3 Discussions and 1 Question

University of Pennsylvania Press

Chapter Title: The Coevolution of the Internet, (Un)Civil Society, and Authoritarianism in China Chapter Author(s): Min Jiang

Book Title: The Internet, Social Media, and a Changing China Book Editor(s): Jacques deLisle, Avery Goldstein, Guobin Yang Published by: University of Pennsylvania Press. (2016) Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1b3t8nr.4

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C H A P T E R 1

The Coevolution of the Internet, (Un)Civil

Society, and Authoritarianism in China

Min Jiang

Th is chapter extends Guobin Yang’s 2003 seminal article on the coevolution of the Internet and civil society in China.1 It argues the Internet has facili- tated, on the one hand, the coevolution of Chinese civic spaces and authori- tarian control, and, on the other, the coevolution of civic activities and uncivil interactions. Th e Internet has not only helped amplify civic discourses and group formations; it has also augmented the infl uence of uncivil exchanges online, leading to a greater degree of fragmentation and cynicism of public opinion. Although social media platforms such as the Twitter- like Sina Weibo can serve as a critical space for expressing and channeling public opinion, they are unlikely to be the ultimate game changer.

In charting the new terrain of China’s online civic spaces, the chapter focuses on four aspects: (1) real- time activism; (2) online po liti cal jamming; (3) weibo celebrities; and (4) the rise of an “uncivil society” online. I explore conditions and instances of “real- time” activism; the use of cultural jamming and “serious parody” for po liti cal activism; the role of weibo celebrities in fos- tering plurality and fragmentation; and the uncivil ideological discourse exchanges that have led to public brawls in the street and pop u lar rejection of “public intellectuals.” In contrast, to curb the po liti cal consequences of new forms of mediated activism, the control regime has implemented a variety of new mea sures besides fi ltering and employment of pro- government com- mentators to forestall or pacify collective actions, including real name regis- tration policy and anti- rumor campaigns.

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The Coevolution of the Internet 29

Th e chapter argues positive development of online public spaces in China relies as much on institutional politics to eff ectively channel public opinion as it does on identity politics and progressive changes in subjectivity through everyday life interactions. While the Internet mediates such negotiations and is increasingly indispensable to the parties involved, it does not determine their outcomes. Th e contextualized use of the Internet and new media, shaped by the social, cultural, and po liti cal protocols surrounding such technologies, ultimately does.

Context

Th e massive diff usion of the Internet and the rise of China as a world power are two prominent stories of our time. In 1994, China connected to the World Wide Web. By mid-1998, Chinese Internet users reached 1 million. Today, China is the second largest economy in the world and home to 632 million Internet users, 275 million microbloggers, 527 million Internet mobile phone users, and such Internet giants as Alibaba, Baidu, Tencent, and Sina.2 Th e rapid development of the Chinese Internet is grounded in the transformation of China itself from a third- world country to a manufacturing and industrial power house aft er the Chinese Communist Party traded Mao for markets and gradually opened its closed doors to the outside world in the late 1970s.

Th e Chinese government’s embracing of the Internet presents a paradox and has attracted heated public debate over the po liti cal consequences of the widespread adoption of the Internet in an authoritarian society. President Reagan famously remarked: “Th e Goliath of totalitarianism will be brought down by the David of the microchip.”3 Yet defying such prevailing techno- utopian predictions that the Internet sides with freedom and undermines au- tocratic rulers, Beijing has so far managed to weave and guard an expanding fi ltered web. Besides employing various means of censorship,4 more impor- tant, the regime has built and promoted state legitimacy through economy, nationalism, ideology, culture, and governance to ensure the compliance, if not allegiance, of its population.5

Th is is not to say that Chinese authorities do not fear the diff usion of the Internet in China or its po liti cal implications. In fact, Party mouthpiece and People’s Daily Online’s editor in chief once remarked: “What would it look like if everybody went into politics? . . . China has more than 100 million In- ternet users. If they were all free to speak their minds, we would have a very

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30 Min Jiang

serious situation.” 6 With more than 600 million of the Chinese population online now, control of po liti cal discourse is by no means a cakewalk. As Guo- bin Yang demonstrated in his nuanced account of digital activism in China, the Chinese state’s regulation of the Internet has consistently run against an impressive degree of grassroots challenges fueled by public discontent dur- ing China’s tumultuous economic, social, and cultural transformations.7

Th e evolution of the Internet in China in the last two de cades has wit- nessed the simultaneous growth of authoritarianism and grassroots activ- ism fueled by contention and participation. Dubbed oft en by pop u lar press as a “cat- and- mouse” game, the coevolution of digital activism and authori- tarianism does not pronounce immediate winners or losers. However, it has become increasingly clear that the Internet is not necessarily an insur- mountable threat to capable illiberal regimes. So far the Chinese govern- ment has managed to promote the Internet as a means for socioeconomic development while successfully minimizing its po liti cal impact. Overall, despite limited po liti cal freedoms, people’s freedoms in other realms have expanded with improved living standards and opportunities. China’s on- line activism is thus embedded in a much larger media ecol ogy and social pro cess, where the po liti cal impact of the Internet is mediated through a complex mix of social, economic, po liti cal, and institutional circumstances.8

