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).

Questions surround Urumqi reporter's death

One female journalist was killed and a second seriously injured on April 18 after they were struck by a tractor shovel on the worksite of a high-profile infrastructure project in Urumqi, the capital of China’s Xinjiang autonomous region. The tragedy seems to have been an accident, but there are lingering questions about how local media and authorities in Urumqi have handled the story.
The two journalists were reportedly interns for the Urumqi Evening Post, a leading commercial newspaper in the regional capital. They were struck by the tractor shovel shortly after 11am on April 18 while on the worksite of the Tianzi Road Project (田字路工程), an important infrastructure project in Urumqi designed to alleviate serious traffic congestion in the city.


[ABOVE: Urumqi Evening Post intern Bailu was struck and killed by a tractor shovel when reporting on a major construction project on April 18.]
The project’s design is in the shape of the Chinese character “tian” (田), meaning “field,” hence the name “Tianzi Road” (or “field character road”). Phase one of the project has already been completed, and phase two is now underway.
The Tianzi Road Project is an important source of political capital for local Party leaders in Xinjiang and there has been pressure in recent months to complete phase two. On April 16, just two days before the on-site accident, local media reported that work on the project had been accelerated.
One source in Xinjiang, who requested anonymity given the local sensitivity of this story, said many problems had been exposed at the Tianzi Road Project and that the local government had violated normal construction procedures for the sake of “political point scoring” (政府为了政绩违背建设规律一味最求速度). The source also alleged that the Urumqi Evening Post had sent two inexperienced interns to the Tianzi Road Project worksite because it believed they would be more amenable to the propaganda goals of the local leadership.
According to the Xinjiang source, the accident on April 18 happened on a section of the project directly across from Urumqi’s famous bazaar, the “Dabazha.” The source also told CMP that the reporting intern killed in the accident, Bailu (拜璐), belongs to China’s muslim Hui minority.
The priority nature of the infrastructure project and the ethnicity of the intern who was killed both make this a potentially sensitive story for the local leadership.
On the day of the accident the Urumqi Evening Post initially issued a post from its official Weibo account that included the name of the project worksite and the term “tractor shovel.” That post was quickly deleted and replaced with a second post in which both were removed. The omission was spotted by eagle-eyed users on Sina Weibo, who re-posted images of both posts:

[I’d like to ask: Why did the Urumqi Evening Post delete the location, and the word “tractor shovel”?] On the morning of April 18, 2 female journalists from the Urumqi Evening Post were reporting on the Tianzi Road Project when they were accidentally struck by a tractor shovel. One died and the other was injured. What is unforeseen is that the first Weibo sent out by the Urumqi Evening Post was quickly deleted, and the words “tractor shovel” and “Tianzi Road” were removed from a follow-up post. A tractor shovel was the cause of the accident, and the place where it happened was Tianzilu — so why were these most crucial aspects of the news story removed? Look at the following image.


[ABOVE: A composite image showing two posts on the April 18 accident at the Tianzi Road Project, the first mentioning the location and the second removing it.]
Users speculated that the newspaper had removed the reference to the Tianzi Road Project because local leaders did not want to be held liable or have the project tainted by tragedy. The reference to “tractor shovel” might have been removed to avoid associations with forced demolition. In a number of cases across China, villagers have been crushed by machines while trying to defend their homes from forced demolition by the authorities. Social media users did make this association in the comments sections of some posts on the Tianzi Road Project accident.
The August 19 edition of the Urumqi Evening Post also deflected the story of the intern’s death away from the Tianzi Road Project. The paper’s front page carried the story with a photograph of a candlelight vigil held for the victim the night before [A slideshow of the vigil is also available on the paper’s website. But the story’s headline read: “Bailu: Youth Cut Short On The Way To An Interview.” The story suggests that Bailu was killed not at the worksite but on the way to report on the story.

[ABOVE: The August 19 edition of the Urumqi Evening Post runs a front-page story on the death of the paper’s intern, Bailu.]
Social media have played an important role in the unfolding of this story.
One of the first reports on the incident came from Zhou Peng (周鹏), a journalist for the Xinjiang Legal News, who wrote at 1:11pm on April 18: “There’s been an accident on the Dabazha (大巴扎) section of the Tianzilu Project (田字路工程). Two journalists, one dead and one injured.”
A few minutes later he added: “On April 18 at 11:05am, two journalists from the Urumqi Evening Post were struck by a tractor shovel when covering the Dabazha section of the Tianzilu regeneration project. One journalist died on the scene and the other was injured.”
At 2:18pm Zhou Peng further updated the story, encouraging users not to invent conspiracies about the reporter’s death (for example, the suggestion that this was related to forced demolition): “While working the driver of the tractor shovel had line of sight problems and didn’t notice the two reporters, and this resulted in the accident. I ask that everyone not come to careless conclusions.”
Social media have also provided a platform for other journalists to make their feelings known about the case. Mou Min (牟敏), a reporter at Urumqi Evening Post, wrote on Sina Weibo:

If one day something happens to me in the course of reporting a story, the rest of you won’t know where exactly it happened, and how it happened, because you wouldn’t be allowed to know. But there would be people calling on all of you to follow my example, to contribute to the cause of journalism. This is our sorrow. I love doing journalism, but I am filled with sorrow.

