言论自由 Freedom of speech in China

Ever since my first class while studying abroad at Peking University a few years ago, I have been amazed by how much freedom of speech there is in China. There are of course limits, most noticeably if you are publishing something in book, article, or blog form, and I've written recently about the limits of academic freedom. But otherwise, if you're not speaking in a public setting, you can say pretty much anything you want.

The original surprising incident for me was that our first class topic in an international relations class at PKU was the 1989 Tiananmen protests. Of course, it was a class taught in English of mostly foreigners, with a few Chinese students thrown in, and I'm pretty sure the professor, who received his phd in the US, chose the topic intentionally to destroy all previous notions we had about freedom of expression in China. He certainly succeeded. One of the Chinese IR majors in the class said that they did discuss this incident in her Chinese classes as well.

The recent incident was at my university's new years/end of the semester party. The opening act (Chinese parties are basically a combination of a variety show and banquet) was someone who did imitations of the top two leaders in China, as well as the previous top two leaders. At first I thought he was just going to poke fun at the school's leaders because I was under the belief that publicly making fun of the top leaders was unacceptable (of course, many people do so in private conversations and online). Granted, he didn't compare Hu Jintao to a monkey and his imitations were very very mild by Daily Show or Colbert Report standards, but there were parts I found funny and even more parts the Chinese teachers found funny. Still, this goes what most Westerners think of when they think of freedom of speech and China.

Update on the New York Times

Beginning today, I seem to be able to fully access the NYTimes again. There's been some theorizing about why it was blocked around the Internet, with a lot being written by James Fallows, who knows a lot about how Chinese online censorship works. However, I stand by my hypothesis. The other articles mentioned as possibilities by Fallows are really mild in comparison to the assertion in the below article that the attacks in Kashgar were not of a terrorist nature. Another possibility given by one of his friends, which I originally thought was possible is:

I suspect that while the reason behind this blocking is not yet clear, the process--and thereby the motivation--might be a bit less obscure. That is, given that consensus drives policy decisions here, it is very likely that different parts of the bureaucracy weighed in and officials each had a gripe with the NYT coverage of some or another issue. Collectively, they were able to push through a directive to block it.

The people here overseeing foreign journalists also know that there will soon be a new contingent manning the desks of the NYT bureau here. Those officials want to send a clear signal that they expect more positive ("objective") coverage of China.

However, given that the site is now working, I don't think this is a good explanation. I couldn't find a link on any Times pages to the article about the Kashgar attacks today - meaning it is too old - so I'm guessing that they just waited until said link went away. Though still just a theory.

The reason why the Chinese government suddenly started blocking the new york times

In both my trips to China, the New York Times has always been available. Occasionally, like after the Lhasa incident last year, individual articles would be blocked. But now, the Chinese government has deemed it sufficiently dangerous for me to read articles about cooking or op-eds about the Obama transition thanks to the following article (re-printed in defiance of the great firewall - I am more than a little pissed about this complete blocking; i read the Times daily):

2 Uighurs Sentenced to Death for West China Police Assault

By Edward Wong

BEIJING — A court in the western Chinese region of Xinjiang has sentenced two men to death for an attack in August that killed 17 paramilitary officers, according to a report on Wednesday by Xinhua, the state news agency. The assault was one of the deadliest against security forces since at least the 1990s.

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Photographs from a foreign tourist appeared to cast some doubt on the official account of the events in the Kashgar attack.

The court determined that the men, who were sentenced in the attack on Aug. 4 in the remote oasis town of Kashgar, were trying to “sabotage the Beijing Olympic Games that began Aug. 8,” Xinhua reported. The men, Abdurahman Azat, 33, and Kurbanjan Hemit, 28, are ethnic Uighurs, a Turkic-speaking Muslim people. Some Uighurs advocate independence in Xinjiang and resent what they call discriminatory policies put in place by the ruling ethnic Han Chinese.

Most, if not all, of the paramilitary officers killed or wounded on Aug. 4 were Han Chinese.

The Intermediate People’s Court of Kashgar sentenced the men for “intentional homicide and illegally producing guns, ammunition and explosives,” Xinhua reported.

Chinese officials said the day after the attack that the men, a taxi driver and a vegetable vendor, had rammed a truck into a group of about 70 officers from the People’s Armed Police who were out for morning exercises and had then attacked the officers with machetes and homemade explosives. At the time, the authorities said 16 officers were killed and 16 others injured. The attackers were arrested, the authorities said.

The assault was the first and deadliest of four in Xinjiang in August for which officials blamed Uighur separatists. The violence killed at least 23 security officers and one civilian, according to official tallies.

In interviews in September, three foreign tourists who were in the Barony Hotel, across the street from the site of the assault, gave details of the attack to The New York Times that appeared at odds with aspects of the official version. The tourists confirmed that the truck plowed into the officers, leaving many dead and injured. But they said they did not hear multiple explosions afterward.

Furthermore, they said they saw paramilitary officers using machetes to attack what appeared to be other men with the same green security uniforms. The men with the machetes mingled freely with other officers afterward, the tourists said.

The Xinhua report on Wednesday provided more details of the assault to back up the earlier official version. The report said that the two men, armed with guns, explosives, knives and axes, drove a heavy truck that they had stolen to the site of the assault at 6 a.m. and waited for the officers to emerge from their compound. About 8 a.m., Mr. Azat drove the truck into the officers when they came out for their exercises, killing 15 and wounding 13, Xinhua reported.

When the truck turned over, he detonated explosives to kill another person, according to Xinhua.

At the same time, the Xinhua account said, Mr. Hemit tossed explosives toward the gate of the security compound and brandished a knife at the police officers who had been felled by the truck. Mr. Hemit killed one officer and wounded another, Xinhua said.

One of the foreign tourists, a man who provided photos of the assault to two Western news organizations, said in September that he had seen a severely injured man tumble out of the driver’s seat after the truck rammed the officers. The driver crawled around and did not appear to be in any condition to carry out further attacks, the tourist said.

The Xinhua report did not give any details on what kind of evidence was reviewed by the court in Kashgar during the trial of the two men. It also did not mention the East Turkestan Islamic Movement, a shadowy organization that Chinese officials have long cited as the main separatist threat in Xinjiang. The day after the assault, the party secretary of Kashgar, Shi Dagang, told reporters that it appeared that the two men were members of that group.

Their Own Worst Enemy

A well-written account of China's public relations problems. If you're going to read anything about China this month (or possibly this year), you should read this. Also here.

by James Fallows

After two years in China, there are still so many things I can’t figure out. Is it really true, as is always rumored but never proved, that the Chinese military runs most of the pirate-DVD business—which would in turn explain why that business is so difficult to control? At what point in Chinese culture did it become mandatory for business and political leaders to dye away every gray hair, so that gatherings of powerful men in their 50s and up are seas of perfect pitch-black heads? How can corporations and government agencies invest huge sums producing annual reports and brochures and advertisements in English, yet manifestly never bother to ask a native English speaker whether they’ve made some howler-style mistake? (Last year, a museum in Shanghai put on a highly publicized exhibit of photos from the Three Gorges Dam area. In front, elegant banners said in six-foot-high letters The Three Georges.) Why do Beijing taxi drivers almost never have maps—and almost always have their own crates or buckets filling the trunks of their cars when they pick up baggage-laden passengers at the airport? I could go on.

But here is by far the most important of these mysteries: How can official China possibly do such a clumsy and self-defeating job of presenting itself to the world? China, like any big, complex country, is a mixture of goods and bads. But I have rarely seen a governing and “communications” structure as consistent in hiding the good sides and highlighting the bad.

I come across examples every day, but let me start with a publicly reported event. Early this year, I learned of a tantalizing piece of news about an unpublicized government plan for the Beijing Olympics. In a conversation with someone involved in the preparations, I learned of a brilliant scheme to blunt potential foreign criticism during the Games. The Chinese government had drawn up a list of hotels, work spaces, Internet cafés, and other places where visiting journalists and dignitaries were most likely to use the Internet. At those places, and only there, normal “Great Firewall” restrictions would be removed during the Olympics. The idea, as I pointed out in an article about Chinese controls (“‘The Connection Has Been Reset,’” March Atlantic), was to make foreigners happier during their visit—and likelier to tell friends back home that, based on what they’d seen on their own computer screens, China was a much more open place than they had heard. This was subtle influence of the sort that would have made strategists from Sun Tzu onward proud.