Unlike the dictators toppled during the Arab Spring— Ben Ali failed to control the communication networks in Tunisia, where protestors used the Internet effectively to or ga nize civil disobedience; Mubarak unplugged the Internet in Egypt and drove protestors to the street— Chinese authorities have walked a fi ne line balancing Internet growth and its attendant po liti cal consequences. Its “networked authoritarianism” or “authoritarian deliberation” resorts less to brute force but allows for a considerable degree of give- and- take between the state and emergent civil forces.9 Moreover, China’s expanding economy, the state’s anticorruption promises, its emphasis on governance, and its appeal to Chinese nationalism and civilization have fostered an im- plicit state- society pact, a grand bargain of sorts, that the po liti cal status quo— a one- party system monopolized by a small group of elites with the assurance of reasonable per for mance, social stability, and continued economic growth— shall remain unchallenged. In the realm of new media, such an arrange- ment has translated into a form of “informational authoritarianism” that combines capitalism, authoritarianism, and Confucianism to institute state regulation, as well as widespread self- censorship among Internet ser vice/ content providers and users.10

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The Coevolution of the Internet 31

While much of the previous literature tends to focus on grassroots empowerment,11 or disempowerment,12 this chapter argues for a dialectic coevolution of the state and an emerging Chinese civil society mediated via the Internet. Th e grassroots empowerment narrative focuses on the Inter- net’s decentralized structure, low cost, greater access to information/ideas, communication speed, user interactivity, connectivity across space, online dissent, or ga ni za tion, and mobilization. On the other hand, the disempow- erment thesis emphasizes state control of Internet infrastructure, prohibi- tion of po liti cally sensitive content, regulation of ICP/ISP, state surveillance of netizens, and rampant self- censorship, as well as commercialization, entertainment, slacktivism, and distraction away from critical social issues and real changes.

Does the widespread adoption of social media in China alter the balance of power between the state and the emerging civil society? In what ways does it contribute to citizen empowerment? How have authorities adjusted to contain public opinion? Taking the perspective of a coevolution of the Internet, (un)civil society, and authoritarianism in China, in what follows, I discuss the most recent development of the Chinese Internet and new media, particularly the rise and fall of Sina Weibo (China’s Twitter) since August 2009.

Online Activism and (Un)Civil Society

As many Chinese are now connected via mobile social networks, digital ac- tivism has acquired new characteristics. I highlight in the following: (1) real- time activism, (2) online po liti cal jamming, (3) weibo celebrities, and (4) the rise of an uncivil society online.

Real- Time Activism

Th e arrival of mobile microblogging and photo sharing makes possible the instantaneous broadcast of an unfolding event over the Internet and social networks. With deeper integration of the mobile web into people’s everyday life, a new genre of media activism— real- time activism— has emerged as Chi- nese netizens start to document and amplify anything they fi nd provocative, scandalous, and intriguing in real time. Some accidentally become national

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32 Min Jiang

or international news and even lead to policy change as they tap into wide- spread public sentiment and deep- seated social problems.

Speaking at a public lecture at Peking University in June 2010, propaganda offi cial Li Baozhu proudly announced: “With a wave of my hand, tens of mil- lions of posts about the Deng Yujiao incident were all deleted.”13 Th e comment, accompanied by live pictures, was quickly circulated on Chinese microblog- ging before being taken down by commercial portals soon aft erward.

One of the most prominent cases of real- time activism concerns the Wenzhou train collision. On July  23, 2011, two high- speed trains crashed into each other at 8:34 p.m. near Wenzhou, a coastal city in southeast China, causing four cars to fall out of a sixty- foot- tall viaduct and resulting in forty deaths. Four minutes aft er the accident, a Sina Weibo user posted the fi rst tweet about the accident. Nine minutes later, a desperate plea for help was posted on Sina Weibo, retweeted more than one hundred thousand times (later censored): “A cry for help! Train D301 has been derailed not far from Wenzhou station. Children are crying up and down the carriage. No staff member has come out! Hurry up and save us!” Two hours aft erward, the fi rst tweet about rescue relief was sent from the scene and government appeal for blood donations was put on Sina Weibo. Later, a user’s tweets from the blood donation clinic were reposted more than one hundred thousand times.14

At a time of crisis when offi cial media are absent or barred from report- ing, social media users become de facto reporters on the scene, giving ac- counts in real time. Weibo is oft en chosen in China to break such news not only because of its speed or con ve nience but also because of its connected- ness and publicness. Deeply embedded in users’ social relationships and everyday life and used by many professional reporters, weibo was highly conducive to the spread of critical news and information before stricter reg- ulations were imposed by authorities later to rein in public opinion and spread “positive energy.”15 A week aft er the accident, more than 10 million comments about the crash had been posted on Sina Weibo, nearly all of them angry, questioning authorities’ rescue eff orts, the hasty burial of evidence, and the truth behind the accident.16

