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).

Weibo on "shutting power in the cage" deleted

The following post by Zuo Yeben (作业本) responding to Xi Jinping’s statement that he would “shut power up in the cage and strike the tigers [of corruption] as well as the flies”, was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 11:02am today, January 23, 2013. Zuo Yeben currently has just over 4.9 million followers, according to numbers from Sina Weibo. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]

I’m begging you [Xi Jinping] not to throw power into the cage first!!!! We are all still here inside the cage!!! If you let them in without letting us out first they’ll bite us to death!!!

The original Chinese-language post follows:

求先别把权力关进笼子!!!!我们都还在笼子里!!!不把我们先放出去就把他们关进来会把我们咬死的!!![泪]


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.

A test for corrupt officials

Xi Jinping had just said he would shut power into the cage, striking tigers [for corruption] as well as flies. Here’s something we can try: Park a white van behind the government offices and then send a mass text message to all the leaders inside that reads, “He didn’t keep his mouth shut. She provided video . . . Don’t get on the plane. There’s a white van waiting behind the building.” Before long a bunch of flustered fat guys with black hair will come pouring out, fighting to get into your van.

Li Chengpeng: why I signed in silence

Last week, a book tour by celebrity blogger and social critic Li Chengpeng (李承鹏) was hijacked by local authorities, and by vocal leftists who oppose his critical writings on China [Summaries by TIME and SCMP].
Ahead of his first signing in his hometown of Chengdu to promote his new book, Everybody in the World Knows, Li was ordered not to say a word. In a now widely known act of silent protest, Li appeared at the signing wearing a black mask and then opened his coat to reveal the words, “I love you all,” written on his undershirt.


[ABOVE: Li Chengpeng appears before thousands of readers in Chengdu wearing a black mask after he was ordered not to say a word.]
In Guangzhou, the final leg of Li’s tour, the signing was cancelled at the last minute because the building where it was being hosted was closed for fire safety inspections.

[ABOVE: An image posted to Sina Weibo shows the notice of fire safety inspections to be carried out at the offices of Tianya in Guangzhou, where Li Chengpeng’s book signing was to take place on January 17.]
Li Chengpeng apologized to his readers for the Guangzhou cancellation with a tongue-in-cheek post to his Sina Weibo account playing on the title of his book: “Once again I apologize to everyone: Because fire safety inspections are happening at the Tianya Building, outsiders cannot go in, and therefore my book signing for readers is cancelled. I’m accepting this fact, because this place is really in need of a fire safety inspection. Everybody in the world knows, fire safety is really important.”
For all of its hitches and hijinks, Li Chengpeng’s book tour illustrates the limitations of control in the era of social media. Li’s “silent” signing in Chengdu was anything but silent — it was broadcast loudly across the internet. Every leg of his tour became the subject of fevered discussion online, pitting the values of speech and openness against controls that appeared foolish and anachronistic.
Yesterday, Li Chengpeng reflected back on his book tour with an interview published on Sina Weibo addressing some of the questions he has faced since it all began in Chengdu. The following is a partial translation:

