Earlier this week, a prominent headline on the homepage of People’s Daily Online announced new regulations from the General Office of the Chinese Communist Party placing stronger restrictions on the business activities of the partners and children of Chinese officials – and that, moreover, a commentary on the subject had been written by “Zhong Zuwen” (仲祖文).

Who was this mystery writer, and what made their appearance so noteworthy? We might picture a hardened senior anti-corruption official putting pen to paper and sounding off about the need for tougher governance: “Strengthening the management of the commercial activities and businesses of the spouses and children of leading cadres is an important political task set by the CCP Central Committee,” the commentary read.

But “Zhong Zuwen” is not a person at all. The byline is just a pen name, an onion-skin layer of brittle pretense covering over an obvious homophone. In fact, this is the piece of writing from the Party office in charge of staffing positions, the zhongyang zuzhi bu (中央组织部). The “wen” at the tail end is Chinese for “article” – so that taken together the nom de plume becomes: “article of the Organization Department of the CCP.”

Such “propaganda codes,” or “homophonous pen names,” are in fact quite common in the Party-state media, and in the halls of power. They form an internal system of not-so-secret codes by which those in positions of power, both departments and individuals, can voice their official positions and put their stamp on a course or policy.

Once you understand how to parse the names, they seem to crop up everywhere.

A Party Unit by Any Other Name

On Friday last week, days before the “Zhong Zuwen” piece made its appearance on page two of the People’s Daily, another commentary made the rounds in state media attributed to a certain “Wang Xingping” (王兴平). The article praised Xi Jinping’s persistence with China’s “dynamic zero” approach to Covid, and as we noted in our analysis at CMP, the commentary resorted to the Mao-era concept of “policies of greater benevolence” (大仁政) to justify suffering under constant lockdowns.

Who wrote this piece of sycophantic loyalty signaling? The article first appeared on the WeChat public account “CAC China” (网信中国), which is run by the China Cyberspace Research Center (中国网络空间研究院) of the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC), the powerful internet control body. “Wang” (王) is one of the most common Chinese surnames. But it is also a homophone of “wang” (网), the word for “net” or “network.” “Xing” (兴), meaning to “rise” or “flourish,” is a homophone of “xin” (信), the first character of the word “information.” Finally, “ping” (平), meaning “peaceful,” is a homophone of the first character of the word “commentary,” pinglun (评论).

“Wang Xingping,” then, stands in for “commentary of the Cyberspace Administration of China” (网信办评论). Beginning to see how the game works?

In both of the above cases, these commentaries would most likely have been written by “writing teams,” or xiezuozu (写作组), within the respective offices, the Organization Department and the CAC. They would then be circulated to top officials – perhaps even, in the case of the CAC, to Zhuang Rongwen (庄荣文), who in the past has placed Xi beside Mao – who would offer feedback and suggest changes.

Pen names backed by such “writing teams” include the Zhong brothers, “Zhong Xuanli” (钟轩理) of the Theory Office of the Central Propaganda Department (中宣部理论局), and “Zhong Zhengxuan” (钟政轩) of the Central Political and Legal Affairs Commission (中央政法委). There is “Wei Minkang” (卫民康), the team writing soaring CCP prose for the Ministry of Health (卫生部).

At the People’s Daily, there are writing teams, no doubt with overlapping members (写作组组员), for various themes and intensities. There is Mr. Important, “Ren Zhongping” (任仲平), reserved for “important People’s Daily commentaries” (人民日报重要评论) – this being the homophone. There is Ms. Make-It-Better, “He Zhenhua” (何振华), whose commentaries deal with “how to revitalize China” (如何振兴中华) – again the homophone.

Crucially in the era of tense relations between China and the United States, there is Mr. Miffed, “Zhong Sheng” (钟声) – literally “bell tone,” but also a homophone of “China + voice” – the official pen name used routinely for important pieces on international affairs on which the leadership wishes to register its often scathing view. Finally, there is Zhong Sheng’s slightly calmer cousin, “Guo Jiping” (国纪平), standing for “important commentaries about international [affairs]” (有关国际的重要评论), who sounds off just a bit more rationally from the paper’s international desk, but who can rarely resist the emotional finish: “No one can stop the historical course of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation!”