Few social media users are activists, yet oft en by accident their fi rsthand accounts, when widely circulated, form the basis of truth and public dis- course. Within twenty- four hours aft er the accident, video clips of authori- ties burying a train carriage spread like wildfi re online.17 People believed they were “burying the truth.” Aft er offi cial media announced the end of rescue eff orts merely eight hours aft er the crash, the survival of “miracle girl,” two-

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The Coevolution of the Internet 33

year- old Yiyi, whose parents died in the crash, further fueled online fury.18 In response to reporters’ charge that the Ministry of Railways was trying to thwart investigation, the ministry spokesman haplessly commented: “Whether or not you believe it, I believe it,” which immediately took fl ight as an Internet meme. Even offi cial media turned up the heat on the ministry. State tele vi sion CCTV anchor Qiu Qiming veered from his script and asked on air: “Can we drink a glass of milk that is safe? Can we stay in an apartment that will not fall apart? Can we travel roads in our cities that will not collapse?”19

Th e hastily constructed railways under Minister “Great Leap Liu,” as an offi cial report later revealed, were plagued with safety hazards due to infe- rior engineering, poor management, and systemic corruption. Th e minister was sacked for embezzling millions of dollars from public projects. Conse- quently, the world’s largest and fastest railway, Harmony Express, one of China’s proudest modern achievements, has come to represent recklessness and fraud.20 In this case, real- time activism, in the form of civic journalism and public criticism, played a crucial role in helping uncover the truth by keeping the pressure on the government. Media of all kinds— old and new, grassroots and offi cial— participated in exposing the iconic failure of govern- ment per for mance that in large mea sure violated the grand bargain of mod- ern Chinese politics that allows the Party to “reign unchallenged as long as it is reasonably competent.”21 However, weibo’s connectedness and public- ness, as the chapter will later explain, have come under increasing state scru- tiny as the government propaganda apparatus begins to pressure commercial operators to fi lter around the clock and silence infl uential users online.

Online Po liti cal Jamming

Not only can activism in the social media age occur in real time; its style has also taken a more playful turn to evade censors and reach larger publics. On- line po liti cal jamming— the use of digital media and pop u lar culture to dis- seminate dissenting images and viewpoints, disrupt stultifying mainstream po liti cal discourses, and expose social injustices— borrows from “cultural jamming” practices that target and subvert mainstream corporate culture and ideologies.22 Like cultural jams, online po liti cal jamming challenges dominant po liti cal discourses by producing and distributing counter- hegemonic messages via new media: logos are reconfi gured, images Photo- shopped, pop u lar fi lms clips remixed, and pop culture references appropriated

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34 Min Jiang

and distributed via digital networks.23 Not only are such practices rooted in parody as a powerful tool of po liti cal re sis tance worldwide throughout hu- man history, to which China is not an exception; they have acquired new genres, features, and potency in Chinese cyberspace, creating an alternative carnivalesque world of freedom and laughter where the rich and powerful are ridiculed and subverted.24

Similar to its Western counterparts, online po liti cal jamming in China has spread acerbic critique of contemporary Chinese politics cloaked in frisky artistic forms and helped energize acts of social and po liti cal activ- ism. For instance, Chen Guangcheng, a famous Chinese human rights activist and self- taught blind lawyer, is internationally recognized for or ga- niz ing a landmark class- action lawsuit against authorities’ abuses in family- planning practices in Linyi, Shandong. Aft er serving four years in prison, he was released in 2010 and was under house arrest until his remarkable escape to the  U.S. embassy in Beijing in April 2012. To protest against the brutal treatment of Chen, his supporters made stickers, the size of a booklet cover, featuring a stylized graphic of Chen’s face with his signature sunglasses (see fi gure 1.1), modeled aft er the logo of KFC, a well- known U.S. fast- food chain in China. “Pearl Her,” a Chen supporter, reportedly had four thousand of these stickers produced and asked fellow supporters to put them on their cars. A Google Maps page was also set up for a “FREE CGC Car Sticker Club” where supporters who had put the sticker on their cars could register their approximate locations. She remarked: “dissidents have traditionally been quite confrontational with the government. . . . But we should learn how to express ourselves and protest in an orderly way, to use art and enter- tainment more freely. It is like Occupy Wall Street.”25

Another FREE CGC’s participatory act is the Dark Glasses Portrait campaign (see fi gure 1.2). To support Chen, an anonymous Chinese artist, “Crazy Cab,” began to solicit and curate digital photos of netizens wearing the blind activist’s signature sunglasses in 2012. Viewed in isolation, each photo did not trip censors. When aggregated, however, these photos evolved into a powerful and continuous picture wall, reminding people of the hoodie- wearing campaign for Trayvon Martin in the United States and the hijab “Be a Man” photo drive showing solidarity for the Ira nian Green Movement.26 As an act of guerrilla activism, the campaign was designed to avoid censor- ship, as authorities cannot possibly round up everyone wearing sunglasses.27