There are some strange questions that deserve answers. These are not responses. They are not counterattacks. I just want to explain exactly what happened. I hope I can answer lingering doubts people have. Here are my answers:
QUESTION: I really don’t understand why the government would allow you to publish [your book], but not permit you to say anything at book signings. That seems like a huge contradiction.
ANSWER: This is what they call special characteristics (特色) [NOTE: Li is playing here on the Party term “socialism with Chinese characteristics”]. Here [in China] only publishing houses under the leadership of the Party can issue publishing numbers (书号). Because for many years they’ve been trained a certain way, many harmful works are refused publishing numbers and cannot circulate. But there are also some bolder publishing houses, the ones that haven’t been trained so well, that go against the grain and publish works [others will not].
But the publishing of a book is just the beginning. Because of the post-publication censorship, some books are banned from sale after they’ve been quietly published despite this high-pressure environment. For example, the book Urban Dirge (城市挽歌). There are also books that [authorities] got wind of only after they were published, and which to this day sit in the warehouse — for example, Mr. Yu Jianrong’s (于建嵘) True Account of Anyuan (安源实录). . . . There are plenty of examples like this. . . For a book to be published is just the beginning. After that there is still a tortuous road ahead. And who can say that one day someone might just deal the final blow [to your book]. Under this sort of situation, you have to understand the fact that although Everybody in the World Knows has been published I cannot speak at signings as a part of the normal process of publishing [in China].
Authorities in Chengdu were worried because I have a lot of readers, and [they thought] if they weren’t careful they might have a mass incident on their hands. So it was out of a concern for stability that they made their decision. It makes no difference that in my view there is no connection whatsoever between these two.
When the several heavy-fisted orders came down that I sign in silence, the poet Li Yawei (李亚伟) and the scholar Ran Yunfei (冉云飞) were both there to witness it. In case you suppose these two, who are my friends, might speak untrue then let me tell you I also have an audio recording. I don’t think recording the unreasonable demands of public power is a base act at all. In any case, it is a good way to avoid these strange questions I’m now getting.
In all likelihood, you will find it base of me to have done so. I can only say by way of comparison that after suffering a rape it is a shame if you decide to destroy the physical evidence.
QUESTION: If things were that unreasonable, couldn’t you just have avoided book signings altogether?
ANSWER: My first response was to not go through with it. Everyone who was there at the time can vouch for what I said — basically, that this was an insult, and one’s dignity is more important than the selling of books. Why, otherwise, would I have said no to a substantial advance of the kind Lu Jinbo (路金波) gets? Why would I have opted for the Xinxing Publishing House (新星出版社), which couldn’t offer a cent but could promise to preserve the draft in relatively complete form? However, one of my friends made the compelling point that avoiding the signing was improper, that I had to consider my readers. A sudden cancellation of the book signing, they said, was irresponsible to my readers. How many readers had come from other places to take part? (Indeed, there were readers from Xi’an, Chongqing and even Shanghai there).
I remember very clearly that that night when I posed this question on Sina Weibo and asked, “What should I do?”, the majority of readers supported signing in silence as a form of silent protest . . . Some people even suggested that I hold the signing instead on the side of the street next to the bookstore. When I considered that suggestion my feeling was that this would seem to the authorities like a provocation. There was the risk that readers could come to harm. And I couldn’t turn an ordinary book signing into a street movement. This just wasn’t my character. Late that night a reader from Shanghai even went to a hotel near the bookstore to see if the signing could be held in the lobby. I wouldn’t agree to that. It would impact the normal business of the hotel, and people with sensitive nerves would claim I had orchestrated it this way, wanting purposely to cause trouble . . . I worried this problem over until very late and finally sought the advice of Tu Jia Ye Fu (土家野夫), who was far off overseas. He said, first ensure that your book gets out there and your ideas reach an audience, then see how it goes from there. This is the most important work of the writer, he said. What do other indignities matter?
In the balance, my decision was to sign in silence (默签). I don’t have powerful backing from anyone. I don’t have the support of insiders. I don’t have high-level leaders giving me the green light. All I could do was sign in silence. . .
QUESTION: Even though they didn’t allow you to speak, I don’t believe that if you had said something they really would have done anything. I still think you were just trying to put on a show.
ANSWER: This question is logically unsound. The forces that be were very strong in their insistence that I sign in silence. How is there any problem in my complying? But another important reason was that the two people responsible at the bookstore repeatedly pressed us on this point: if we violated the orders, even speaking a single sentence, they would both be let go from their jobs. This was a hard order sent down from the leaders. I didn’t entirely believe it, so I said, look, it can’t be that serious. They said very seriously to me: you can’t say a single word. The leader is waiting . . . for your answer right now. . . Li Yawei and Ran Yunfei also asked me to consider their situation [as well–known local dissidents who could face punishment or intimidation]. At around midnight that night, I asked one final time whether I could just say, “Happy New Year!”, or just introduce [the poet] Liu Shahe (流沙河), [who planned to attend the signing]. We pledged not to say a single thing having to do with ideology. But this boss from the bookstore said: No, if you say a single thing I’ll lose my job. Brother, please consider my position . . .

The new Party media, same as the old?

Months after he formally became General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, we still know virtually nothing about Xi Jinping. As Elizabeth Economy noted recently, “the sound of speculation around Xi [Jinping] has become deafening.”
Most everything we do know about Xi Jinping is “style” over substance. He has tried to project a more casual image, suggesting he is a new kind of leader — the kind that repudiates overabundance, whether on his dinner table or in his official speeches.
But how new and extraordinary is this really?