Struggling with Secret Codes

In a 2013 paper on “writing teams” for The China Quarterly, Taiwanese scholars Wen-Hsuan Tsai (蔡文轩) and Peng-Hsiang Kao (高鹏翔) wrote that “the pseudonyms of the Party unit writing teams function as a form of secret code.” This code works, they said, to alert other Party officials to the views of certain departments or units. In the late reform era, these codes, or pen names, became more regular, what Tsai and Peng refer to as a “process of institutionalization.” Consider that “Guo Jiping,” the international affairs writing team at the People’s Daily, was first introduced in October 2005, in a piece about the 60^th anniversary of the United Nations. It has since then appeared 104 times, the latest just last Saturday.   

In the past, however, these pen-named commentaries, written by teams and powerful individuals, have marked points of struggle and strife within the CCP.

One of the earliest pen names was “Ding Xuelei” (丁学雷), first used in early 1966 by a Shanghai writing team controlled by polemicist Zhang Chunqiao (张春桥) and cultural critic Yao Wenyuan (姚文元), both members of the radical political alliance that would later become known as the “Gang of Four.”  Attacks by “Ding Xuelei” on prominent writers in February 1966 were some of the earliest signs of the violence and chaos that would be unleashed later that spring as the Cultural Revolution began in earnest.

On February 12, 1966, Shanghai’s Liberation Daily ran a commentary in which “Ding Xuelei” savaged Hai Rui Submits His Memorial (海瑞上疏), a play by Peking opera actor Zhou Xinfang (周信芳) that tells the story of a principled Ming Dynasty official who speaks out against the actions of a cruel and self-indulgent emperor. Some at the time saw Zhou’s play, along with Wu Han’s Hai Rui Criticizes the Emperor (海瑞骂皇帝), as an allegory about Mao’s purge of Peng Dehuai (彭德怀) during the Lushan Conference for speaking out against the errors of the Great Leap Forward.

On May 28, 1966, nearly two weeks after the May 16 Notification, which directly mentioned Wu Han’s play, the People’s Daily maintained the pretense that “Ding Xuelei” was a human being. Of Ding Xuelei’s February screed in the Liberation Daily, the paper wrote that “Comrade Ding Xuelei’s article correctly unveiled, adequately unveiled and powerfully unveiled” the fact that Zhou Xinfang’s play, like that of Wu Han, was a “poisonous weed against the Party and the socialist system.” The play had “pointed its spearhead at our great Party.”

The “Gang of Four,” which included Mao Zedong’s fourth wife, Jiang Qing (江青), excelled at the creation and weaponizing of pen names. Another was “Liang Xiao” (梁效), a homophone of “two schools” (两校), marking commentaries written by a writing team comprising people from Peking University and Tsinghua University.  These writings were commanded by Mao and Jiang, as were those of “Tang Xiaowen” (唐晓文), a homophone of “Party School writing” (党校文), marking the work of the “Central Party School Writing Team” (中央党校写作组).

Cutting Down the Poisonous Weeds

As the “Gang of Four” were arrested in October 1976, just weeks after Mao’s death, these poisonous pen names were unmasked. In the years that followed, writers like Zhou Xinfang and Wu Han were rehabilitated (though both had died under persecution years earlier).

In September 1978, the People’s Daily decried the bitter criticism of Zhou Erfu’s (周而复) novel Morning in Shanghai (上海的早晨) in a 1969 article by “Ding Xuelei” that had appeared in the paper’s own pages. “The Great Poisonous Weed that Sounded the Gong for Liu Shaoqi’s Restoration of Capitalism,” the headline had read. “Ding Xuelei” was referred to by then as “a pen name for that counter-revolutionary deployment force of the Gang of Four, the Shanghai Committee Writing Team” (上海市委写作组).

In an indictment of the “counter-revolutionary group” that included Lin Biao (林彪), Jiang Qing, Zhang Chunqiao, Yao Wenyuan and others, published in the People’s Daily on November 21, 1980, Jiang, Zhang and Yao were singled out for “leading writing teams that included ‘Liang Xiao’ of Peking University and Tsinghua University, ‘Luo Siding’ (罗思鼎) of Shanghai, ‘Chi Heng’ (池恒) of the Red Flag journal, and ‘Tang Xiaowen’ of the Central Party School.”