Such acts of “serious parody” are examples of Chinese activists’ appro- priation of cultural jam techniques for digital po liti cal activism.28 Cultural

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The Coevolution of the Internet 35

or po liti cal jamming, Cammerts explains, draws inspirations from art move- ments of Dadaism, Surrealism, Fluxus, and Situationism.29 It borrows from Dadaism the idea of assigning diff erent meanings to objects, exemplifi ed in the art work of Marcel Duchamp, who famously dubbed a urinal art and named it Fountain. Likewise, the “FREE CGC” sticker recoded the ready- made KFC logo with disruptive meanings. In addition, cultural jamming adopts the optical illusion practice of Surrealism, cleverly designed to confuse the viewer. Th e “FREE CGC” sticker clearly baffl ed the Chinese police, who did not notice them. “And if they ask what Free CGC means, we say it is free KFC,” says an activist.30 Moreover, po liti cal jamming follows Fluxus’s principle of integrating social action in the fl ux of everyday life, blending art and social

Figure 1.1. Source (original source unknown): http:// newnation . sg / tag / obama - fried - chicken/ (New Nation, a Singapore- based online publication, has granted the author permis- sion to reuse the image for this chapter).

Figure 1.2. Source (screenshot): http:// ichenguangcheng . blogspot . com / . Site creator has chosen to remain anonymous.

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36 Min Jiang

critique into a form of counter- artistic movement. In the “FREE CGC” case, not only did activists produce and distribute stickers online; more important, participants integrated activism into both material (for example, a car) and immaterial (for example, performing) aspects of their daily life. Lastly, po liti cal jamming is détournement, or rerouting, in the Situationist sense. By hijacking the original artwork, détournement, like the “FREE CGC” sticker, situates new po liti cal messages in existing consumerist culture and public spaces, both online and offl ine.

Th is new type of “art as po liti cal act” in the Chinese activism scene owes a debt to famed Chinese artist- activist Ai Weiwei. A student of Duchamp, Ai views art not as something detached from society or transcending so- called ordinary people but part of everyday life and experiences. “If artists betray the social conscience and the basic principles of being human, where does art stand then?” Ai asks.31 A provocateur who dares to pose nude to con- demn the Party and give the middle fi nger to iconic buildings around the world, including the Tiananmen and the White House, Ai also led notable eff orts that combined art and digital activism. Between 2008 and 2009, he investigated student casualties due to the collapse of “tofu- dreg” (shoddy) school buildings in the aft ermath of the Sichuan earthquake. A list of 5,385 names was collected, for which he was severely beaten. To mourn the dead and shame authorities who refused to release students’ names, the list was printed on white paper, each name read aloud and recorded by strangers who volunteered to participate in digital art making.32 In both cases, social me- dia facilitated the diff usion of po liti cal jamming to larger publics and helped coordinate large- scale per for mances in a participatory manner. However, the impact of po liti cal jamming is not impossible to control if the state resorts to more forceful means to suppress activists and diff use poorly coordinated actions.

Weibo Celebrities

Besides real- time activism and po liti cal jamming, the role of weibo celebri- ties in China’s emerging civil society is worth noting. By introducing distinct identities, information, and worldviews, weibo celebrities tend to foster plural- ity and fragmentation simultaneously. Here, weibo celebrities refers to users on Chinese microblogging platforms with large numbers of followers. Known as “Big Vs,” their accounts are usually verifi ed, designated with a V.

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The Coevolution of the Internet 37

In January 2015, all top ten Sina Weibo celebrities had more than 40 million fans. Among them, “Weibo King,” actor Chen Kun, had more than 73 million. “Weibo Queen,” Yao Chen, had 72 million. While many of these celebrities are entertainers, others, such as Kai-fu Lee, ex- CEO of Google China, also have more than 50 million followers.33 Copying its celebrity- driven business approach from blogging to microblogging, Sina Corporation has actively cultivated its “stars” and a celebrity culture from sports, entertainment, and media to real estate, science, and technology to drive online discussion, traf- fi c, and ultimately profi t. Although Sina Weibo’s user base has witnessed a signifi cant loss to Tencent’s WeChat, a group- chat social media platform, Weibo remains as China’s “public forum,” central to the publicness of Chinese social media.

Weibo celebrities, a new breed of opinion leaders in the social media age, hold considerable sway in China’s public opinion space. Compared with the 80- million- member Chinese Communist Party, weibo celebrities’ fans are for- midable both in numbers and loyalty. As many offi cial media are not held in high esteem in China, weibo celebrities with their expertise, charisma, and authority are an important source of alternative news, information, and opin- ions to millions. Although opinion leaders and public opinion formation are certainly not new in China,34 or elsewhere,35 weibo has arguably altered in no small mea sure Chinese microbloggers’ access to news and information, their relation to one another and social elites, public opinion formation, and even online activism mechanisms.