[ABOVE: China’s new propaganda chief, Liu Qibao, on a visit to the official People’s Daily on January 17.]
When I read the news in the official People’s Daily today that China’s new propaganda chief, Liu Qibao (刘奇葆), had visited the newspaper to promote the “innovation of reports” and urge state journalists to “improve their writing style,” it all felt very familiar. And of course it is. These are all things we heard 10 years ago after China’s last leadership succession.
Click here for the soundtrack to accompany the rest of this post:

Meet the new boss.
Same as the old boss.

Remember the “Three Closenesses“? Anyone?
Here is Li Changchun, the Politburo Standing Committee member in charge of ideology from 2002 to 2012, talking about Hu Jintao’s “Three Closeness” — closeness to 1. reality/fact (实际), 2. life (生活) and 3. the masses (群众) — in the Party’s official journal Qiushi in 2003. Let’s listen:

Closeness to reality demands that we follow the epistemology of Marxism, uphold [the principle] that all must begin with reality and [we] cannot, fundamentally, begin with concepts and not resolve real issues. Closeness to reality demands that we accommodate the receptive abilities of the masses, generating ideas and concepts that sit the basic economic system of the primary stage of socialism. [We] cannot jump beyond [our present] stage, forcing moralistic lessons on others that depart from [prevailing] reality. Closeness to reality means . . . [we] cannot depart from the main battlefield of reform and opening and modernization . . . Closeness to reality means speaking the truth (说实话), acting according to real principles and seeking real results. [We] cannot simply seek a surface vigor and vitality, engaging in formalism (搞形式主义).

Li Changchun is giving us a ten-course meal of Party-speak. But what he means to say is pretty much exactly what Xi Jinping has said. The Party needs to start talking the people’s talk, and it needs to put practical deeds ahead of pretense. Why? Because it needs to stay relevant and make a compelling case for its relevance.
So here is Liu Qibao at the People’s Daily in the People’s Daily, delivering the “spirit of the 18th National Congress” and saying in essence that things will now be as different as they have always been. And we must note that the report of his visit is itself unapologetically old-style, beginning with a breathless description of Liu Qibao’s rank and position:

Xinhua News Agency, Beijing, January 17, [2013] — On January 17, Political Bureau of CCP Central Committee Member, Secretariat of the Central Committee Member and Minister of Propaganda Liu Qibao made an inspection visit of the People’s Daily, emphasizing that [all] must center on the principal line of studying the spirit of the 18th National Congress, adhering to correct guidance (坚持正确导向), innovating [news] reports, improving the style of writing, raising the reach (传播力), credibility (公信力) and influence (影响力) of the news media, and strengthening the focus and effectiveness of public opinion channeling (舆论引导).


Essentially, Liu Qibao’s speech is an elaboration of the propaganda policy outlined by Hu Jintao back in June 2008. The foundation is Jiang Zemin’s “correct guidance of public opinion,” or zhengque yulun daoxiang (正确舆论导向), which is Party code for media control.
But in addition to “guidance,” the Party must recognize that the game has changed. Restricting information is no longer enough. The Party must drive the agenda actively, what Hu Jintao in 2008 called “channeling public opinion,” or yulun yindao (舆论引导). State media have to be on top of news stories and issues that people are concerned about, “channeling” information and discussion in line with the Party’s strategic objectives.
To “channel” public opinion effectively, of course, state media have to be more accessible and relevant, just what Li Changchun was talking about in 2003.
Here is Liu Qibao again at the People’s Daily:

Liu Qibao said the [we] must establish a news concept with people at the center (人民为中心的新闻理念), writing for readers, reporting for readers, making reports cleave closely to the demands of the reader (贴近读者需求) . . .

Once again, “closeness” and putting the people at the core. Things Party media have struggled to do for years as commercial media have made advances and the internet has upended the media environment.
There are some interesting specifics in Liu Qibao’s remarks. He says, for example, that the People’s Daily must develop its editorial page in order to strengthen its influence. But the Party’s elusive desire to get “close” to the people while putting news controls first is what we have seen now for more than a decade in China.
Is anything really changing on the propaganda front? We’ll have to wait and see.
Are China’s Party media kidding themselves. Will they get fooled again?