The next month, Yao Wenyuan was quoted as having confessed before his court of accusers: “I asked them to write.”

But even as China left the Cultural Revolution behind and began a slow transformation, the pen name remained as a secret code for the voices of the powerful. On November 14, 1979, a front-page commentary appeared in the People’s Daily called, “We Can Talk About Political Issues Too.” Bylined “Guo Luoji” (郭罗基), the piece appeared against the backdrop of internal Party division over the so-called Democracy Wall protests (1978-1979) and the arrest of activist Wei Jingsheng (魏京生). It argued, as Wei languished in prison, that “no one should be held guilty for speaking out” (言者无罪).

The article incensed Hu Qiaomu (胡乔木) and other CCP hardliners. But as the former People’s Daily editor-in-chief Hu Jiwei (胡绩伟) revealed in 2004, it had in fact been reviewed and edited by the liberal senior official Hu Yaobang (胡耀邦).

Writing teams continued to play an important role in secret code writing after 1979, one of the most outstanding examples being the “Huangfu Ping” (皇甫平) team, which published a series of commentaries in support of reform policies in 1991 and 1992, ahead of Deng Xiaoping’s “southern tour.” The articles, in a series called “Reform and Liberalization Need New Thinking,” were written by a team that included the veteran newspaper editor Zhou Ruijin (周瑞金). They played a crucial role in arguing for continued openness and reform in the wake of the 1989 Tiananmen Massacre, which had ushered in a period of relative isolation and conservatism.

Why “Huangfu Ping”? The pen name derives from two homophones, the first meaning “Huangpu River commentaries” (黄浦江评论), a reference to the river running through Shanghai, a key city on the “tour,” and the second meaning “assisting Deng Xiaoping” (辅助邓小平).

A Secret Code for Political Reform

In late October 2010, shortly after the Fifth Plenum of the 17^th Central Committee, and at a time when there was more urgent talk of the need for substantive political reform to grapple with long-term economic development and social inequality, a series of commentaries placed prominently in the People’s Daily and at People’s Daily Online prompted widespread speculation. They appeared under the byline “Zheng Qingyuan” (郑青原), which many internet users surmised was a writing team, and a homophone for “clearing up the source and getting to the bottom of things” (正本清源).

Five articles from “Zheng Qingyuan” appeared in total, the first on October 21, 2010, and the last on November 2. The most outspoken of these, “Promoting Reform with Greater Determination and Courage,” twice mentioned the term “political reform” (政治体制改革), including a forward-looking statement about the need for the CCP to “actively and steadily promote political reform.”

The writings of “Zheng Qingyuan,” which clearly suggested the need to grapple with China’s challenges at the root, surely came from senior officials in the Politburo Standing Committee. Given Premier Wen Jiabao’s repeated references through 2011 and 2012 to the urgent need for political reform, he is impossible to exclude as a key figure behind the pen name.

Since coming to power in late 2012, Xi Jinping has shown an entirely different face, and in retrospect it is difficult to imagine that he too endorsed the words of “Zheng Qingyuan.”

Talk of political reform and constitutionalism has all but disappeared since 2013 – the latter appearing not at all and the former appearing only in references to the past, including the resolution on history introduced in November last year. For Xi, the solution to China’s future lies in the rule of the CCP with himself at the helm and at the “core.” And to accomplish his objectives, he must ensure that the Party is protected from its own excesses, that its “leading cadres” are loyal and clean, and their family members blameless.

Just ask “Zhong Zuwen.”

Since early May, when Xi Jinping said during a meeting of the Politburo Standing Committee (PSC) that China must “persist” in its “dynamic zero” (动态清零) policy toward the containment of Covid-19, the message has remained clear – stream-rolling over criticism of the painful impact the approach has had on the lives of individuals, families, residential compounds and entire cities.

“Dynamic zero” is here to stay. State media have argued consistently that the policy not only cuts viral transmission in the shortest time possible domestically, but also that it has “brought tangible benefits to the whole world.” This despite the fact that lockdowns have persisted in waves in cities like Shanghai, with a broad and undeniable impact on local businesses and government finances that will have a ripple effect globally.

This week, as state media pundits stretched for justifications of a policy that has continued to draw domestic and international criticism, one commentator called up a rhetorical ghost from China’s Maoist past: “policy of greater benevolence” (大仁政).