Th e public campaign against child traffi cking “Take a Photo, Save a Child” is one such example. It was started in 2011 on Sina Weibo by Profes- sor Yu Jianrong, a weibo celebrity known for his support for social justice issues. Soon, a microblog site was launched for people to post photos of child beggars in the hope to re unite parents with their kidnapped children. More than 175,000 people joined the eff ort and posted more than twenty- fi ve hundred photographs. Supported by ultra- weibo celebrities like Yao Chen and Kai-fu Lee and sanctioned by the state, the campaign garnered a great deal of attention. It also made weibo celebrities out of grassroots advocates such as Deng Fei, a journalist from Phoenix Weekly, and Charles Xue, a Chinese American angel investor. Although only a few children were successfully identifi ed and re united with their families as a result of this campaign, the charitable eff ort raised widespread social awareness and solicited long- term commitment from Jet Li’s One Foundation and legislative support.36

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38 Min Jiang

Weibo celebrities’ contribution to such charity causes and similar episodes of civic activism have benefi ted from weibo’s functionalities and sociality and weibo celebrities’ infl uence. Although these celebrities’ po- liti cal impact is under the constant surveillance of commercial operators and authorities, their posts oft en blur the boundaries between self- media and public media, private lives and public issues. In his exuberantly optimistic book, Weibo Changes Everything, Kai-fu Lee compares weibo users with ten thousand fans with magazine own ers, those with one hundred thousand fans to regional newspaper publishers, and those with 1 million or even 10 million followers to having the infl uence of national papers and national TV stations. Celebrity posts are no longer self- talk but public talk.37

Oft en critical of social ills, top weibo celebrities, such as real estate ty- coons Ren Zhiqiang and Pan Shiyi, IT elite CEO Kai-fu Lee, and economists Mao Yushi and Lang Xianping, exert considerable infl uence. Th ese public fi gures use weibo not only as a PR tool to cultivate their personal image but also as a means to express their views and infl uence the public. Moreover, the separation between private lives and public issues has become increas- ingly artifi cial and fl uid for weibo celebrities. For instance, research fi nds that between October and November 2011, one- fi ft h of “Weibo Queen” Yao Chen’s posts concerned public issues rather than topics about entertainment or herself.38 Her revelation of her distant relatives’ experience of forced de- mo li tion put the social issue at the front and center of her followers’ minds. Another weibo celebrity’s, Luo Yonghao’s, public smashing of Siemens’s faulty refrigerators and CCTV anchor Zhang Quanling’s post about erro- neous ads on Baidu also put these companies in the public spotlight, chan- neling personal frustrations and driving public discourse.39

The Uncivil Society Online

However, like previous web technological changes, weibo’s impact on Chi- na’s emergent civil society and activism is highly mixed. Not all weibo ce- lebrities are civil in their discourse or online behavior. Besides individuals and groups conducive to the expansion of open discussion and growth of an emergent civil society, more radical and extreme personalities and groups have thrived as well. Th e coexistence of groups of diametrically opposed ideologies has led to considerable slanging matches, online verbal abuse, and even public brawls in the street. In addition, “50 cents,” or paid pro-

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The Coevolution of the Internet 39

government online commentators reportedly reaching 2 million,40 have fl ooded weibo and other pop u lar online spaces, breeding substantial confu- sion and discursive frictions.41 As a result, public discourses and opinions formed in such online spaces are not necessarily coherent or always pro- ductive, and they have grown more fragmentary, polarized, theatrical, and cynical over time, culminating in the phenomenal pop u lar rejection of “public intellectuals.”

For instance, Kong Qingdong, a professor of Chinese at Peking Univer- sity and a descendant of Confucius, is a highly controversial weibo celebrity. On January 24, 2012, during an interview on Chinese news site v1.cn, he openly cursed Hong Kong residents as dogs of the British Empire: “As far as I know, many Hong Kong people don’t regard themselves as Chinese. Th ose kinds of people are used to being the dogs of British colonialists— they are dogs, not humans.” 42 Refusing to apologize for it, he defended his remarks as “free speech.” 43 On the Chinese Internet, Kong, Zhang Hongliang, Sima Nan, and Wu Fatian are popularly referred to as the “New Four Arch Evils” in China.44 Appealing to pop u lism, nationalism, Maoism, and even the Cultural Revolution, these Far Left fi gures known for their ultra- nationalistic, anti- West, anticapitalist stance amassed a considerable following online for their defense of “the people” against “the elite.” 45