The scheme displayed a sophisticated insight into outsiders’ mentality and interests. It recognized that foreigners, especially reporters, like being able to poke around unsupervised, try harder to see anything they’re told is out-of-bounds, and place extra weight on things they believe they have found without guidance. By saying nothing at all about this plan, the government could let influential visitors “discover” how freely information was flowing in China, with all that that implied. In exchange, the government would give up absolutely nothing. If visiting dignitaries, athletes, and commentators searched for a “Free Tibet” site or found porn that is usually banned in China, what’s the harm? They had seen worse back at home.

When the Olympics actually started, things did not go exactly according to plan. As soon as journalists began checking in at their Olympic hotels, they began complaining about all the Web sites they couldn’t reach. Chinese officials replied woodenly that this was China, and established Chinese procedures must be obeyed: Were the arrogant foreigners somehow suggesting that they were too good to comply with China’s sovereign laws? Unlike the brilliant advance scheme, all this was reported.

After huddling with officials from the International Olympic Committee, who had been touting China’s commitment to free information flow during the Games, the Chinese government quietly reversed its stance. For a few days, controls seemed to have been lifted for Internet users in many parts of Beijing—in my apartment, far from the main Olympic areas, I could get to usually blocked sites, like any BlogSpot blog, without using a Virtual Private Network (VPN). Eventually the controls came back on for everyone except users in the special Olympic areas. By then the Chinese government had turned a potential PR masterstroke into a fiasco. Now what the foreign visitors could tell friends back home was that they knew firsthand that China’s Internet is indeed censored, that its government could casually break its promise of free information flow during the Games, and that foreign complaints could bully it back into line.

From the outside, this blunder might not seem note­worthy or surprising, given the dim image of the Chinese government generally conveyed in the Western press. It might not even be thought of as a blunder—rather, as a sign that the government had, for once, been caught trying to sneak out of its commitments and repress whatever it could. To me it was puzzling because of its sheer stupidity: Did they think none of the 10,000 foreign reporters would notice? Did they think there was anything to gain?

The government’s decision was more complicated but even more damaging in another celebrated Olympics case, this one the most blatantly Orwellian: the offer to open three areas for “authorized protests” during the Olympics—followed by the rejection of every single request to hold a demonstration, and the arrest of several people who asked. It’s true that even if China is wide-open in many ways, public demonstrations that might lead to organized political opposition are, in effect, taboo. But why guarantee international criticism by opening the zones in the first place? Who could have thought this was a good idea?

Such self-inflicted damage occurs routinely, without the pressure of the Olympics. Whenever a Chinese official or the state-run Xinhua News Agency puts out a release in English calling the Dalai Lama “a jackal clad in Buddhist monk’s robes” or a man “with a human face and the heart of a beast,” it only builds international sympathy for him and members of his “splittist clique.” A special exhibit about Tibet in Beijing’s Cultural Palace of Minorities this year illustrated the blessings of China’s supervision by showing photos of grinning Tibetans opening refrigerators full of beer, and of new factories including a cement plant in Lhasa. Such basic material improvements are huge parts of the success story modern China has to tell. But the exhibit revealed total naïveté in dealing with the complaints about religious freedom made by the “Dalai clique.” It was as if the government had hired The Onion as its image consultant.

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that reporters are viewed with suspicion or loathing by the political or business leaders they cover. That doesn’t keep governments in many countries from understanding the crass value of cultivating the press. Anyone with experience in neighboring South Korea, Taiwan, or Japan knows how skillful their business-governmental establishments are at mounting “charm offensives” to make influential foreigners feel cosseted and part of the team. Official China sometimes launches a successful charm offensive on visiting dignitaries. When it comes to dealing with foreign reporters—who after all will do much to shape the outside world’s view of their country—Chinese spokesmen and spinners barely seem to try. Maybe I’m biased; my application for a journalist visa to China was turned down because of “uncertainty” about what I might be looking for in the country (I have been here on other kinds of visas). But China’s press policy seems similar to, say, Dick Cheney’s (if without the purposeful stiff-arming) and reflects the same view—that scrutiny from the Western press is not really necessary. I’m convinced that usually these are blunders rather than calculated manipulation.

This is inept on China’s part. Why do I consider it puzzling? Because of two additional facts I would not have guessed before coming to China: it’s a better country than its leaders and spokesmen make it seem, and those same leaders look more impressive in their home territory.

Almost everything the outside world thinks is wrong with China is indeed a genuine problem. Perhaps not the most extreme allegations, of large-scale forced organ-harvesting and similar barbarities. But brutal extremes of wealth and poverty? Arbitrary and prolonged detentions for those who rock the boat? Dangerous working conditions? Factories that take shortcuts on health and safety standards? Me-first materialism and an absence of ethics? I’ve met people affected by every problem on the list, and more.

But China’s reality includes more than its defects. Most people are far better off than they were 20 years ago, and they are generally optimistic about what life will hold 20 years from now. This summer’s Pew Global Attitudes Project finding that 86 percent of the Chinese public was satisfied with the country’s overall direction—the highest of all the countries surveyed—was not some enforced or robotic consensus. It rings true with most of what I’ve seen in cities and across most of the country’s provinces and autonomous regions, something I wouldn’t have guessed from afar.

Americans are used to the idea that a country’s problems don’t tell its entire story. When I lived in Japan, I had to reassure fearful travelers to America that not every street corner had a daily drive-by shooting and not every passing stranger would beat them up out of bigotry. When foreigners travel or study in America, they usually put the problems in perspective and come to see the offsetting virtues and strengths. For all the differences between modern China and America, most outsiders go through a similar process here: they see that China is a country with huge problems but also one with great strengths and openness.

It’s authoritarian, sure—and you put yourself at great risk if you cross the government in the several areas it considers sacrosanct, from media control to “national security” in the broadest sense. (The closest I have come to trouble with the law was when I stopped to tie my shoe on Chang’an Boule­vard, near Tiananmen Square in Beijing—and obliviously put my foot on what turned out to be a low pedestal around the main flagpole at Xinhua Gate, outside the headquarters of the country’s ruling State Council. Three guards rushed at me and pushed me away to end this sacrilege.) But China is full of conflicting trends and impulses, every generalization about it is both true and false, and it is genuinely diverse in a way the Stalin-esque official line rarely conveys.

One other Olympics example: the opening ceremonies paid homage to China’s harmonious embrace of its minority peoples with a giant national flag carried in by 56 children, each dressed in the native costume of one of China’s recognized minority groups, including Tibetans, Mongolians, and Uighurs. Contrary to initial assurances from Chinese offi­cials, it turned out that every one of the children was from the country’s ethnic majority, Han Chinese. This was reminiscent of Western practices of yesteryear, as when Al Jolson wore blackface or the Swedish actor Warner Oland was cast as Charlie Chan in 1930s films. And it was criticized by the Western sensibilities of today.

Another element of the mystery is the deftness gap. Inside the country, China’s national leadership rarely seems as tin-eared as it is when dealing with the outside world. National-level democracy might come to China or it might not—ever. No one can be sure. But from the national level down to villages, where local officials are now elected, the government is by all reports becoming accountable in ways it wasn’t before. As farmers have struggled financially, a long-standing agricultural tax has been removed. As migrant workers have become an exploited underclass in big cities, hukou (residence-permit) rules have been liberalized so that people can get medical care and send their children to school without having to return to their “official” residence back in the countryside. Whenever necessary, the government turns to repression, but that’s usually not the first response.

The system prides itself on learning about problems as they arise and relieving social pressure before it erupts. In this regard it learned a lesson earlier this year, when its reaction to the first big natural disaster of 2008 turned into its own version of Hurricane Katrina. Unusual blizzards in central and southern China paralyzed roads and rail lines, and stranded millions of people traveling home for the Chinese New Year holidays; the central government seemed taken by surprise and was slow to respond. That didn’t happen with the next disaster, three months later. When the Sichuan earthquake occurred, Premier Wen Jiabao was on an airplane to the stricken area the same afternoon.

So I return to the puzzle: Why does a society that, like America, impresses most people who spend time here project such a poor image and scare people as much as it attracts them? Why do China’s leaders, who survive partly by listening to their own people, develop such tin ears when dealing with the outside world? I don’t pretend to have a solution. But here are some possible explanations, and some reasons why the situation matters to people other than the misunderstood Chinese.

There is no politer way to put the main problem than to call it “ignorance.” Most Americans are parochial, but (surprise!) most Chinese and their leaders are more so. American politicians may not be good at understanding foreign sensitivities or phrasing their arguments in ways likely to be effective around the world, as foreigners have mentioned once or twice in recent years. But collectively they understand that America is part of an ongoing, centuries-long, worldwide experiment and discussion about political systems and human values, and that making their case well matters.