What does this phrase mean?

The Long and the Short

This “policy of greater benevolence” notion was first raised by Mao Zedong in September 1953 during a speech about China’s “victory” in the Korea War that also addressed the war’s human and financial costs. A stalemate had been reached that summer, and the Korean Armistice Agreement signed in July. But there were apparently grumblings in China about hefty taxes on agricultural production. “Certain friends,” said Mao, “had spoken.”  

Mao went on to explain to his fellow Party leaders that these “certain friends” had spoken of the need to implement benevolent policies (施仁政) – “as though,” he said snidely, “they represent the interests of the peasants.” On the question of benevolent policies, he explained, this was already being done.

But what is the greatest benevolence? It is the resistance to the United States. To implement this policy of greatest benevolence, there must be sacrifice, and this means using money, and it means collecting more agricultural taxes. You collect more agricultural taxes and some people cry out, and say this stuff about how they are representing the interests of farmers. I do not agree with this opinion.

In a nutshell, achieving longer-term strategic goals required sacrifice, and sometimes this sacrifice was painful. Nevertheless, the policies necessary to achieve these goals, however they might lead to short-term misfortune, could be considered benevolent. Mao then outlined for the first time his view on the two types of benevolence in policy-making:

There are two kinds of benevolent policies: one is for the current interests of the people, and the other is for the long-term interests of the people, such as fighting against the United States and building heavy industries. The former kind is a policy of lesser benevolence, and the latter is a policy of greater benevolence.

Mao’s logic of the “greater benevolence” was a sledgehammer to pulverize all dissent over the pain caused by his policies. In the pursuit of long-term vision – always the exclusive prerogative of the visionary leader – all short-term costs could be justified as being in the interests of the people. Why should we concern ourselves with “policies of lesser benevolence” (小仁政) when we can cast our vision to the future, to “policies of greater benevolence” (大仁政)?

The Benevolence” of Dynamic Zero

On June 15, 2022, “CAC China” (网信中国), the official WeChat public account of the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC), ran a commentary bearing the byline “Wang Xingping” (王兴平) that again defended “dynamic zero.” Even as the piece acknowledged that the policy remains a “hot topic” on social media platforms, where Chinese have vented plenty of homegrown outrage, it could not resist denouncing “those with ulterior motives in America and the West” who have dared to question its wisdom.

The “CAC China” post was re-posted at People’s Daily Online and scores of other websites, both party-state and private.

After affirming the “entire correctness” of the Covid policies implemented by the CCP “with Comrade Xi Jinping as the core,” the commentary explained the legitimacy of the “dynamic zero” using the language of benevolent policymaking first introduced by Mao Zedong (a leader Xi has been at pains to emulate):

Comrade Mao Zedong profoundly described the principle of the ‘small benevolent policy’ and the ‘great benevolent policy’ at the 24^th Conference of the Central People’s Government [in 1953], emphasizing that there are two types of benevolent policymaking. One is to about the immediate interests of the people, and the other is about the long-term interests of the people. The former is ‘policy of lesser benevolence,’ and the latter is ‘policy of great benevolence.’ The two must be balanced, and to not balance them is wrong. So where should the priority be? The priority should be on the policy of greater benevolence.

China’s epidemic prevention and control approach, said the commentary, was “at present a matter of the overall situation and the long-term” – “a ‘policy of greater benevolence’ for the fundamental interests of the people.”

It is worth noting that Mao’s sledgehammer of benevolent policymaking has not been seen in China’s official discourse for a very, very long time. The last time it appeared in the People’s Daily, in fact, was an article on May 19, 1977, on the study of The Collected Works of Mao Zedong.

When it comes to justifying persistence in China’s current Covid-19 policies, the CCP is really scraping the bottom of the discourse barrel.

With the 20^th National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party just months away, we can expect to divine certain shifts in the official discourse at the highest levels. It is a time of speculation and uncertainty. Like anxious spectators in St. Peter’s Square, watching the tiny chimney atop the roof of the Sistine Chapel, we can only fix our eyes on the People’s Daily. White smoke. Black Smoke.

This may seem an imperfect analogy. But China’s politics are as sealed as a conclave. And no one reading the party-state media closely these days can fail to note the devotional quality of much of the language.