Sensitive Bo Xilai post remains, while re-post is deleted

The following post by Jing Hai Xin Yu (静海心语), a repost on a much earlier post from another user about ousted Chongqing secretary and prominent princeling Bo Xilai, was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 7:19am today, January 18, 2013. Jing Hai Xin Yu currently has just over 3,800 followers, according to numbers from Sina Weibo. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]
The original post from January 12, as yet undeleted, includes a picture of marchers apparently holding up a red sign that reads, “We will forever support the people’s secretary, Bo Xilai.” The photo is below. The text on the original post reads: “Even though Bo Xilai has been removed from his post, the ordinary people still believe he is a good [Party] secretary.”


The original post also links to a blog on the Sina platform that kicks up a message saying the post has already been deleted.
It is interesting to note that this topically sensitive original post about Bo Xilai on Sina Weibo is still available, but that the blog post and the re-post from Jing Hai Xin Yu have been deleted. Why would that be? One possible explanation is the fact that Jing Hai Xin Yu has more than 3,000 followers, while the original poster of the Bo Xilai text has just four followers.
The original Chinese-language post follows:

【抗命中宣部 新京报社长获中国年度传媒大奖】有风骨者,才会真正有影响力!日前带领报社挺《南方周末》、对宣传干预新闻自主说不的《新京报》社长戴自更,荣获金长城传媒奖2012中国传媒年度影响力人物。@南方周末@新京报@记者刘向南 @徐昕 @左小祖咒 @袁腾飞


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.

"Tea" is for Trouble


Early this month, on the eve of the Southern Weekly incident, news came that a number of prominent Weibo users had had their accounts suspended. They included Cheng Yizhong, the former editor-in-chief of Southern Metropolis Daily, activist Ran Yunfei, investigative reporter Shi Feike and cartoonist Kuang Biao. This week Kuang Biao has returned to Weibo with a new account. His first post, “Tea”, is a drawing of an empty interrogation chair, with a blazing naked bulb overhead casting the dark ominous hole of a shadow underneath. On the chair sits a cup of tea, a reference to “invited to tea,” a phrase that become synonymous with dissidents being taken in by state security for questioning and intimidation..

Weibo post on newspaper publisher deleted

The following post by China Strange News (中国奇闻) was deleted from Sina Weibo sometime before 6:45am today, January 17, 2013. The post shares the news reported by a number of overseas Chinese websites this week that Dai Zigeng, the publisher of The Beijing News recently rumored to have resigned in a stand-off with propaganda officials, has been given a mainland press award. China Strange News currently has just over 10,000 followers, according to numbers from Sina Weibo. [More on deleted posts at the WeiboScope Search, by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre]

【Resisting the Central Propaganda Department/Publisher of The Beijing News win media prize】Only those with strength of character can have true influence! Recently, the publisher of The Beijing News, Dai Zigeng (戴自更), who led his paper in supporting Southern Weekly and said NO to the propaganda officials, won the 2012 Influential Media Figures honor at the Golden Great Wall Media Awards (金长城传媒奖).


The original Chinese-language post follows:

【抗命中宣部 新京报社长获中国年度传媒大奖】有风骨者,才会真正有影响力!日前带领报社挺《南方周末》、对宣传干预新闻自主说不的《新京报》社长戴自更,荣获金长城传媒奖2012中国传媒年度影响力人物。@南方周末@新京报@记者刘向南 @徐昕 @左小祖咒 @袁腾飞

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.

Why Southern Weekly said "No"