After the 9/11 attacks, America went through a round of “Why do they hate us?” inquiry. Whether or not that brought the United States closer to understanding its problems in parts of the Islamic world, it did represent a more serious effort to understand how the country was seen than anything I have heard of in China. When the Olympic torch relay this spring was plagued by boos and protests over Tibet in places ranging from France to the United States, the reaction at every level of the Chinese system seemed to be not just insult but genuine shock. Most Chinese people were familiar only with the idea that China has always been a generous elder brother to the (often ungrateful) Tibetans. By all evidence, no one in command anticipated or prepared for this ugly response. The same Pew survey that said most Chinese felt good about their country also found that they thought the rest of the world shared their view. That belief is touching, especially considering how much of China’s history is marked by episodes of its feeling unloved and victimized. Unfortunately, it is also wrong. In many of the countries surveyed, China’s popularity and reputation were low and falling. According to a report last year by Joshua Cooper Ramo of Kissinger Associates, most people in China considered their country very “trustworthy.” Most people outside China thought the country was not trustworthy at all.

“The underlying problem is that very few people in China really understand how foreign opinion works, what the outside world reacts to and why,” Sidney Rittenberg told me. Rittenberg is in a position to judge. He came to China with the U.S. Army in 1945 and spent 35 years here, including 16 in prison for suspected disloyalty to Chairman Mao. “Now very few people understand the importance of foreign opinion to China”—that is, the damage China does to itself by locking up those who apply for demonstration permits, or insisting on “jackal” talk.

During the Chinese Communist Party’s rise to power and the civil war against Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalists through the 1940s, the coterie around Mao knew how to spin the outside world, because they had to. One important goal was what Mao called “roping the whale”: keeping the United States from intervening directly on Chiang’s side. The future prime minister and foreign minister Zhou Enlai was especially skilled at handling foreigners. “He laid out battle plans and political strategies, in advance, with remarkable clarity,” the muckraker Jack Anderson, who was a cub reporter in China, said of Zhou in his memoirs. “These truths made him so believable that a reporter would be inclined to accept his assurances, too, that the Chinese Communists weren’t really Communists but just agrarian reformers.”

Of course, most official voices of China now have the opposite effect. Their minor, provable lies—the sky is blue, no one wants to protest—inevitably build mistrust of larger claims that are closer to being true. And those are the claims the government most wants the world to listen to: that the country is moving forward and is less repressive and more open than official actions and explanations (or lack of them) make China seem. Many Chinese who have seen the world are very canny about it, and have just the skills government spokesmen lack—for instance, understanding the root of foreign concerns and addressing them not with special pleading (“This is China…”) but on their own terms. Worldly Chinese demonstrate this every day in the businesses, universities, and nongovernmental organizations where they generally work. But the closer Chinese officials are to centers of political power, the less they know what they don’t know about the world.

Even as the top leadership tries to expand its international exposure and experience, much of the country’s daily reality is determined by mayors and governors and police. “It’s like the local sheriff in the old days in South Carolina,” said Sidney Rittenberg, who grew up there. “He’d say, ‘They can talk and talk in Washington, but I’m the law down here.’” Thus one hypothesis for the embarrassment of the “authorized” protest sites during the Olympics: Hu Jintao’s vice president and heir apparent, Xi Jinping, was officially in charge of all preparations for the Games; hobnobbing with the IOC, he would see the payoff to China of allowing some people to protest. But the applications went to the local police, who had no interest in letting troublemakers congregate. A similar mix-up may well have led to the embarrassment over whether to open the Internet during the Olympics, and could also explain many of the other fumbles that get so much more attention than the news the government wants to give.

The Communist Party schools that train the country’s leadership are constantly expanding their curricula to meet the needs of the times; but for advancement in party ranks what matters is loyalty, predictability, and party-line conformity. The United States saw just how well a similar approach paid off in worldwide respect and effectiveness when it staffed its Embassy in Baghdad’s Green Zone mainly with people who followed the party line in Washington.

The damage China does to itself by its clumsy public presentation is obvious—though apparently not yet obvious enough to its leadership. For outsiders, the central problem is that a country that will inevitably have increasing and perhaps dominant influence on the world still has surprisingly little idea of how the world sees it. That, in turn, raises the possibility of blunders and unnecessary showdowns, and in general the predicament of a new world power stomping around, Gargantua-like, making onlookers tremble. The world has known this predicament before. It is what the previously established powers have feared about America, starting a hundred years ago and with periodic recurrences since then, most recently starting in March of 2003. Maybe that puts America in a good position to help China take this next step.

Food safety cannot be removed from media oversight

A second translation I've done about government controlling of the media during this incident. Also here.

By Zhang Qianfan (a professor of constitutional law at Peking University), translated by Jennifer Haskell

Recently the Shijiazhuang municipal government publicly apologized for the Sanlu powdered milk incident. The city received a report from Sanlu at the beginning of August about the problem, but "did not entirely comprehend," "did not fully estimate the consequences," and "dealt with it inadequately." Once again, in order to protect local enterprise and control "negative influences," the city government allowed more than a month to go by without reporting it, causing the state of affairs to creep towards a stage where it could not be managed. The entire powdered milk crisis demonstrates that food safety is obviously the moral responsibility of the company and it is the government's duty to supervise. However, this incident also proves that when we cannot rely on local governments and enterprises, on whom can we rely? Why, when the cases of infant kidney stones appeared before August, did we not hear a single media report? Just think, if the Sanlu milk powder problem had been reported at the time it first appeared, would it still have caused so many infants to become sick and even die? Would the Shijiazhuang government still "not entirely comprehend" and "not fully estimate the consequences"? Would city leaders, because they "seriously affected the party's and the city's image," have lost their posts? Based on the reasons revealed by the city government spokesperson, there were no media reports about the problem because Sanlu "asked the city government to strengthen its control and coordination of the media," so the city government obviously complied. Because all over the country people did not realize the problem with powdered milk, finally today everyone has seen or experienced an episode of the problem themselves.

The Sanlu incident demonstrates that we cannot trust the companies and cannot necessarily trust local government. Under the premise of revenue being basically stable, enterprises will do anything possible to lower production costs. As long as it does not cause problems, like the powdered milk incident, which are serious and obviously harmful, or to say it more precisely, as long as such harm does not lead to extra costs, profit maximization by any method is the "rational choice" of enterprises. In the local government's point of view, a company like Sanlu – one of the top 500 Chinese companies – not only means local taxes but also represents the local "government achievement," bearing the image of the local government itself. Because of this, when its products had problems, the local government's first reaction was to help the company control the negative social effects, then hope they pass, managing themselves and reducing harmful effects, calming the situation and deceiving. Finally, the local government and companies get through the situation unscathed, to everyone's satisfaction. The problem is, because of a lack of media oversight, the general public knows nothing about this entire process, cannot do anything to guard against it, and therefore faces a huge health and security risk. One day, the local government fails to manage the crisis, delaying controlling it until the last moment, so that a local risk becomes a national disaster. In the end, for the local government and company's "image," they now have to pay the costs for consumers scattered across the entire country; in the powdered milk incident, this is first and foremost hundreds of thousands of kidney stones in infants.

Actually, the Shijiazhuang government does not need to excessively reproach itself, because from its perspective, after the Sanlu incident occurred, the measures taken within the government could not be called "inadequate." The government and Sanlu miscalculated, actually "not fully estimating the consequences." They did not realize that melamine would become such a big force all over the country, causing such a mortal disaster, even causing human casualties. If this had been known earlier, at the beginning, the information should not have been concealed and the media should not have been "managed and coordinated" by the government. However, in this case, the Shijiazhuang city government's comprehension is seemingly still lacking; the government should apologize to the entire country not for "dealing with it inadequately," and definitely not for "lacking political sensitivity," but for delaying reporting the incident. Furthermore, the government should not help companies by "controlling and coordinating" the media, leaving everyone in the dark and not realizing that they are bearing a huge security risk and harm.

As the general public, the thing we care about most is not that the powdered milk incident damaged some famous brands' business prospects or the careers of some of the people responsible. Instead, we care about the flaws that were exposed in the system that caused public harm and the lessons that can be drawn from the crisis. Since the government and companies certainly cannot always be trusted and since they even sometimes intentionally create falsehoods, have mistaken judgment, or supervision is not adequate, we cannot put our entire fate in their hands, and eventually pay the price for their various mistakes. A safe and secure society most have the ability to save itself, and the premise for saving oneself is information. May we ask if the public is entirely ignorant of safety risks, how can we protect ourselves against them? In fact, in terms of what the governments to do, this is easier – it just needs to guarantee the free flow of information. At the very least it cannot fail to bring to light public information that it has and cannot intentionally suppress important information relevant to public health and safety. In other words, the government, during this type of incident, can just let go and not manage, and the country will be better for it.