Social media not only amplifi ed the voices of such extremists and fueled fragmentation and polarization but, perhaps more important, helped disman- tle the “public intellectual” in China. In a most theatrical fashion in 2012, the high- profi le weibo debate between Han Han and Fang Zhouzi and the physical brawl started on weibo between Wu Fatian and Zhou Yan enveloped Chinese netizens in deep cynicism. “Public intellectual,” defi ned in contem- porary China by infl uential metropolitan paper Southern Daily’s supplement Southern People Weekly as “knowledgeable, progressive and critical individ- uals who actively engage in public aff airs,” has become a label to be shunned like a plague by online celebrities.46

Before the arrival of weibo, Han Han was already a literary star and pub- lic fi gure. His blogs were read by tens of millions and in Time magazine’s 2010 “Time 100” poll, Han Han, at twenty- seven, came in second.47 For many, es- pecially Chinese youth, Han Han is the ultimate nonconformist: a high school literary competition winner and dropout, a pop u lar blogger, a best- selling author, a singer, and most recently a professional racecar driver. An out- spoken critic against China’s establishment with snarky wit, Han Han is the unoffi cial rebel voice of his generation.48 Fang Zhouzi’s fl ame war with Han

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40 Min Jiang

Han started in mid- January 2012. Following Han Han’s three controversial po liti cal posts on revolution, democracy, and freedom, blogger Mai Tian accused Han Han of being the front man of a team of ghostwriters and promoters. Aft er Mai Tian withdrew his accusation as a result of counter- evidence, Fang picked up the crusade and engaged Han Han in a war of words over the authenticity of Han’s work.49 Fang Zhouzi is known in China as a fraud buster, having brought down most prominently Tang Jun, former pres- ident of MSN China, for lying about his PhD degree. Th eir wrangle, broad- cast live from Sina Weibo, polarized not only China’s literary, media, and intellectual circles, who split into a “Han camp” and a “Fang camp”; it most tragically alienated millions of weibo users disappointed by the malicious lan- guage and behavior of the so- called public intellectuals online. Both camps used the same derogatory labels— “50 Cents” and “residual toxin of the Cultural Revolution”—to condemn each other. Although their debate fi zzled because of lack of evidence off ered by either side, the spectacle they cre- ated in China’s public life cast deep skepticism on both public fi gures and Chinese intellectuals in general.50

However, the most dramatic uncivil dispute is the physical fi ght between Wu Fatian and Zhou Yan, started and arranged over weibo and known as “Weibo Brawl.” Wu Danhong, or “Wu Fatian” online, was an assistant pro- fessor at Beijing University of Po liti cal Science and Law whose staunch de- fense of the Party had earned him the “Advanced 50 Cents” badge.51 On July 3, 2012, Wu posted a tweet on Sina Weibo supporting the construction of a questionable metal refi nery plant in Shifang, Sichuan Province, that had sparked local protests and been halted. His remarks infuriated Zhou Yan, a Sichuan TV reporter empathetic to the protest. An exchange of insults quickly escalated to a fi ght appointment at Beijing Chaoyang Park on July 6, 2012, that drew onlookers online and offl ine. Videos of the encounter circulated widely aft erward, including footage of Ai Weiwei trying to attack Wu, a trans- gression some said they were willing to forgive because it was Wu Fatian.52 Yet the public was not so forgiving of the ways “public intellectuals,” espe- cially the well- educated democracy- loving liberals, behaved at the scene. Th e transition from verbal abuse to physical attack on Wu Fatian shocked and disappointed many sympathetic to liberal views in China, prompting some to remark that the brawl smeared the image of liberals and in eff ect made more room for those opposing liberal and demo cratic views in China.53

Following these high- profi le incidents, “public intellectual” has turned into a widely accepted pejorative in China. Not only is the hooliganization

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The Coevolution of the Internet 41

of public intellectuals a tragic turn of China’s emerging civil society, it also casts serious doubt on the conducive role that the Internet is thought to have played in the development of China’s emergent civil society. Instead, through social media, paid commentators, and self- seeking personalities, abrasive exchanges between ideological factions have propelled the Chinese online space to be more fragmentary, polarized, theatrical, and cynical over time.

Control Regime in Action

To respond to new forms of digital activism and curb the po liti cal con- sequences of social media, China’s control regime has implemented various new mea sures besides fi ltering and hiring pro- state commentators to fore- stall collective actions. Two are highlighted here: (1) real name registration policy and (2) anti- rumor campaigns.

Real Name Registration Policy

Th e rapid growth of the weibo user base from nil to 278 million in three years worried authorities.54 During its ascendance, Chinese weibo has witnessed many explosive exposures of corrupt offi cials, government unaccountability, and social injustices, thriving as the cyber epicenter of China’s sociopo liti cal lives. Weibo’s aff ordances and deep integration into China’s public life are regulatory nightmares. To curtail public rage on weibo, Beijing Municipal Provisions for Microblog Development and Management (Microblog Provi- sions hereaft er) was promulgated on December 16, 2011, targeting more than a dozen microblog ser vice providers headquartered in Beijing, especially Sina Weibo.55 Such provisions required weibo operators to implement real name registration by March 16, 2012.