In a talk here at the University of Hong Kong more than a month ago, I made the modest suggestion that two initial steps toward political reform in China might be more tolerant treatment of the media and greater respect for the rights of ordinary Chinese. In the discussion that followed several people objected to the feebleness of these hopes. “Shouldn’t we expect more?” they asked.
But over the past week, even these “feeble” hopes have faced powerful resistance in China. And never would I have guessed that the first test, and China’s first major news episode of 2013, would unfold at my old newspaper, Southern Weekly.
The standoff now dubbed the “Southern Weekly New Year’s greeting incident” (南周新年献词事件) was ignited by the callous intrusion of provincial propaganda authorities in Guangdong into the production of the newspaper’s New Year’s edition. In the backlash that followed, censorship was singled out for criticism.
For people who want to better understand the Southern Weekly incident, there are two pieces in particular that I recommend. The first, “The Party’s Suppression of the Media is Exposed” (中共钳制媒体揭秘), was written by former Southern Metropolis Daily editor-in-chief Cheng Yizhong (程益中). The second, “Who Revised the New Year’s Greeting at Southern Weekly” (究竟谁删改了南方周末新年献词), was written by Zeng Li (曾礼).
Zeng, in fact, was assigned to Southern Weekly as a content reviewer (审读员), and in the midst of the crisis he published a blog post that struck a counterblow to suggestions that provincial propaganda leaders had not been responsible for the blow up at Southern Weekly. Zeng offered conclusive evidence of censorship.
To be exact, China does not have (or typically has not had) the kind of censorship over copy that was the practice under the Kuomintang. Under Mao Zedong, the message in the media was entirely unified. In the Deng Xiaoping era there was at last talk of news reform (新闻改革), and one deputy propaganda minister even said at the time: “What newspapers do and don’t publish should be decided by newspapers themselves.”
In the aftermath of the June Fourth crackdown in 1989, however, media returned to a state of strict control. In the Jiang Zemin era, daily controls on news media were mostly exercised as “prior orders and bans” (事前禁令) and as “ex post facto punishment” (事后追惩).
Ban and Punish
When I served as executive deputy editor-in-chief of Southern Weekly from 1998 to 2001, I witnessed numerous “orders and bans” and repeated instances of “punishment.”
Orders and bans essentially delimit and confine your work before publication. They tell you what you can and cannot cover, and how. They may tell you also what you must cover. Punishment is generally meted out by the News Commentary Group (阅评组) of the propaganda department, which monitors media content, sending orders for discipline when “problems” are discovered after the fact.
During my time at Southern Weekly we routinely received ten or more “news commentaries” each year from the Central Propaganda Department. Each time this happened, the leaders up top — at our mother paper, the official Nanfang Daily — would suffer palpitations of anxiety. Any time a news commentary came we would be summoned to discuss the matter. We would put our heads together and determine whether a self-criticism was necessary, or whether some other disciplinary measure had to be taken.
My own fate, my removal as a top editor at Southern Weekly, was sealed once I had collected a fair number of these “news commentaries.” One troublesome report became the final straw, and so it was my turn to go.
Southern Weekly has enjoyed the protection of Guangdong’s provincial Party leadership in the past. But during those years I was at the paper, the situation grew steadily worse. Even at that time, though, there were never any instances of prior censorship exercised from outside the newspaper.
While at Southern Weekly I oversaw the creation of three New Year’s special issues. All were the work of the editorial office.
Prior Censorship Released From Its Cage
As Cheng Yizhong has noted, toward the end of the Jiang Zemin era the orders and bans of the propaganda department went underground. They were no longer delivered in written form.
After 2005, controls tightened. Following the creation in the early 1990s of the News Commentary Group, the Central Propaganda Department then formed a “content review system” (审读制度), placing “reviewers,” or shenduyuan (审读员), directly inside media regarded as strategically important. These reviewers would exercise prior censorship on media content. At the same time, a group of trusted propaganda officials were appointed as editors in chief at newspapers in order to take strict precautions.
As tight as things got — with every branch and blade of grass mistaken for the enemy — the attitude of propaganda officials toward those media seen as more outspoken was one of trepidation. The Central Propaganda Department became much more hands-on, displaying its power before newspapers like Southern Weekly.
Zeng Li, the reviewer at Southern Weekly, has revealed that since May 2012, when Tuo Zhen (庹震) became the new minister of propaganda for Guangdong province, the control and oversight of newspapers in Guangdong reached an extent previously unseen. The theme of each issue of Southern Weekly had to be reported to the provincial propaganda office, and editorial could only proceed after this had been approved.