Of course, some people may ask, what if the information is not true? What if it damages the company's name? The answer is very simple: the constitution stipulates that China should be a country with the rule of law, so we can resolve this type of problem through legal means. If the media reports of melamine in Sanlu's powdered milk were proven in a courthouse to be simply untrue, and the rumors affected sales of Sanlu's powdered milk, then the media that reported the false stories would be responsible for paying for the company's economic losses. Just as Sanlu should pick up the tab for the kidney stones caused by its powdered milk. China's laws and courts specialize in resolving this type of problem; even if media reports are not entirely true, what do we have to fear?

Simple common sense says that media supervision will not unnecessarily disturb the government but will instead help the government and society together realize and resolve problems. Not only is the media the eyes and ears of society, helping the public to discover and avoid risk in a timely fashion, but it is also an informant for the government. Although high levels of government can go through internal channels to understand issues at lower levels, internal information will inevitably have limits. The higher the level, the farther away it is from the grassroots. Direct information from society is very limited, so higher levels must go through the media to hear from society. These past few years from the 2003 case of Sun Zhigang to this year's Weng'an mass incident, high levels of government learned of these public incidents through media reports in a timely manner and managed the national effects they produced. These reports produced "negative effects," reflecting local societies' inharmonious components, but at the same time, through the media exposing the inharmoniousness, our society has the possibility of moving towards harmony. On the contrary, if actions like the Shijiazhuang government's "managing and coordinating" of the media until hidden security problems become real crises occurs, how can we possibly realize harmony? After all, harmony is not just peace on the surface, it is internal peace and stability. If we want to observe the people's condition, resolve contradictions, and realize harmony, all of this cannot be removed from a responsible and pluralistic media.

The Sanlu powdered milk incident proves that food safety definitely requires administrative supervision and company guarantees, but even more, it requires oversight by the media.

Original Chinese article: http://www.chinaelections.org/NewsInfo.asp?NewsID=135452

“If the people are allowed to oversee the government, the government will not dare relax”

I'm posting two translations that I did for our website. Both are at least somewhat related to the milk crisis. This one can also be found here.

By Liao Yimin, translated by Jennifer Haskell

This article's title came from Mao Zedong's 1945 famous "talks in the cave" with Huang Yanpei at Yanan. Today, its use is that it could act as a panacea to solve the "crisis of the ruling."

Calling it a "crisis of the ruling" is not at all excessive. The current poisoned milk incident is the same as the 2003 SARS crisis, as it has caused the whole world to receive a disastrous shock, as thousands upon thousands of children have become sick and thousands upon thousands of households are suffering grief and indignation. Everywhere, without exception, people sigh as they discuss it, and global public opinion is once again focused on China. If it is said that the SARS incident had an element of "natural disaster" (in reality it was a man-made disaster), then the contaminated milk incident is entirely man-made. The reason it is man-made is as Hu Jintao said: some cadres' work style is superficial, management is lax, and they have turned a blind eye to the cries and suffering of the people. They have become apathetic and unresponsive to huge problems related to the safety of people's lives. In short, public authority is lacking; administration doesn't act.

As the people discuss the problem of corruption, they pay more attention to graft and bribery, not realizing that administrative inaction is becoming a more serious and more common image of corruption. Chinese cadres often say that they "represent the people," but in reality: those with "public power" do not administer the law in the people's interests, and they do not act for the people. The people say of the cadres: "In the morning, they have meetings in which they only speak empty words, at lunch they drink Remy Martin, in the afternoon they muddle-headedly do not accomplish anything, and at night they meet bosses and chase women." Because the law is not administered fully, forgery and counterfeiting is increasing, as advertisements for false products are prevalent across the country; it could be called a spectacle. How could officials have missed them? They have seen it but are uncaring and unresponsive. We are not strangers to melamine as last year it was found in dog food exported to the US. Did officials not think to defend against it? They lazily thought about it but did not take responsibility.

In facing cadre apathy, government sluggishness, the people's dissatisfaction, and a crisis of the ruling, what can be done? Education and raising awareness of course are necessary, but neither addresses the root of the problem. In order to resolve the fundamental issue, China only needs to look to the title of this essay and Mao Zedong's "highest directive": "If the people are allowed to oversee the government, the government will not dare relax." How can this "highest directive" be implemented? Li Junru wrote in explanation, we are constantly working hard, but working hard is not enough! Is the contaminated milk incident not enough to proof that our hard work still falls very short of addressing the people's needs? Zhang Chunxian said in Hunan, emancipating the mind means that power needs to be given back to the people. This is exactly the point! Only if you genuinely give power to the people, then the people can sufficiently and effectively oversee the government, and the government will not relax. As Party members take part in activities to study the ideas of scientific development, will we discuss this issue?

To read the article in Chinese, click here.

Yang Jia: Criminal or hero?

In China, if you weren't talking about the Olympics this summer, you were probably talking about this case. Article also here.

By Jennifer Haskell

On September 1, Yang Jia was sentenced to death by the No. 2 division of the Shanghai Municipal People's Court. His crime, killing six policemen and injuring a number of others in Shanghai's Zhabei District public security bureau, would not have attracted much sympathy by the judicial system nor the court of public opinion in any country. Yet in this year's summer of discontent in China, Yang Jia became somewhat of a people's hero. While it is unlikely that he will receive much sympathy from the China's supreme court when his case comes up for review, Chinese netizens have been surprisingly supportive of Mr. Yang. Immediately after the Weng'an incident, the overwhelming response to Yang's case demonstrated the large amount of dissatisfaction that people have with local lawmakers and law enforcement.

Supporters have questioned how a "nice guy" from Beijing who enjoys traveling and photography could end up as a cold-blooded killer. As more of the story came out, the public found out that Yang was held by the police last year on suspicion that he had stolen the bike he rented while on vacation in Shanghai. While a portion of the transcript reflecting acrimony on both sides was made public, police held him in custody for six hours even though he had proof that he had legally rented the bicycle. Allegations of abuse during his time in custody arose, as afterwards Yang Jia had unsuccessfully sued the police for 10,000 RMB for mental anguish suffered.

Furthermore, the conduct of the trial elicited questioning of its fairness. The trial was closed to the public; neither family members nor the media were allowed to witness the proceedings. Doubts about the appropriateness of Yang's lawyer, Xie Youming, arose, especially from the suspect's father who tried to have his own lawyer represent his son. Mr. Xie worked as a legal consultant for the Zhabei District government, so he would have had the same supervisor as the police officers who were killed, presenting what some argue is a conflict of interest. Additionally, Yang's lawyer dismissed the possibility of the insanity plea, as he himself found Yang in perfectly sound mental health and also asserted that he deserved the death penalty (note: all Chinese articles raising such doubts have been censored).

While some commentators sympathize with the slain policemen, arguing that Yang deserves his punishment, others have focused on the unfairness of the trial. Still, a large number seem to empathize with Yang Jia on a more emotional level, labeling him an "upholder of justice and righteousness"(义士). In a CCTV television report, investigative reporter Bai Yansong provided some possible explanations why the general public has been so sympathetic to Yang Jia. One such reason is that people see the police as a large, evil organization and thus see Mr. Yang's attacks as righteous and justified. Even if the individual police officers who died did not deserve such a fate, their lives can be ignored if Yang Jia's actions were in pursuit of a larger goal. Such an explanation begins to grasp the rampant distrust of local authority. As one commenter on our Chinese website wrote, "Yang Jia did what we all would like to but don't dare do, therefore, in a society where the rule of law is not evident, black and white are blurred, justice is not extended, there is no order, and violence is used indiscriminately, we have lost hope in the law. We hate the powers that be, naturally hope for a righteous hero, and sympathize with Yang Jia." Sympathetic reactions to Yang Jia's case not only seem to defy what many people in Western countries see as the obvious response to the killing of police officers but also suggest that more cases like Yang Jia's could appear in the future if law enforcement and the justice system do not reform for the better.