Ostensibly promoted by the state to tame online rumors and safeguard a healthy online environment, the policy is seen as an offi cial tactic to curb public discourse, targeting each microblogger.56 Specifi cally, users are ex- pected to register their IDs with weibo as mandated by the state. Following the principle “front stage voluntary, backstage real name,” microbloggers can use pseudo user names, but they are asked to register their real identi- ties backstage with weibo operators, linked to their national ID cards, mobile phone numbers, or other identifi cations. Weibo businesses maintain their

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servers do not retain user ID information, but users’ national ID card in- formation will be compared against public security’s database to verify user identity. Unregistered users can view microblogs but cannot post or pass along any.57 By March  2012, Sina reportedly had verifi ed 60  percent of its users.58 In December 2012, the policy was passed as law in the National Peo- ple’s Congress.59 Th e State Council expected major portal websites to verify user identity by June 2014, although, to date it is not clear how many users have registered with their real identities.60

Specifi cally, Article 8 of the Microblog Provisions requires microblog- ging ser vice providers (MSPs) to “build a comprehensive system of con- tent evaluation and monitor the production, reproduction, publication, and distribution of microblog information.” 61 Article 9 stipulates: “Any or ga ni za tion or individual . . . must register with real name. Th e use of fake or stolen ID cards, business registration information, or or ga ni za tion code is forbidden. Websites that off er microblog ser vice should ensure the truth- fulness of user registration information.” Additionally, Article 5 eff ectively legalizes censorship by commercial intermediaries. In December 2012, the real name registration policy was endorsed by the National People’s Con- gress Decision on Strengthening Internet Information Protection, which requires all ISPs to collect users’ real names when providing Internet con- nection, analog phones, mobile phones, or information publishing.62

Th ese top- down mandates triggered a heated debate among weibo operators and users. Tencent CEO, Ma Huateng, publicly opposed the policy, arguing that it poses a great threat to user privacy and security and places an unreasonable burden on ISPs. Ma’s sentiments were echoed by Chen Tong, Sina’s editor in chief, who argued back in 2005 that the indiscriminate adoption of real name policy was unlikely to deter slander or other illegal activities.63 However, unable to resist state pressures, Sina, for instance, reportedly hired more than a thousand people to manually monitor and delete weibo posts around the clock besides using computational fi ltering and encouraging weibo users to fl ag abusive users.64

Regulators brushed aside public concerns for privacy and rights to expres- sion, stressing instead reducing “pornography, rumors, slander, fake identi- ties that threaten network security and social stability.” 65 Downplaying the policy’s chilling eff ects, China Central Tele vi sion (CCTV) deleted its own news on the bankruptcy of South Korea’s real name registration policy.66 State media also actively promoted stories that gave citizens the false impression

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The Coevolution of the Internet 43

that such a policy was prevalent elsewhere in the world. Li Yizhong, the for- mer minister of industry and information, publicly stated: “Internet real name registration, according to our research, is adopted by most countries.” 67 While “real name” sites like Facebook are pop u lar around the world, they are not mandated by the state or connected to users’ national IDs. Li’s comments were fl atly rejected by some. One user remarked: “Th ere are many such ‘mosts.’ Most countries have competitive elections. Most countries’ offi cials publish their property rec ords. Most countries’ highways are free. Most coun- tries don’t limit the mobility of their residents through Hukou system. Most countries have press freedom.” 68 Authorities’ impulse to control information fl ow and public opinion through the real name registration policy is not new, but the speed and extent to which the policy has been pushed through with- out strong public opposition is alarming.

Anti- Rumor Campaigns

Th e rollout of real name registration policy may be considered part of Chinese authorities’ much larger campaign to regulate speech online. Besides encouraging weibo users to self- censor through legislation, the latest anti- rumor campaign also employs judicial decisions and extralegal tactics to achieve the state’s regulatory goals, targeting in par tic u lar weibo celebrities, or “Big Vs.”

In September 2013, China’s highest court handed down a judicial deci- sion, announcing stiff penalties for posting rumors that get shared fi ve hun- dred times or seen fi ve thousand times.69 A convicted off ense could carry a three- year jail sentence, a ruling deemed by many as setting a dangerous pre- ce dent for free speech despite reported cases of fabricated rumors for money and infl uence. Th e fi rst person to run afoul of the law was an outspoken sixteen- year- old, Yang Hui, who questioned the local police investigation of a suicide case in Gansu Province. Th e police’s evidence, he argued, was highly inadequate. His accusation quickly went viral. But it turns out Yang’s “rumor” was right. Th e police’s case eventually collapsed, and the local police chief was suspended. Yang was released. China Daily, however, calls the incident “an accident.”70 In a fundamentally fl awed legal system, “rumor” is oft en used as a means of social protest and proves to have an unusual degree of truth and accuracy in China.71 Instead of increasing government transparency

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and responsiveness, the state’s demonization of “rumor” produces a chill- ing eff ect on the public’s ability to know, to question, and to act.

