Zhongguo zhengfu ruhe kongzhi meiti (How the Chinese Government Controls the Media)
Somehow poison got into the food at a snack shop in Nanjing, China, on September 14, 2002, and more than four hundred people fell ill. After forty-one of them died, the official Xinhua News Agency posted a notice warning of contaminated food in Nanjing, but this was quickly withdrawn and the government imposed a black-out on all such stories. Word of the poisoning spread by people telephoning overseas, however, and after thirty-six hours, publication of the news abroad forced an end to the domestic ban. By then about one hundred people had died.
During the news blackout what did citizens of Nanjing hear from their own press and television? Here are three of the lead stories on the nightly news for September 14:
• A reemployment conference in Nanjing elicits a warm response across the country; laid-off workers are grateful for the heartfelt care of the General Secretary of the Party.
• The results of central tax collection for January through March are splendid in every way.
• Senior Minister Li Peng visits the Philippines and delivers a report.
He Qinglian, the economist and journalist whose book China’s Pitfall1 exposed the ways in which officials in control of state-owned resources used their power to make huge unearned profits during China’s economic boom in the 1990s, has now written an account of China’s press. It concentrates on two questions that the bad-food story raises: How is real news suppressed? And what is the effect on popular thinking of the political drivel the government offers the public instead?
He Qinglian considers these questions against the background of a recent boom in popular publishing. In the early 1990s the government cut the budgets of most publishers, whether of books, magazines, or newspapers, making it clear that they would now have to support themselves even while they remained technically within the state system. This presented publishers with a new challenge: how to appeal to the public while still steering clear of political trouble. Many created evening or “metropolitan” newspapers that carried stories on entertainment, fashion, sports, and other popular but politically innocuous topics. By 2002 about half of the two thousand or so newspapers in China were of this kind. Normally they have outsold the mainline Party papers, which they are forced to subsidize.
The new publications have led some foreign observers to speculate that China is developing its own version of a “liberal” press. The Chinese government, trying to improve its international image, encourages such perceptions and hence will find it hard to forgive He Qinglian for showing how very superficial they are. Every Chinese publication, however gaudy, she writes, still has to be owned by a state-controlled organization. Private investors can put money into publications, but accountants have to record this as “debt,” not investment. Officials of the Party’s Propaganda Department allow the papers to publish what they please on many topics but carefully monitor anything that is politically sensitive. About chess tournaments, anything goes. About Taiwan, the implicit message…
This article is available to online subscribers only.
Please choose from one of the options below to access this article:
Purchase a print premium subscription (20 issues per year) and also receive online access to all content on nybooks.com.
Purchase an Online Edition subscription and receive full access to all articles published by the Review since 1963.
Purchase a trial Online Edition subscription and receive unlimited access for one week to all the content on nybooks.com.