds of millions of Weibo users. If government information is not released in a timely manner this generates animated discussion and speculation, and this can easily cause resentment among the people and give rise to negative influences, ultimately putting the government on its back foot in doing its work.

Offering what quickly became a popular meme on social media, Li also said the government needed to “speak the truth, and deliver” (说真话、交实底).

[ABOVE: Premier Li Keqiang addresses a State Council conference on clean government on March 25, 2013.]
Li said there were many “hot spot issues,” or redian wenti (热点问题), in China today that directly concerned the interests of the public — issues like environmental pollution, food safety and workplace safety. These issues, he said, were both important and “delicate.”
“We need to release related information in a timely way, actively allowing the masses to understand the actual situation, and subjecting ourselves to the supervision of the public and the media,” Li said.
He emphasized that the government needed to be proactive, and that it “cannot respond and be open only after the reaction from society has become severe.”
One Weibo user quipped in response to the Li Keqiang news, adding a giggling emoticon: “Speaking the truth and delivering — are they just thinking of this now?”