Other netizens have proffered that Yang Jia committed murder because he was born and raised in Beijing. More specifically, if the Shanghai police brought a migrant worker from the countryside into custody on suspicion of stealing a bike and treated him roughly, he would just be thankful to emerge alive. Accustomed to prejudice and bullying and convinced that there is no justice, someone from the countryside would not try to seek compensation through the justice system, seeing such actions as laughable because of their obvious inefficacy. Only someone brought up in Beijing, aware of his rights, would attempt to seek justice through the system and then turn violently against the system if it fails him.

Yet, we should hope that all citizens can reach the level of legal consciousness that Yang possessed and not maintain the expectation of injustice. It was not his understanding of his rights that led him to commit the crime but his sense that those rights had been violated and nothing had been done to correct for this wrong. While there are people who would act rashly under any system, a fairer and more just legal system could limit cases like Yang Jia's. As noted by his lawyer, his great understanding of the law is exactly the reason why the Shanghai justice system should have made the trial more transparent and open to the public. There is no doubt that Yang Jia committed the crime and most Chinese citizens would agree that the death penalty is an appropriate punishment for someone who murdered so many police officers. Therefore, it is not the verdict that is in question, it is the process. By holding a fair and transparent trial, the justice system could have said to both Yang Jia and his sympathizers: while the system failed you once, it has not failed you again. Instead, the questionable choice of a defense attorney and closed door proceedings only confirmed the inequity and injustice inherent in the system, which Yang already understood.

As the CCTV reporter Bai Yansong pointed out, people's lives are important; he asks how the people can expect the government to put the people first and fully respect human life if the people hold up Yang Jia (a killer) as an upholder of justice and righteousness. Police officers died, and their lives should be respected, but that does not mean that people cannot understand Yang Jia's motivations. The huge number of mass incidents in China that come about because of local injustices demonstrates that many Chinese have similar grievances. In fact, a true respect for human life would call on Yang Jia's sympathizers to work to reform the system so that it does run by the motto of putting the people and human lives first, thereby reducing incidents of injustice that can lead to violent consequences.

Reforming the state sport system – a first step

One idea for beginning to reform China's sports system, which I instincitvely am very much against, but I also realized it is the only way for a developing country to win gold. (Though it could certainly be a bit more forgiving of its athletes). Article also here.

By Jennifer Haskell

No one doubts the great success that the Chinese team had at the Beijing Olympic games, winning 51 gold medals – significantly more than the second place American team – and 100 total medals. Such a performance has led to a debate about the state of sports in the country, which has generally seen itself as not competitive with developed countries in athletics, as well as the sports system. Ding Gang argues that the country's Olympic success as well as his observations of everyday athletic activities in China versus other countries demonstrates that China is a great country in sports.

However, one must ask by what standards a country's greatness in sports should be measured. One commentator on the Chinese China Elections and Governance website wrote in response to Ding's article, "the mark of a great country in sports is that its people decide on their own accord to make sports a part of their lives," calling into question the very state-run system that brought China its 51 gold medals. While there are obviously still many staunch defenders of the system, others have not used Olympic victory as an excuse for complacency and are calling for reform. The West has always leveled strong criticism at state-managed sports systems, and a Los Angeles Times article detailed some of the hardships endured by Chinese athletes en route to gold, but international Chinese sports stars such as Yao Ming have also critiqued its demanding nature. Yet, one of the most convincing reasons for reform may be the huge cost of gold medals, which could be as high as between 60 and 700 million RMB per medal. A Caijing editorial argues that the system's inefficiency and its inability to promote physical education for ordinary citizens indicate that it is time to change and move towards a market based system, even if it means sacrificing some gold medals along the way.

While the downsides for individuals caught in the system are difficult to argue with – children taken away from their parents at young ages for vigorous training and unsuccessful athletes doomed to difficult lives by their lack of other skills – there is likely no other way for a developing country to win gold medals in any significant quantities. Few Chinese families can afford the expensive training needed to perform well in sports such as gymnastics, diving, or equestrian. Additionally, most children focus almost exclusively on academics, leaving little time for athletic development as an extracurricular. The state system solves both of these problems by putting children with athletic potential into sports schools and paying their expenses. It is unlikely that this situation will change anytime soon and prompt drastic commercialization of athletics.

Still, there is a way forward that would both help to further foster widespread appreciation of the benefits of athletic activity and could eventually help to change the system towards a more market based one as Caijing suggests. China could use the American system as a model for reform for popular team sports such as basketball, soccer, and volleyball. There are many problems with the American sports system (one could argue that it takes commercialization too far), but it does provide a broad basis for developing athletes, especially in these spectator, team sports. In most areas of the US, there are sports leagues for soccer, basketball, baseball, or whatever sport happens to be popular in that region (this could include badminton and table tennis in China) for kids as young as five years old, in which anyone can participate. Children have practice once or twice per week and games against other teams on the weekend and are coached by parents or other volunteers. In middle school, teams representing their schools compete against each other and star players can go on to play on more specialized teams that have better coaches and require larger time commitments.

While certainly difficult to organize at a national level, China could begin in cities where it would be relatively easy to put together teams from different elementary schools or neighborhoods to compete against each other. Undoubtedly, Chinese students would relish a chance to practice and compete regularly in sports. Of course, schools would have to support this initiative and encourage students to spend time engaging in such extracurricular activities instead of focusing 100% of their energies on academic achievement. Furthermore, China could maintain high schools that focus on sports (but also teach academics) and use middle school leagues, once developed, as a feeder system.

Adopting this part of the American sports system would only begin to change athletics in China, and the state-run system would have to be maintained if the country wanted to continue to be a contender in the events it usually excels in (though it could make the system less physically and mentally demanding on its athletes). Still, this reform would certainly succeed in promoting broader engagement in athletic activities, and, you never know, it could develop China's first gold medal or World Cup winning soccer team from athletes that the rigid state system overlooked.

Olympic security: an evaluation

Written mostly on a bus. Seriously. For a further, broader evaluation of China's Olympic performance (which I mostly agree with), read this. My article also here.

By Jennifer Haskell

After what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, the 2008 Beijing Olympics finally began with an eye-catching opening ceremony that showcased China's large population and Zhang Yimou's cinematography skills. While issues such as pollution, censorship, and human rights had dominated the media leading up to the event, once the games began, much of the news coverage shifted focus to the athletes and the race to win the most gold medals.

However, one issue of heated controversy leading up to the games was the drastic security measures taken by Beijing in preparation for the Games. The Chinese government cited real threats as the rationale for such measures, while the Western media dismissed such assertions, labeling the measures as draconian and even said they resembled techniques used during the Mao era. Was the high level of security justified? Or did the Chinese authorities overreact? It is obvious that China has a much broader definition of "security threat" than Western countries, and regulations – such as not allowing banners into Olympic arenas – appear to explicitly target potential political protesters. Still, events both before and after the opening ceremony have demonstrated that risks of both real and imagined security threats exist and must be dealt with. Critics may not like China's strict regulations on protesting (one must have a permit to protest, even in specific protest zones), but despite many challenges, Beijing has proven rather adept at handling security challenges and making sure they do not disrupt the Games.

Olympic Protests

Chief among the imagined security threats was Joey Cheek, a gold-medal-winning-speed skater who also helped to start the group Team Darfur, which advocates on behalf of victims of genocide. China revoked his visa, leading not only to further criticism of the host country's human rights situation and its involvement in Sudan but also commentary on the absurdity of the measures taken by Beijing to ensure a protest-free Olympics. Similarly, local dissidents have been put under house arrest to guarantee that they do not disrupt the games.

While Beijing has not granted permits for protests in the designated zones, protesters have managed to get around stepped up security. Protests have included the hanging of "Free Tibet" banners on lampposts near the national stadium and one staged by Students for a Free Tibet members who managed to bypass the especially stringent measures in Tiananmen Square. The Chinese government is deporting foreign protesters, as they are in violation of domestic law but has generally shown restraint in dealing with incidents, even paying for dinner and flights home for some. Local protests have been kept under control by the monitoring of dissidents, though a small group of Qianmen homeowners did manage to march near Tiananmen. So far, Beijing has handled the small protests to its Olympics rather well, making sure that they do not disrupt the Games or incur excessive attention and criticism from the West.

Olympic Violence

Beijing has long claimed that the largest threat to security during the Games comes from Islamic separatist groups from Xinjiang, which have been responsible for bus bombings in the past and with whom the Chinese government has long been fighting. The West doesn't doubt the reality of the threat from such groups – the US even has the East Turkestan Islamic Movement on its list of terrorist organizations – but because of little transparency on the Chinese side, many suspect that fighting terrorism remains an excuse for abusing the human rights of the Uyghur minority in Xinjiang. The first proof of the possibility of terrorist attacks occurred on July 21 in Kunming, when two bus bombs killed two and injured many others. Although Beijing asserts that the attacks were not engineered by terrorist organizations, they certainly made clear that security, especially during the Olympics, remains a concern in China.