Important news reports and editorials all had to go through a review process at the propaganda office before they could be published. There was even one instance in which notification of a report’s deletion came only after the newspaper had gone to press, so that hundreds of thousands of copies had to be destroyed. (Another friend at Southern Weekly says that there were in fact four cases in 2012 of reports being killed after the issue had gone to press).
The Five Cuts (连挨五刀)
The editorial process surrounding the 2013 New Year’s special edition of Southern Weekly is in fact a living specimen of news censorship in contemporary China. In the midst of this storm, the Professional Ethics Committee of Southern Weekly (新闻职业伦理委员会) released a version of the internal process involved in the creation the New Year’s edition. This account paints a reliable portrait of the rough intrusion of news censorship.
Having been involved in the New Year’s edition, I understand just how important it is as a mark of the Southern Weekly brand. The issue is highly anticipated by readers, and the process of getting the issue out is painstaking. this is especially true when everything you do is so carefully scrutinized.
Preparations for this issue began in early December. The theme agreed upon initially was “crossing the river,” a reference of course to Deng Xiaoping’s famous statement about the reform process as “crossing the river by feeling the stones.” The theme proposal was passed on to the paper’s editor-in-chief, Huang Can (黄灿), by the editorial office. It was mid-month before a response came back from Huang. He advised instead that the issue center around the idea of the “China Dream” (中国梦), a decision made entirely to appease propaganda leaders.
On December 23, the editorial office provided a written plan for the issue to Huang Can. On the 24th, Huang submitted the plan to provincial propaganda authorities. Importantly, this was the first time in the paper’s history that the New Year’s special edition was subjected to prior censorship.
In fact, this prior censorship of the Southern Weekly involved what we can call “five cuts” (身挨五刀), as follows:
FIRST CUT: Many proposed topics for the issue were rejected. On December 26, the first opinion came back from the provincial propaganda office. It dealt mostly with “people.” Many planned profiles of certain people had to be removed.
SECOND CUT: The New Year’s Greeting (新年献词) in the issue was delivered twice for review and revision by propaganda authorities. The original title of the Southern Weekly greeting was “China’s Dream, the Dream of Constitutionalism” (“中国梦,宪政梦”). Huang Can was unhappy with the editorial and so he made revisions and then sent it to propaganda authorities. The paper was then ordered to work on another draft, which was again submitted. The draft submitted on December 31 was cut down to 1,000 words. The title was, “We Are Closer to Our Dream Than Ever Before” (我们比任何时候都更接近梦想).
THIRD CUT: Major cuts were made to the inside pages of the special issue. On the night of December 31, as production of the issue was in its final stages, Huang Can conveyed further opinions from the propaganda office to the paper’s editors. An entire page was cut that included an end-of-the-year round up of major news stories. An order later came for the deletion of two more articles. The editors had no choice but to spend another two hours laying out the issue.
FOURTH CUT: There was an attempt to entirely supplant the front page of the issue. As the editors were laying out the page, Huang Can took a photo of the front page with his mobile phone and sent it to the propaganda office.
In the early hours of January 1, 2013, Huang Can suddenly informed the editors of the latest “opinion” from propaganda authorities. First, authorities said the front-page image from Chinese history of Yu the Great Taming the Waters was too dark — it might be misinterpreted, they said. It had to be replaced by an image of an aircraft carrier. Second, the words “China’s Dream, a Dream [Glimpsed Through] Adversity” (中国梦, 梦之难) could not be used for the front-page of the issue.
After hearing these instructions, the mood of the editors essentially collapsed. The deadline for signing off on the proofs had long since passed. Major changes were basically impossible. After some back and forth, it was agreed that the image could stay. The headline was changed to “Homeland Dreams” (家国梦).
FIFTH CUT: This was the last and most serious cut, and it happened after the entire production process had finished. At around 3 a.m. on January 1, with work finally finished, the editors responsible for the special issue signed the pages. The deputy editor was the last to sign before the proofs went off to the printer. The editors then switched off their mobiles and went home.
At first light, the editor-in-chief and deputy editor-in-chief were called back to the provincial propaganda office and ordered to make further changes to the issue. The focus was on the front-page and the annual greeting. Provincial propaganda authorities said they wanted introductory remarks added to the front page. These words were attributed to Guangdong’s propaganda chief, Tuo Zhen (庹震), once the incident had boiled over onto China’s internet.