The China Media Project has noted previously that one of the most important shifts to observe is the continued elevation of that unwieldy banner term, “Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for the New Era.” For the general secretary to be “crowned” this way in 2017, with the inclusion of his name in a guiding ideology written into the Party Charter, was no small achievement. But the man’s ambition is for Mao-style pontifical grandeur, and he surely covets the condensed “Xi Jinping Thought” (习近平思想) – a rhetorical gem to secure his power and prestige.

So, what news from the conclave? Is the discourse moving Xi Jinping further toward his crowning achievement?

Holding the Keys to Marxism

Over the weekend and into this week, several smoke signals of interest have emerged. June 11 brought the first wisps in the form of a page-four article in the People’s Daily relaying recent remarks made from Huang Kunming (黄坤明), director of the Central Propaganda Department and a close associate of Xi’s.

In a speech to a forum in Jiangxi province last Friday on the study and implementation of “Xi Thought” (my shortening), Huang reportedly said that the banner concept is “based on Chinese practice and rooted in Chinese soil,” and that it “has put forward a series of landmark new ideas, new perspectives and new assertions, leading the Party and the state in making historic achievements and changes.” Xi’s theories had not only laid the foundation for change in China, but amounted, said Huang, to “a new leap in the Sinicization of Marxism.”

The significance of Huang’s remarks lies in the act of flattery itself. This is a textbook example of what is called in Chinese biaotai (表态), or “loyalty signaling.” While it is something we have seen from a number of local CCP leaders in recent months, Huang Kunming’s act of biaotai is more senior-level – exactly the sort of thing we should expect to see, barring a reversal of fortunes for Xi, as the CCP Congress draws nearer.

But the emphasis on Xi as an innovator of Marxism deserves attention too. It is an important aspect of the man’s progressive elevation beyond the grasp of worldly politics, and into the spiritual realm of historic greatness. Just as Mao’s adaptation of Marxism to local conditions made possible an historic victory in the “new democratic revolution,” so too does Xi’s bold innovation of Marxism in the 21^st century mark him as a revolutionary leader in his own right, with the theoretical heft needed to meet the challenges of a “New Era.”

We are accustomed to talking of “Xi Jinping Thought” as an act of crowning, or guanming (冠名). But this claim to Marxist innovation is more than earthly; it is spiritual. It promises transcendence beyond the untidy plane of immediate politics and policy. Two years ago, He Yiting (何毅亭), the deputy director of the Central Party School, went so far as to claim on the front page of the Study Times journal that Xi Jinping’s banner term was not only a fresh vision of Chinese Marxism, but in fact “Marxism for the 21st century.”

Huang Kunming’s is one important voice from the conclave. And if Xi Jinping can manage to be anointed as the pontiff of global Marxism – as the keeper of the keys – then he becomes far more difficult to touch.

Xi Jinping in the Soul

The propaganda chief’s bow to the general secretary was followed on Monday by a full-page spread in the People’s Daily that delivered the complimentary remarks of a further six senior CCP officials. These too had been made at the Jiangxi forum. A note introducing them stressed that understanding the immensity of “Xi Thought” was a crucial matter of “enhancing political and theoretical consciousness” for CCP members.  

Leading the group of kingmakers was Yi Qinhong (易炼红), the top Party leader of Jiangxi province, and the local host of the event. The subhead announcing Yi’s remarks could hardly have been clearer in its signaling simultaneously of the need for both the crown and the halo. “Leading the Reform and Development of Jiangxi with the Banner of Thought and the Banner of Spirit,” it read.   

“Ideas are power, and banners are direction,” the tribute began. Here it was again, the dualism of loyalty and faith so essential to the elevation of Xi Jinping.

For some, this pairing may be familiar as encoded in another key phrase, the “Two Establishes” (两个确立). That phrase emerged during the Sixth Plenum last year, which brought the CCP’s powerful third resolution on its history. One important passage read:

For the Party to establish the status of Comrade Xi Jinping as the core of the Party’s Central Committee and of the whole Party, and to establish the guiding role of Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for the New Era, expresses the deepest wishes of the whole Party, the whole military, and the peoples of the whole country.