Another Urumqi Evening Post reporter, Gao Ting (高婷), wrote:

Working the past three years as a journalist, I’ve put up with curses and hardship and these have toughened me up. But when heard that my colleague was run over by a shovel tractor, I felt the lightness of life for the first time and didn’t know how to calm myself down. After that, when I saw things being done that didn’t have the slightest shred of humanity to them, I could only think about how I hoped my own child would never become a journalist.

24 Years Since Hu Yaobang's Death


April 15, 2013, marked the 24th anniversary of the death of Hu Yaobang (胡耀邦), a pro-reform political figure who served as the CCP’s General Secretary from 1982 to 1987. Hu’s death in 1989 was an important catalyst for student protests in China that year. In 2013, many users on Weibo commemorated the anniversary of Hu’s death, offering words of praise and lighting virtual candles. The above cartoon, posted to Sina Weibo by artist Jiao Yantian (矫艳田), depicts Hu Yaobang raising his hand in greeting. The message reads simply: “Speak the truth and you earn the friendship of the people, do real things and you are great for a generation.”

Post on lawyer's hunger strike deleted

The following post by Chen Huhua (陈沪华), a Shanghai-based Sina Weibo user with just under 5,000 fans, was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 7:45pm on April 14, 2013. The post deals with a hunger strike held by a lawyer outside the gates of the Hupo School in the city of Hefei protesting the school’s refusal to allow Zhang Anni, the daughter of political activist Zhang Lin, to attend school. Zhang Lin was actively involved in the 1989 pro-democracy movement in Anhui. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]
The deleted post reads:

A lawyer goes on hunger strike to voice his opposition, all for the sake of Anni!
律师绝食抗议,一切皆为安妮!


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.

Sex, Hate and Japan


In April 2013 many Chinese took to social media to mock the excessiveness of anti-Japanese war dramas on Chinese television. Anyone who channel surfs inside China knows that anti-Japanese dramas are staple programming. The programs, which whip up hatred of the Japanese, have in recent years gotten the green light because 1) they serve the political objectives of China’s leaders by polishing up the liberation credentials of the CCP, 2) portray the CCP as China’s protector against outside aggressors, 3) distract Chinese from internal woes, 4) are an easy sell to Chinese audiences who have been reared on anti-Japanese sentiments and 5) are easy to make in a heavily restricted media environment where most contemporary issues are impossible to explore. But the flood of anti-Japanese programming has also resulted in extreme competition in a production environment that encourages low-budget fare. As a result, these programs have raced to the bottom, resorting to ever more extreme violence and sexual content to lure audiences. One recent example cited by fed-up web users was a scene in one program in which a naked young woman salutes Red Army soldiers who have just rescued her from rape as the hands of brutal Japanese soldiers. In another program a Japanese soldier is sliced in half by a heroic peasant warrior capable of ridiculous feats of violence. In the above cartoon, posted to Sina Weibo by artist Johnny Won (原子漫画), Chinese television viewers, grey and faceless, sit on a grey sofa and watch a pastiche of tasteless anti-Japanese programming. They throw their hands up with joy as a Japanese soldier is split in two.

Party must grab the agenda, says official

In the most recent edition of Red Flag Journal (红旗文稿), a twice-monthly Party publication run by the journal Seeking Truth, the acting vice-minister of Shaanxi province’s propaganda department argues that Party-run media and new media now form two separate “public opinion fields” in China, and that this disconnect is an unacceptable challenge to Party rule.
Ren Xianliang (任贤良), who is also a vice-chairman of the All-China Journalists Association (中国记协) — charged with issuing press licenses and monitoring the conduct of journalists to ensure they “serve socialism and the overall interests of the Party and the nation” — has been one of the Party’s core theoreticians on propaganda and press control in recent years. Ren’s 2010 book The Guiding Art of the Public Opinion (舆论引导艺术:领导干部如何面对媒体) propounded many of Hu Jintao’s approaches to press control, essentially the idea that the leadership needed to find new ways to seize the agenda in the information age [See CMP analysis here].