Since then, Islamic separatist groups have proven their intention to disrupt the Games, though they have so far launched their attacks only in Xinjiang, not in Beijing. The first particularly jarring attack occurred on August 4, when militants attacked and killed 16 border police in Kashgar, Xinjiang. This incident was followed up by a series of bomb attacks, also in Xinjiang, and a third attack killed 3 security officers near Kashgar. These attacks certainly represent an increase in violence in China's westernmost province or at least an increase in reporting of violent attacks.

Then on August 10, a man from Hangzhou stabbed American Todd Bachman to death, the father-in-law of the US men's volleyball coach, and also injured his wife and their Chinese tour guide while they were visiting the drum tower. The attacker then killed himself by jumping off the tower. Especially since violent attacks on foreigners are a rare occurrence, this one garnered much international media attention, but it appeared to be an isolated incident carried out by a man who "acted out of despair." Furthermore, American tourists in Beijing still view the city as safe, demonstrating the freak nature of the stabbing and that people have acknowledged it would have been nearly impossible to prevent.

Now that the Olympics have started, events have proven that Beijing was correct to worry about security, although it is impossible to tell whether Chinese measures were too paranoid or appropriate to deal with such threats. In terms of political protests, Beijing probably did not need to be so concerned. The city has dealt with such disturbances well, calling into question pre-Olympic moves such as curtailing visas and even revoking Joey Cheek's, which only served to attract more criticism from abroad. Still, attacks in Xinjiang and on American tourists have demonstrated that security risks are real, though they may come in forms not anticipated by the authorities. On the whole, Beijing has certainly demonstrated to the world that they have what it takes – both in security and otherwise – to host a successful Olympics.

China and Africa, China and the World

From a looong time ago. Also here.

By Jennifer Haskell

China's rise and the role it will play on the international stage have been topics of discussion for years, yet no one knows for sure how China will influence the international system. Events this past week in Africa provided a few clues about the complexities of China's relationship with the world.

Critical Vote

China demonstrated its growing power on the world's stage by, along with Russia, vetoing the UN Security Council resolution that would have imposed sanctions on Zimbabwe. The sanctions would have imposed an embargo on arms sales as well as freezing the assets of and imposing a travel ban on top officials. The US argument for sanctions derives from Zimbabwe's March elections, which were won by opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai over long-ruling dictator Robert Mugabe. But because Tsvangirai only won a plurality, not a majority, of votes according to the official count, a run-off was scheduled, which the opposition leader eventually dropped out of due to Mugabe's brutal and violent tactics to suppress the opposition vote. The hope was that sanctions would drive Mugabe to further negotiations with the opposition and end his campaign of intimidation.

On the other side, China and Russia argued – along with South Africa and two other countries that voted against the resolution – that sanctions would hinder the mediation process that was already beginning to take place. Furthermore, Zimbabwe's situation still qualifies as a domestic problem – not a threat to international security – so it is not proper for the UN to step in. Non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries is a major tenet of Chinese foreign policy. Yet, it is doubtful that China held the critical vote on this resolution, as both British and American diplomats asserted that Russia, who seemed to suddenly change position on the issue, was key. China, on the contrary, rarely uses its veto, usually only exercising it on resolutions that involve Taiwan or military force and is especially wary of being the lone veto.

China and Africa

Yet despite this rather understandable position by China, given the position of Russia and Zimbabwe's neighboring countries, China's influence in Zimbabwe remains a point of contention. Accused of being the financiers of Mugabe's corrupt regime, the PRC has a long history of cooperation with Robert Mugabe, as China provided financial support and military training to his Zanu rebels in the 1970s. And with Mugabe in power, the two countries have continued their cooperation to this day, as China has mineral and energy resource deals with Zimbabwe and also continues to be Mugabe's major supplier of weapons. The latter led to problems earlier this year when in April a Chinese ship carrying arms for Zimbabwe docked in Durban, South Africa, and the dock workers, backed by their union, refused to unload the cargo. The shipment came a few weeks after the election, and the arms were suspected to be used against those who voted for the opposition. Other African nations also refused to unload the ship, and it is unclear whether or not the arms ever made it to Zimbabwe. The backlash, especially from neighboring African countries, calls into question the Chinese policy of non-interference, as arming a government that violently oppresses a significant portion of its population is not clear nut non-interference. Furthermore, instability in Zimbabwe has the potential to greatly affect the neighboring countries that opposed the arms sale.

The arms shipment scandal is just one incident in a wider debate about China's influence in Africa. The Chinese government argues that its trade with and investment in Africa genuinely benefits the people, helping these countries build their infrastructure and develop. In their testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on African Affairs, two high ranking State Department officials – including renowned expert on Chinese foreign policy, Thomas Christensen – generally agreed, saying that Chinese involvement on the continent is a "potentially positive force for economic development." Chinese activities should not be seen as trying to lessen US influence, as there are many opportunities for cooperation, which is already beginning to occur.

Still, there are some concerns; many of China's African partners complain that the Chinese tend to not use local workers or raw materials, instead bringing their own. Investments in infrastructure and other forms of aid are seen as primarily fueled by a thirst for Africa's mineral and oil wealth. The West also opposes the PRC's policy of aid with "no strings attached," as it impedes Western efforts to use aid to encourage good governance and democracy. But as China argues, sovereignty is also an important international value. It remains to be seen how strictly Beijing will adhere to its policy of non-interference in the future and how it will affect the international system as well as Western efforts to encourage universal values.

In addition to Zimbabwe, China's dealings with Sudan have also been a cause for concern. The China National Petroleum Company (CNPC) is the primary player in Sudan, and Western NGOs and individuals have accused China of essentially underwriting the genocide in Darfur with its oil trade and arms sales to Sudan, calling for an Olympic boycott because of this issue. A recent BBC report accused Beijing of violating an arms embargo on Darfur, which the Chinese government denied. While China has not used its leverage over Khartoum to the extent that the West would like, it has, in the past two years, taken an active role in the Darfur crisis, led by its envoy Liu Guijin, helping to convince Sudan to accept an international peacekeeping force, contributing to the peacekeeping force, and providing humanitarian aid. At the same time, Beijing just expressed "great concern," over the International Criminal Court's indictment of Sudan's president Omar al-Bashir on charges of genocide. Still, the question is, how much can we blame China, especially when Western governments have clearly not made Darfur a priority?

China's dealings with Africa provide a snapshot of the complexities of China's evolving relationship with the world at large. Beijing's approach of quiet diplomacy – as evident in Darfur as well as in the North Korean nuclear crisis – and its investment and trade in Africa provide a definite benefit to both the recipient countries and the international system as a whole. Yet, as China begins to become a larger and larger player, it will be more and more difficult to strictly adhere to a policy of non-interference, especially as the line between domestic and international issues becomes increasingly blurred due to globalization. While the West certainly has little moral authority to question China's intentions on the continent, African concerns about Chinese projects and arms sales should resonate in Beijing. China will have to further contemplate how to advance its own interests while also fostering a positive image in the world. At the same time, if the G8 hopes to remain relevant, it will have to adapt, including China as a member and as a respected player in the international system.

Press freedom contradictions and the trend towards transparency

Writing this article and reading about the recent Weng'an incident (also here) have given me a very mixed impression about the future of press freedom in China. Though this article is more positive. also here.

By Jennifer Haskell

While globalization's effects on the international media are certainly not new, 2008 has so far seen a dramatic increase in interaction between the Chinese and Western media. The Chinese are paying closer attention to the Western press than ever before and realizing that lack of government control does not mean it is always fair and balanced. And the West has also begun to read and comment on the Chinese press, though usually sticking to the official media, which only reinforces long-held assumptions about the state of journalism in China. The controversy following the Lhasa riots and the international leg of the torch relay highlights both trends.

In reality, the media situation in China is much more complicated, and some of these nuances became clear to the West following the Sichuan earthquake. In the beginning, Western press had nothing but praise for the openness and transparency with which China administered relief efforts. The government first tried to administer its usual controls on access to disaster sites, but when many local news outlets ignored the ban, a more open approach was embraced, as Chinese and foreign journalists were permitted to report directly from the scene, interviewing victims and disseminating information about the quake. Later in May, however, the central government once again tried to tighten its grip on the press, which the Western media reacted to with regret, cynicism, and criticism.