This language encodes the dual necessity of power in two unshakeable principles: 1) that Xi Jinping must be the single, unquestionable leader of the Party, and that 2) his ideas must be taken as the Party’s gospel, the source of its legitimacy in the 21st century.

It is no surprise, therefore, when Yi Qinhong says, with all the reverence of a supplicant, that we must “profoundly comprehend the decisive significance of the ‘Two Establishes.'” Immediately after, he stresses that the “Two Safeguards” (两个维护) – the preservation of Xi’s “core” status and CCP rule –  should “enter our veins, and be cast into our souls.”

Great Leaps for Marxism

Huang Kunming spoke about “Xi Thought” as “a new leap in the Sinicization of Marxism.” In the joint remarks appearing on Monday in the People’s Daily, every one of these powerful men spoke of the same “leap,” or feiyue (飞跃) – which might also be translated “breakthrough.” In this they were taking their cues again from the November resolution, which uses the word to mark the immense significance of Xi’s ideas.

Printed just to the right of Yi Qinhong’s remarks were those of Wang Weiguang (王伟光), a member of the Standing Committee of the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC). Mao Zedong, said Wang, had made the “first historic leap in the Sinicization of Marxism,” followed by the key leaders of the reform era, Deng Xiaoping, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. These three are huddled together in Wang’s remarks, reducing their collective stature. Xi Jinping, meanwhile, is in a league of his own. Since the 18^th National Congress of the CCP in 2012, we are told, Xi has achieved, single-handedly, yet another “new leap” in the Sinicization of Marxism.

There are few notable differences in the substance of the six tributes. But the crucial point is the ceremony itself. When Fu Hua (傅华), the newly-appointed president and CCP chief of Xinhua News Agency, makes the grandiose claim in the next speech that “Xi Jinping Thought” is the “most important crystallization of human thought in our time,” this is not the conviction of a thinker; it is the declaration of a man of faith.

Fu is followed at Xi Jinping’s feet by Shi Taifeng (石泰峰), the top official at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS); Xia Weidong (夏伟东), the publisher of Seeking Truth journal (which for months on end has dutifully headlined itself with Xi wisdom); Fang Jiangshan (方江山), deputy editor-in-chief of the People’s Daily; and Zhuang Zhaolin (庄兆林), the head of the provincial propaganda department of Jiangxi.

Practical Acts of Deference

The forum in Jiangxi, dealing topically with “Xi Jinping Thought,” was an opportunity for collective biaotai. But similar acts of obeisance should follow across the country as the fall Congress draws nearer. And there were further hints on Tuesday, as Li Qiang (李强), Shanghai’s top leader and long a close ally of Xi, hosted a forum to celebrate past visits to the city by the general secretary.

A readout of the event posted the same day on the government’s official WeChat public account, “Shanghai Release” (上海发布), stressed the need to “steadily enhance loyalty to the ‘Two Establishes,’” “maintaining a high-level of uniformity in thought, politics and action with the CCP Central Committee with Comrade Xi Jinping as the core.”

It was essential, said Li Qiang, for officials to “take practical action to greet the successful opening of the 20th Party Congress.” His act of loyalty signaling this week was an example of practical action. So far, he has seemed unbruised, at least within the Party, by the extreme failures of the lockdown in Shanghai. His fortunes will be something to observe closely as the year progresses. Will his deference to Xi be repaid, or will he be viewed as a liability?

Acts of deference and reverence should continue apace in the coming weeks, as we cross the threshold of the July 1 CCP anniversary (expect robust commemoration of last year’s commemoration) and head toward the Congress that could decide the direction of Chinese politics for a generation to come.

In another hint of smoke yesterday, Le Yucheng (乐玉成), the new head of the National Radio and Television Administration (NRTA), emphasized the imperative of loyalty to Xi Jinping when he said that officials must “focus on the core, maintain the core, and promote the core.” This again might have been a practical act of loyalty signaling. Until recently, Le was a deputy minister of foreign affairs. His sudden move to the NRTA could be read as a demotion, suggesting his work in the foreign ministry had left something to be desired.  

At such political moments, acts of faith and contrition befit the acolyte. And so Le Yucheng said at the training session that it was important for his ministry, overseeing the ideological fronts of television and radio, to steadily lift its chin to the heavens, acting as “a firm believer and active disseminator of the latest theoretical achievements in the Sinicization of Marxism.”