[ABOVE: Ren Xianliang addresses journalists and editors during a government arranged tour of Shaanxi by Chinese internet media in 2011.]
Ren begins his piece in the Red Flag Journal: “In China today, two distinct fields of public opinion exist — one the traditional public opinion field comprising Party newspapers, Party journals, Party broadcasters and news agencies, the other the public opinion field of newly emerging media based on the internet.”
This state of affairs, says Ren, has “not only challenged the basic principle of the Party running the media (党管媒体), but has also resulted in confrontational division among social classes, damaged the credibility of the government and corrosively weakened the foundation of Party rule.”
Ren argues that the answer is for the Party to “have the courage to be hands on in its control” (真抓实管). He resolutely affirms the longstanding principle that “the Party runs the media” (党管媒体)”

Just like the [idea of] the Party controlling the military, of controlling guns and arms, the Party’s control of the media is an unassailable basic principle in terms of upholding the Party’s leadership, and under the current situation this [principle] can only be strengthened and must not weaken. Today, some web users use the internet to give vent to their anger, to generate and disseminate rumors, to mislead the people, and even to invade the privacy of others, and these are internet crimes. A number of so-called internet personalities (网络精英) manipulate sensitive incidents, maliciously attacking the current system, blaming and blackening the name of the Party and the government, in some cases even inciting the subversion of the Party’s leadership and its political rule. Some traditional media persons work in the home field by day and in their own private spaces at night, disguising their names with aliases to publish articles that couldn’t be published by their own media — they distribute these on the internet, and even sell them to other websites for profit.

Ren rues the fact that some users of Weibo and other platforms have drawn massive fan bases, so that “some Weibo VIPs have hundreds of thousands, millions or even tens of millions of followers . . . their influence substantially surpassing that of print media and even broadcast television.”
Ren’s note of alarmism over the Party’s loss of control and influence over media agendas is not entirely new. By the time of the SARS epidemic ten years ago, the notion that Party media were losing (or had lost) the agenda to a new generation of commercial newspapers and magazines like Southern Metropolis Daily, Caijing and The Beijing News in combination with commercial internet portal sites had already become a defining current of mainstream Party thinking on press and propaganda.
This sense of alarm in fact undergirded Hu Jintao’s 2008 press policy of “public opinion channeling”, or yulun yindao (舆论引导), the idea essentially that Party media needed to seize the agenda first and then expand the reach of their reports by using the commercial media, which were viewed as a “resource” for propaganda. Journalists in China have called this policy “grabbing the megaphone,” and these are the ideas that Ren Xianliang fleshes out in his 2010 book.
It’s not at all surprising, perhaps, to see that the sense of alarm has now shifted to social media.
Nor is it surprising that one of Ren’s solutions is a social media version of “grabbing the megaphone.” He writes: “We must promote the idea of Party members and cadres getting online, opening up Weibo accounts and speaking on behalf of the Party and the government, fostering our own group of ‘thought leaders’ on the internet and occupying the new media, this new public opinion front.”
The prospects for influential pro-Party microbloggers seem poor at the moment, however. When I plugged Ren Xianliang’s name into Sina Weibo, supposing with admitted amusement that he hadn’t even opened an account, I found that matters were far worse.
Ren Xianliang, it seems, is himself is a sensitive keyword, yielding only the message that says it all: “According to relevant laws, regulations and policies, the search results for ‘Ren Xianliang’ cannot be shown.”

Impish Overlord


In April 2013, North Korean leader Kim Jong-un edged his isolated country to the brink of conflict by preparing the launch of missiles on its eastern coast and warning of pending nuclear war against South Korea and its ally the United States. The bellicose actions of North Korea also drew oblique disapproval from its long-time ally China, underscoring its increasing isolation. China’s Global Times newspaper wrote on April 11: “The North Korean regime has to face up to the difficulties in returning to the international community if it refuses to give up its nuclear ambitions. Even if the US and South Korea make concessions, the North still confronts problems such as sanctions and economic obstacles. Concrete moves are needed to solve the current dilemma that the North faces.” In the above cartoon, posted by artist Johnny Won to Sina Weibo (原子漫画), an impish Kim Jong-un, naked but for a childlike superhero cape, stands atop a pedestal and urinates on the United States, Japan and South Korea. Off to one side, China leans on its cane and says, “Stupid child, you’re asking for death.”

The Chicken-Pig Nightmare


In March 2013, the shocking news that more than 15,000 dead pigs had been found floating in the river providing the main source of water for the city of Shanghai was followed with the news that health officials had confirmed several cases of a deadly new virus, H7N9. While China’s government sought to reassure the public that the H7N9 cases had no relation to the dead pigs, many people remained unconvinced. In the above political cartoon, posted to Sina Weibo by an online artist under the alias “Da Wei 29” (大卫29_45177), a chicken is depicted wearing the skin of a pig. The piece is called “Nightmare.”

Li Chengpeng talk at HKU

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

Authorities Cancel Indie Film festival

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?”

Journalist explains human rights appeal

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.