To the Chinese press, such fluctuations in openness are nothing new, as the role of the media is in a constant and complicated state of flux, subject to restriction at any time. Still, compared to ten years ago, the trend is clearly toward openness and developing "supervision by public opinion" (yulun jiandu), which is often used to refer to investigative journalism or the watchdog role of the media, and such hard-hitting reporting is more prominent than most in the West realize. Liu Yu, a CCTV employee, recently outlined three stages in the development of the media's role as a watchdog in Media magazine. His first stage – from 2001 to 2002 – saw the prominence of investigative television shows such as "Interview Focus" and "Investigative News." The second stage, from 2003 to August 2004, included the promotion of all aspects of investigative journalism, forming a "small high tide". During this period Southern Metropolis Daily broke the story of Sun Zhigang, a migrant worker who was detained and beaten to death for not carrying his Guangzhou residency permit. His case led to the revoking of the law under which Sun was held. This period also saw the outbreak of SARS as well as other cases of journalism bringing scandals to light.

The third stage, beginning in August 2004, saw a rise in editorials as an important source of social commentary and media challenging the status quo. Chang Ping's editorial earlier this year calling for less restrictions on the media did just that and ignited a firestorm of criticism online. While 2006 saw tighter restrictions on investigative reporting that focuses on corrupt officials, Caijing continued to publish such reports on economic issues and mining accidents became a big focus of journalistic investigation.

Despite restrictions that are both self and government imposed, media that pushes the envelope and challenges the status quo continues to thrive, with Caijing and the Southern Media Group (which publishes the Southern Metropolis Daily and Southern Weekend as well as other publications) at the forefront. Caijing recently published an extensive investigative piece on the quality of school construction in Sichuan, despite official orders to drop the issue. Southern Media Group publications, in addition to being the home of controversial editor Chang Ping, broke the story earlier this year of the fraud of Nanjie village and has provided consistently good coverage of the earthquake. Both publications have strategies for evading government control and punishment, as described in a recent NPR report on journalism in China. Caijing often employs scientific or legal jargon to mask its hard-hitting reports, and its international reputation also helps protect it against government interference. The Southern Metropolis Daily has had a more tumultuous history, angering local officials with its story on Sun Zhigang, which led to the jailing of its editor, and has since learned to do its investigative reporting in other provinces. Still, the paper often has to preemptively fire its own editors to avoid trouble.

Chinese leadership is not quite certain how to deal with the changing nature of the domestic and international media environment. Lessons have been learned from the handling of the controversy following the Lhasa riots as well as the aftermath of the earthquake, but it is not clear that this will necessarily lead to more openness. In a speech marking the 60th anniversary of the People's Daily, Hu Jintao acknowledged the need for the Party's media to adapt to the times and effectively use new methods to propagate its message and compete with both the much more popular commercial media and the international media. He notes the media's success after the earthquake in inspiring the people's confidence and winning praise both domestically and internationally, but credits this success with the timeliness and thoroughness of reporting, not mentioning openness or transparency. Additionally, Hu only refers to "supervision of public opinion" once, among a long list of things that need to be done in the new media environment. Instead, he emphasizes the Party's media's role in the "guidance of public opinion" (yulun yindao), which he mentions 9 times. The rhetoric of President Hu's speech definitely indicates a recognition of the need to change but no suggestion that such change will lead to more media freedom and less control. (China Media Project has an in depth analysis of the speech).

Still, there is only so much the CCP can do to control the flow of information or public opinion. A large part of the change in the global media environment comes from the Internet, where Chinese citizens can easily access Western media like the New York Times or CNN; even if the site is blocked, proxy servers are commonplace. And that's exactly what Chinese netizens did following the Lhasa riots – went to Western sources for information as domestic media did not originally report on the incident, and the controversy that followed forced the Chinese press to at least address the issue. Posts on BBS forums and blogs also often precede reporting in the traditional press. The recent Weng'an riots are a perfect example of how online commentary and Western reporting on the incident forced Xinhua to give a much more detailed report than its original four sentence press release. Furthermore, online, anything and everything is talked about and all opinions are aired, even if having an unpopular viewpoint leads to harsh criticism by the majority. Even if controversial posts are often taken down, the discussion is still occurring, and online media are playing an increasingly important role in China, for better or for worse (for worse being the vociferousness of fervent nationalists). Hu certainly understands these trends; while at the People's Daily, he briefly chatted with netizens, discussing his own online habits. Yet, it remains to be seen how much free rein the CCP will continue to give both traditional and new media outlets.

In his speech, Hu also notes that the prevailing attitude on culture and media remains that the "West is strong, China is weak." An editorial in Southern Weekend by Xiao Shu agrees that the Chinese media needs to mature in order to both change this attitude and increase China's soft power. He argues that the reporting on the earthquake demonstrated that the Chinese press has the capability of rising to the occasion but in order to develop needs more freedom in which to operate as well as more market competition. Chang Ping had made a similar argument – that in order to avoid inaccurate reports and counteract bias, China needs a free and open reporting environment; only then can the truth come out.

However, Chinese leaders do see a role for "supervision by public opinion," specifically in fighting corruption. In addition to setting up a hotline for monitoring government officials, the CCP Central Committee's five year anti-corruption plan also calls on the media to play a larger role in supervising party members. A Beijing Youth Daily article called on officials to accept scrutiny and oversight by the press, as it can help them perform their jobs better; it also instructed the media to operate in a scientific, legal, and constructive manner. Liu Yu also calls on the press to be responsible in its investigations. Several media outlets are calling for an open account of what happened in Weng'an, where citizens believe the government is covering up a rape and murder; they are doing their job of "supervision by public opinion," and acting as a watchdog, but will the government respond positively? This remains to be seen.

Still, even if they have to deal with capricious crackdowns, both online and traditional media continue to push the boundaries of what is acceptable. When one goes beyond the media directly controlled by the CCP, it becomes obvious that while development and growth is needed and while there are clear boundaries, the press is beginning to step into its role of "supervision by public opinion," investigating, bringing scandals to light, and even questioning the government. It may not be occurring as rapidly as many in the West would like, but the trend is most definitely towards openness and freedom of the press.

In defense of Ding Gang

One of my colleagues in the US (really) takes on a Washington Post commentator. It's a very harsh critique, though much of it is deserved. also here.

What is wrong with Edward Cody's article?

By Joseph Miller

Directly following the international community’s coverage of the Tibetan protests and the skirmishes following the Olympic torch, a bellicose and unexpected surge of protest arose from the Chinese people. On the web and on the pavement, citizens of the People’s Republic of China and overseas Chinese decried the western media for being biased and distorted. The most commonly entertained explanation for this fierce outpouring was twofold: a warped vision of the West and Tibet by Chinese government propaganda and a rising irrational nationalist feeling. But after reading the Washington Post’s, “In China, Fascination With Obama's Skin Color”, an analysis by Edward Cody of a Chinese article on the U.S. presidential candidate Barack Obama, I think its time we considered that the Chinese might be right about the Western Media, or at least Mr. Cody.

The Chinese article in question is called “The Obama Phenomenon” by Ding Gang (to read the English version, click here; to read the Chinese version, click here), and was printed after Obama’s victory over Hillary Clinton to become the Democratic nominee. As for The Post’s bias, it is so pervasive in the article that one is at a loss over where to begin, as if surveying a totaled car of an article. But why not start with the title, “In China, Fascination with Obama's Skin Color”. Fascination? Ding Gang refers to Obama’s skin color in a purely academic manner, analyzing its likely affect on Americans. If one has read a multitude of Chinese articles on Barack Obama (this article only cites one) and consistently found that skin color was mentioned out of context of a larger American societal debate, one might begin to claim China was indeed fascinated by Obama’s skin. Mr. Cody seems to think it is ample to make this claim for 1.3 billion people based on the first sentence of Ding Gang’s article, which (according to Mr. Cody’s article) states that Obama’s skin color was the biggest focal point of the primary. Never mind the fact that this is an awfully strong translation of Ding Gang’s opening sentence, which can be read as saying, “Obama’s skin color has been one of the most observed aspects of this year’s American presidential race.”. The very next paragraph talks about Obama’s promise of change. “The Obama Phenomenon” extols how this presidential candidate is hugely talented and a representation of the American dream. Fascinated with skin color? It certainly doesn’t appear that way; multiple reasons are given for Obama’s appeal.

