Commuters on one of several subway lines in Hangzhou, China. China’s censors are moving to stamp out more than just political dissent online. Now, they are targeting the public mood itself — punishing bloggers and influencers whose weary posts are resonating widely in a country where optimism is fraying. Photo / Qilai Shen, The New York Times
China’s censors are moving to stamp out more than just political dissent online.
Now, they are targeting the public mood itself — punishing bloggers and influencers whose weary posts are resonating widely in a country where optimism is fraying.
Authorities have punished two bloggers who advocated for a life of less work and less pressure; an influencer who said that it made financial sense not to marry and have children; and a commentator known for bluntly observing that China still lags behind Western countries in terms of quality of life.
These supposed cynics and sceptics, two of whom had tens of millions of followers, have had their accounts suspended or banned in recent weeks as China’s internet regulator conducts a new clean-up of Chinese social media.
The two-month campaign, launched by the Cyberspace Administration of China in late September, is aimed at purging content that incites “excessively pessimistic sentiment” and panic or promotes defeatist ideas such as “hard work is useless”, according to a notice from the agency.
“In reality, we all experience fatigue and anxiety as a result of work and life, but these real emotions deserve respect and should not be deliberately amplified for traffic. The internet is not a dumping ground for negativity,” China’s state broadcaster CCTV said in an editorial about the campaign.
Around the world, officials debate how to keep social media from stoking outrage and polarisation that could spill over into real-world violence or harm.
The internet regulator in China has framed its campaign in similar terms, expressing concern about messages that stoke divisions based on gender or other group identities or livestreaming content that glorifies self-harm and violence.
China’s crackdown carries a distinctly political undercurrent.
It demonstrates the concern among its leadership about the spread of malaise as the country grapples with economic uncertainty, a volatile rivalry with the United States and growing disenchantment among young people.
In recent years, some young people have opted out of the rat race in favour of a minimal life of “lying flat” or given up on goals altogether and “letting it rot”. The accounts of two bloggers known for promoting a minimal “lying flat” lifestyle were blocked from adding followers late last month.
Beijing is concerned that such pessimism doesn’t just discourage citizens from being productive members of society. It could turn into criticism of the ruling Communist Party.
“The root cause is deteriorating economic and social prospects for many Chinese, which has led to what for any country would be a natural social response — the expression of anxiety and misgiving,” said David Bandurski, the director of the China Media Project, a research group.
“Such sentiment, the leadership worries, might be infectious,” Bandurski said.
Local governments and social media platforms have jumped into action to carry out the regulator’s orders.
In the city of Zhengzhou in central China, officials said two social media account owners were investigated for portraying the city in an unflattering light.
In Xi’an, the local internet regulator said it punished the holders of five social media accounts for “spreading false information” about housing prices and real estate regulations.
Weibo, a popular microblog, said last week that it suspended more than 1200 accounts that “spread rumours” about the economy and government welfare programmes.
The internet regulator ordered platforms to root-out posts that use isolated news events to point to broader social problems, a style of commentary that the authority condemned as “malicious misinterpretation” that fuels cynicism about society.
People in China often use such posts to vent frustration or share their fears and questions.
Recent incidents such as food safety scandals at schools had residents questioning the transparency and accountability of government officials.
Last year a series of random attacks on civilians, attributed to aggrieved residents seeking “revenge on society”, prompted discussion about deep-seated inequality and mental health in China today.
Most recently, internet users fixated on the death of a Chinese actor, Yu Menglong, whose body was found outside a multistorey building in Beijing last month.
The authorities, based on a statement from Yu’s mother, said he had fallen accidentally. Chinese platforms were awash with unproven theories.
His death fuelled questions about power and corruption in the entertainment industry, as well as about transparency on the part of the police. Weibo limited discussion of Yu and suspended more than 1500 accounts for posting about him.
Chinese state media have also sought to cast the online clean-up as an effort to target those who are peddling despair for clicks.
The state broadcaster CCTV warned about posts that convey a bleak picture of life in China: “Parents have unfilial children. Men are surrounded by materialistic women. Women are trapped by bad men who cheat. The workplace is full of unmotivated young people.”
Such stories, it warned, were the work of “emotional predators” feeding the gloomiest stories to draw attention.
Official efforts to curb content that profits from despair may be silencing genuine expressions of frustration.
“The official message of positivity is contrasted by an economic reality that is just starkly different compared with the last decades,” said Katja Drinhausen, head of Chinese politics and society at the Mercator Institute for China Studies. “It will not be enough to keep online negative emotions in check.”
The social media accounts of Hu Chenfeng, an auto repairman turned influencer whose videos have highlighted poverty and inequality in China, have been removed from several platforms.
Propaganda officials in Zhejiang have accused him of “worshipping the West.”
He is most famous for coining a shorthand for class divides in China — Apple users versus Android users — that in his view highlights the gap between the haves and the have-nots.
“‘Android’ is now an adjective,” he said in one video. “For example, an ‘Android computer’ means your computer is very low-end. An ‘Android house’ means that the house has poor soundproofing, a bad layout and poor lighting.”
One other influencer, Zhang Xuefeng, a former tutor, was known for arguing that students from poor families stood little chance of breaking into elite professions like finance or medicine without the right social or political connections.
The crackdown is also an effort to rein in the influence of China’s largest social media platforms. In September, the regulator summoned representatives from several popular platforms for content violations.
The People’s Daily, the Chinese Communist Party’s official mouthpiece, said in an editorial that the campaign made it clear that platforms could no longer let pessimism proliferate unchecked. “The bugle has been sounded and all parties should act accordingly,” it said.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
Written by: Lily Kuo
Photograph by: Qilai Shen
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