Based on what we know now, it is likely the introductory remarks were dictated orally by the deputy propaganda minister, Yang Jian (杨健), and transcribed by the deputy editor-in-chief before being sent back by mobile for a final approval. The final, final version of the introductory remarks was then sent back by propaganda authorities for publication.
It is not yet clear exactly who finalized the text, which included grade-school errors — referring, for example, to the historical episode of Yu the Great Taming the Waters as occurring 2,000 years ago. In fact, Yu the Great lived between 2,200 and 2,100 B.C.. You do the math.
Still unsatisfied, authorities also turned again to the New Year’s greeting (which, remember, had been censored three times already). Several lines were removed and around 100 words added. One casualty of this final draft was the last surviving instance of the word “constitutionalism,” the idea at the heart of the original. Additions to the greeting included language pulled directly from the political report to the recent 18th National Congress — “[We have] confidence in our theory, confidence in our path and confidence in our system.”
On the night of January 1, provincial propaganda authorities ordered that the title of the special issue be changed to “Seeking Dreams” (追梦). With the editorial staff now off duty, it was now up to the editor-in-chief and deputy editor-in-chief of Southern Weekly to head to the print room and carry out the final instructions.
I ask any of my fellow Chinese journalists to consider as they read this account: Have you ever seen such an editorial process as this? I am plenty familiar with the process of media control in China, but I find this case astounding! Is there anything these controls don’t fuss about? Content plans. Issues. Specific topics. Drafts. Photos . . . Everything, absolutely everything, must serve the goals of the propaganda office. And the journalists and editors of the newspaper are little more than servants to be ordered around. The staff at Southern Weekly labored through exhaustion day after day, not to put out the best issue of the newspaper possible but to deal with the tortuous whims of propaganda officials. These controls are like a nightmare that goes on day after day, month after month.
Southern Weekly is a commercial product — even though, naturally, it is a special kind of product. Southern Weekly is a commercially operating enterprise whose boss ultimately is the Chinese Communist Party. But China today already has a “modern enterprise system” (现代企业制度). Look at today’s state-run enterprises. Can Party leaders trifle as they please with the managers of these enterprises? Can they just head over and poke their fingers into the operation of these businesses? Of course not. But such chronic symptoms of the planned economy are still very much alive within today’s system of news and propaganda.
The First “No”
The Southern Weekly incident is important first and foremost because it exposes what has been happening behind the scenes. Over a period of several years, media controls have been transforming and becoming much stricter. Methods of prior censorship have been applied shamelessly in the darkness.
In recent years, devoted readers of Southern Weekly have bemoaned the fact that the newspaper has been less strong and less critical, that it has been missing altogether from many major stories. Increased doses of official jargon and empty talk in its pages has not gone unnoticed.
Former Southern Weekly reporter Li Haipeng (李海鹏) wrote on Chinese social media recently: “I arrived at Southern Weekly in 2002 and left in 2009. I saw for myself that there wasn’t a day that the paper didn’t struggle under strict control. It was like a tree that would lose a branch today and another tomorrow . . . ”
Readers of Southern Weekly had no way of knowing how much truth had been buried by the heavy hand of prior censorship — how many sparks had been snuffed out.
The staff at Southern Weekly had suffered long. But this time they hit their limit. Their demands were specific. They wanted a rollback of prior censorship. They wanted editors to have autonomy again.
Propaganda leaders may be more careful after this showdown over censorship. But the road to freedom of expression as guaranteed in Article 35 of China’s Constitution will be a long one. The orders and bans will continue. Punishments will still await those who step too far over the line.
But we can say that things have begun. For the first time, the word “NO” has resounded within China’s media system. The game of competing interests we saw played out this week was like none we have seen before.
My hope is that China’s leaders will have the wisdom to distinguish between those who desire and support a fresh approach to governance, and those whose disgusting actions only create anger and mistrust.
The time has come for greater tolerance of the media. The time has come to be more respectful of the people’s rights. On the issue of political reform, we can delay no longer.