This is not to say that Ding Gang’s article doesn’t have a bias of its own. It is an extremely critical and cynical article, with what is very blunt and racially driven rhetoric. Chinese society may indeed have a rather blunt approach to the discussion of race, but the accusation that the U.S. is a nation in the Anglo-Saxon Protestant mold is an oversimplification to say the least. America is a multicultural and religiously pluralistic society; Anglo-Saxons make up only a small section of the white population (there are large Asian, Hispanic, as well as African American minorities) and Catholics outnumber any single Protestant denomination. In terms of Ding Gang’s analysis of Obama’s promise of change, he seems to be making the case that elections in the U.S. do not have a large influence. He states that Obama may represent change, but actually is in line with mainstream U.S. values and can do very little when he enters office. In addition, he compares the election between John McCain and Barack Obama as changing actors on a stage, reinforcing the idea that U.S. elections are a sham. Of course, because Ding Gang is a writer for the People’s Daily (a government supported newspaper) it might be in his interests to state that elections fail to change the government’s situation. To be as cynical as Ding Gang is a bit ridiculous. Hardly a mere actor, the U.S. president is a legislative, executive, and symbolic force. Barack Obama, with a Democratic Party-controlled Congress in tow, could make many real changes to U.S. military, economic, and trade policies. As a head of state, he could be a powerful, transformative symbol of a multicultural society. If he manages to have a successful presidency, he might forever dispel the notions of racial inferiority. This being said, Edward Cody’s critique of Ding Gang is simply flawed.

Perhaps one of the most mirthfully ridiculous claims Cody makes is in his first paragraph. He states: “America may be discussing whether Barack Obama is tough enough to field a 3 a.m. phone call, but for the Chinese Communist Party's official newspaper, the real issue is his race.” Having read Ding Gang’s article, it is baffling that Cody would write such a sentence considering that Ding Gang does discuss whether American’s think Obama is tough enough to answer the infamous 3 A.M. phone call. Ding Gang writes, “To borrow from the Hillary and Obama campaign’s advertisements, perhaps what may in the end decide people’s vote is the frame of mind, “Imagine its 3:00 A.M. at the White House and the red phone is answered; if the person answering is McCain, it would be more reassuring.”

It’s clear that Mr. Cody has no grasp of “The Obama Phenomenon” or the Chinese view in general. In any translation of a Chinese article that discusses skin color one is immediately struck by how the Chinese language uses the terms “black people”, “white people”, and skin color. The Chinese are not delicate about racial features, and as of yet haven’t taken on the politically correct language that many in the U.S. expect. Ding Gang’s article is no exception. He is blunt about the issue of race and gives a very straightforward argument on how Obama relates to American society and African Americans in general. However, can one truly say that the WASP driven culture, assimilation, and Obama’s relation to the African American community are settled issues? It likewise seems ridiculous to use Ding Gang’s article to paint him and the entire Chinese people as “fascinated” with skin color.

Mr. Cody uses a broad brush indeed. It’s quite clear by the third paragraph that he is using Ding Gang’s article to attack China on its treatment of Tibetans, Uighurs, and minorities in general. In a particularly snide remark, he states, “The editorial sought to explain that Obama's breakthrough should not be understood as a demonstration that race relations have crossed a threshold in the United States that China has yet to approach.” While it is true Ding Gang posited that one of the biggest factors in the primary was Obama’s skin color, Mr. Cody never really made an argument against that idea. Instead, he decided to use the painfully weak method of arguing against a foreign reporter by attacking him for the policies of a government in which he had no say, and have nothing to do with Ding Gangs article.

Perhaps more foul is Cody’s implication that Ding Gang is not a real person: “Ding Gang, a name frequently assigned to important analyses in a publication that plays the role of party bulletin board. Chinese journalists said they believe it is a pen name used by senior editors or other party propaganda officials conveying an official point of view.” In actuality, Ding Gang is the associate director of the International Department of The People’s Daily and “The Obama Phenomenon” appeared in its overseas edition. That Mr. Cody would make such an egregious error as calling the author’s existence into question is shocking, but as it appears he failed to do so much as read Ding Gang’s article it’s hard to imagine Mr. Cody thoroughly inquiring into fallacious hearsay regarding the Chinese writer.

In the West we tend to believe that we are privy to the most accurate press in the world; free of bias and factually accurate. But with China bashing inaccurate articles like, “In China, Fascination with Obama's Skin Color”, it is time we had a look at what newspapers and 24 hour news/entertainment channels are calling news. For an article that so distorts a Chinese author’s message (as well as claiming he isn’t real) to lash out against the Chinese government is reprehensible, especially since the original is not readily readable by the average Washington Post consumer. The blatant inability to have a coherent argument, accurately represent a foreign article, do basic fact checking, and leave out anti-Chinese sentiment makes Edward Cody and the Washington Post resemble a ridiculous screed. How ridiculous do the claims that China’s media is censored and useless appear when the Washington Post uses their freedom of speech to run a tabloid and call it news?

True Pride

“Personally, I have always thought of myself as trying to understand China and explain what the Chinese point of view might be.” Good article in Time about something that is important to understand. also here.

By Jiajia Liu

Just a few weeks ago, the west's view of china was dominated by thuggish torch guards, hypersensitive nationalists and a repressive government. But since the earthquake in Sichuan, the immense state-led rescue effort and the outpouring of charity from the Chinese people has taken center stage. Has the country really changed that much? Not really. The two phenomena on display — nationalism and compassion — are related facets of the vast, multidimensional nation that China is. When it comes to my homeland, I feel them both.

I left China in 1989, just after Tiananmen, when I was 7. My mother and I traveled to London to join my father, a Ph.D. student sponsored by the Chinese government. I grew up in London, and studied as an undergrad in the U.S. before going to Paris for a master's degree. My international education was a product of curiosity and restlessness. I am essentially a Westerner. Yet China has a special place in my identity — and in my heart.

When I first came to London, even the most pro-China overseas students denounced the Chinese government. I quickly swapped my faith in Chairman Mao for a conviction that the West would help the Chinese people advance to liberation and happiness. In school, I was taught to critically examine everything I was told. But I became perplexed by the behavior of the supposedly neutral media. No report of China was ever complete without a mention of Tiananmen; no Chinese interviewee ever had anything positive to say about his or her life. It seemed to me that Western media were exclusively highlighting the worst side of China.

My Western compatriots, normally so skeptical of the media, seemed to buy this depiction of China. Friends would tell me in low, excited tones that they were going to China. Would they be arrested? No, I would say: Chinese criticize the government all the time.

In the case of the protests against the Olympic torch relay, which were sparked by the Tibet crackdown, the angry response of ordinary Chinese was automatically presumed to be stoked by propaganda. The reality is that Chinese people are not a brainwashed bunch. While they may rely more heavily on domestic news sources, they do realize that the information is censored, and many who read English seek Western news. My Western compatriots, in contrast, trust solely in a market-driven Western press that caters to the popular mood and plays on public fears about a rising power culturally different from their own.

China is proud of its culture but also curious about other ones. Chinese people genuinely regard the Olympics as a wonderful way to introduce the world to their home. Opening your doors only to have them flung back in your face with misinformed and misguided moral disdain is deeply insulting. The Western press and public opinion are filled with condescension toward China, and the attitude that the West alone knows what is best for all peoples.

Why do I, a Western-educated Chinese, defend a country in which I don't live, and whose values are quite different from the ones I was raised with? To me, it is a question of simple mathematics. Twenty years ago, my parents could barely afford to buy me a $1 toy horse for my first Christmas present in London. Today, Chinese tourists flock to Louis Vuitton on the Champs Elysées. Life in China has gotten vastly better, and, wherever they are, Chinese can feel proud about being Chinese.

As for democracy, it remains to be seen what kind is suitable for China and when it can be introduced. Democracy is effective only when supported by the appropriate institutions and by cultural maturity. China is a vast country accustomed to imperial rule, where preserving overall harmony by suppressing individual freedoms is accepted. The current government is autocratic, but it is also adept at keeping the nation together by fast-tracking reforms. As an autocracy, moreover, Beijing can act with unparalleled efficiency for good, as shown in the massive rescue operation after the recent earthquake.

Perhaps my views qualify me as a nationalist. Personally, I have always thought of myself as trying to understand China and explain what the Chinese point of view might be. I have loved my international upbringing precisely because understanding — and appreciating — diverse cultural perspectives helps me overcome misconceptions, respect others and settle differences. The Sichuan earthquake, tragic as it was, has shown the world the compassionate face of Chinese nationalism. The human spirit underpins it and connects us all.

Jiajia Liu is a communications professional working for the WPP Group in London. She last visited China late last year