Porridge in support of Southern Weekly

As we reported earlier today, journalists at The Beijing News sent a strong message of support to their colleagues in south China yesterday when they chose (against an explicit directive) not to publish the hardline Global Times editorial on the Southern Weekly incident. The paper, apparently brought to heel, finally ran the editorial today.
But the spirit of principled resistance is still very much alive at The Beijing News, and it can be glimpsed in this piece posted online today in the paper’s lifestyle section — a classic example of the time-honored practice of conveying deeper meaning through sublime and ambiguous writing, or chunqiu bifa (春秋笔法).
The piece is a loving tribute, yes, to porridge. In particular, to the porridge of the south. But it is really a song of love and support from The Beijing News to similarly embattled colleagues at Southern Weekly.
In Chinese, the word for “porridge,” zhou (粥), is a homophone of the first character in “weekend,” zhoumo (周末), the second half of Southern Weekly‘s publication name. The shorthand for Southern Weekly is nanzhou (南周), which sounds very similar to “porridge of the south,” or nanfang de zhou (南方的粥).
“Zhou,” also known as congee, is a food eaten widely in Guangdong and Hong Kong.
A selected translation follows:

Hot porridge in an earthen pot, hailing from [China’s] southland. Just placed upon the table, the porridge writhes still with heat. Perhaps it has a heart of courage yet. In the deep of the cold night, you open your mouth and white steam billows. There are so many troubles in this world, and all you can count on for warmth is this bowl of porridge.
It is said that this year is the coldest winter for decades . . . from the south all the way to the north — like a person chilled from head to foot. In the lingering cold of the night, what can offer us a bit of warmth and comfort?
  
Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is a steaming hot bowl of porridge. And there is nothing better than the earthen pot porridge of the south.
. . .
  
Just a bowl of porridge, but in this bitter winter, we gather round this bowl of porridge and warm ourselves. This food bears the weight of hope. In olden times, running porridge shops was a tradition passed down for generations. Porridge can bring us prosperity. It can satisfy our hunger. Perhaps a bowl of porridge seems not worth talking about — and yet, how many destitute and homeless has it saved.
Hot porridge in an earthen pot, hailing from [China’s] southland. Just set upon the table, the porridge still writhes with heat. Perhaps it still has a heart of courage. In the deep of the cold night, you open your mouth and white steam billows. There are so many cares in the world, and all you can count on for warmth is this bowl of porridge. A bowl of hot porridge tells us of the power of love and consolation.


China's censorship row takes another ugly turn

We were hearing late yesterday that negotiations were going ahead in Guangdong that might enable Southern Weekly to return to its former status quo, bringing to a close the one-week standoff between newspaper staff and overbearing local propaganda leaders. The big news today is that the Southern Weekly incident has claimed its first professional casualty, with the resignation of Dai Zigeng (戴自更) as publisher of The Beijing News in protest of a propaganda order forcing Chinese newspapers to run a hardline editorial from the Global Times.
[UPDATE 5pm: SCMP is now reporting that Dai’s resignation was “verbal” and it is uncertain whether this has been accepted by Beijing propaganda authorities. Note, the authorities have a strong interest in maintaining Dai’s presence as publisher until this boils over. What we need is word from Dai himself.]
Like Southern Weekly, The Beijing News is recognized as one of China’s top professional newspapers. It also has a familial relationship to Southern Weekly, having been originally launched by former Southern Metropolis Daily editor-in-chief Cheng Yizhong (程益中) as a joint venture between the Nanfang Media Group and Guangming Daily.
In one of the biggest China media stories of 2011, The Beijing News was transfered to direct control by Beijing’s municipal Party committee, essentially knocking it down an administrative rank and making it more difficult for the paper to report more sensitive local stories in the capital.
According to one version of yesterday’s events, The Beijing News received a visit from a Beijing city-level propaganda official after it refused to publish the Global Times editorial, which appeared in many papers across the country (and had been pasted across the internet the day before). The official reportedly threatened to dissolve the newspaper if it did not comply with the central-level order to run the Global Times piece.
After receiving this warning, The Beijing News held a staff vote to decide whether or not to comply with the propaganda order. The vote was in favor of “not reprinting” (拒绝转载). Soon after, Dai Zigeng submitted his resignation to local propaganda authorities and the mood inside the paper was reportedly dismal, with many staffers in tears.


[ABOVE: Dai Zigeng resigned as publisher of The Beijing News yesterday over a propaganda order instructing media to run a hardline editorial from the Global Times.]
The pressure from Beijing propaganda leaders continued, however, and the decision was eventually made late last night — by exactly whom is not yet clear — to run the Global Times editorial in today’s edition. The editorial appears on Page 20 under the headline, “Global Times Runs Editorial on the Southern Weekly Incident.”

We’ll keep our eye on this case and share anything we can at the earliest possible opportunity.