Th e most prominent cases of state rumor campaigns were orchestrated via offi cial Chinese media. One targeted a vocal Chinese American weibo celebrity and investor Charles Xue and another New Express reporter Chen Yongzhou. Known as “Xue Manzi” on the Chinese Internet, Xue became fa- mous for championing several charity causes, including the 2011 campaign against child traffi cking and his initiative to ask netizens to pitch projects over weibo for which he provided angel investment. By the time he was arrested for prostitution solicitation on August 23, 2013, he had more than 12 million weibo followers. It was widely speculated that Xue’s criticism of social and police issues prompted the detention. In early August, Xue was among a group of “Big Vs” invited to meet with the head of the State Internet Infor- mation Offi ce (SIIO), who urged the group to be more constructive in their online postings. It seems offi cials did not deem his per for mance adequate. Paraded on state tele vi sion CCTV, Xue appeared rueful in jail clothes and confessed his wrongdoing. Even Hu Xijin, editor in chief of Party paper Global Times, commented on Sina Weibo (later removed): “Using sexual scandal, tax evasion and so on to take down po liti cal foes is a hidden rule common among governments worldwide.”72 By making an example of Xue, the state shamed a few “Big Vs” and intimidated others.

Equally gripping is the Chen Yongzhou incident. Chen was detained in Guangzhou by Changsha police on October 18, 2013, for allegedly defaming Changsha- based, state- owned Zoomlion Heavy Industry Science & Technol- ogy, China’s second- largest heavy equipment maker. On October 23 and 24, New Express printed extra- large- font headlines calling for Chen’s release, a move seen as an unpre ce dented call for press freedom. On October 26, Chen appeared in a nine- minute national TV broadcast confessing to fi ling stories in exchange for payment from an outside company. Th e story exploded on Chinese social media with many expressing sympathy for Chen and dis- approving of police and CCTV’s abuse of power. Although journalism fraud and bribing is a real issue, people noted the following: Changsha police ar- rived in Guangzhou in Zoomlion’s car; the state- owned company is well connected with local and national authorities; Chen is known for diligent fact- checking and journalist ethics; the CCTV story did not name the third party bribing Chen but obtained and aired Chen’s confessions prior to court trial.73 Th e truth may never be known, but the “killing the monkey to scare

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The Coevolution of the Internet 45

the chicken” tactic is unlikely to be eff ective in eradicating rumors or people’s challenges to authorities in China in the long run.

Refl ections on the (Un)Civil Society

Th e chapter argues that in the social media era, the coevolution of the Inter- net, civil society, and authoritarianism has produced a mixed impact on China’s sociopo liti cal lives. A few new trends of China’s Internet and online activism are surveyed in the chapter, including real- time activism, online po liti cal jamming, weibo celebrities, and the rise of an uncivil online society. Th e state’s containment of public opinion on Chinese social media via legal and extralegal means, such as the real name registration policy and anti- rumor campaigns, are also discussed. In addition, the amplifi cation of both civil and uncivil tendencies on the Chinese Internet has engendered a greater degree of fragmentation, polarization, and cynicism among Chinese netizens for which previous literature on Chinese online civic spaces has not ade- quately accounted.

“Uncivil society” is highlighted here to draw attention to the diffi culty of creating and sustaining civil society, particularly in the Chinese context. Previously, three schools of thought dominated the understanding of civil society: civil society as associational life; civil society as the good society re- sulting from free association; and civil society as the public sphere where citizens engage in discussions over public issues and arrive at consensus.74 Th ese three related views of civil society point to the necessity to build voluntary associations based on tolerance and cooperation, eff ective insti- tutions that produce good government, and the capacity to deliberate demo- cratically. Implicit in these dominant views of civil society are positive assumptions about human nature, consensus formation, and institution building, views that have been critiqued by many for being incapable of recognizing the “agonistic pluralism” world in which we live.75 By remov- ing power considerations and basing deliberation purely on rationality and morality, Habermas’s construction of the public sphere and civil society, though desirable, is seen as far too idealistic, detached from reality.76

Applying the concept of civil society to China encounters additional challenges. While Mouff e’s departure from “public sphere” and introduction of “agonistic pluralism” recognize social confl icts with productive potentials,

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this agonism still rests on an “adhesion to the ethico- political principles of democracy” that is feeble if not absent in China.77 With limited protection for individual rights and arbitrary practice of the rule of law, Chinese poli- tics is dominated by struggles between elite factions at the very top;78 con- fl icts between diff erent social, economic, and ideological strata; and multiple confrontations between the state and the citizenry.79 Ultimately, authori- tarian order and opaque operations of power pose fundamental threats to China’s emerging civil society.80

“Uncivil society online” is used here to capture the extreme incivility of online exchanges between individuals and groups over public issues, which not only fail to produce solutions to problems but also accentuate group identities and widen the ideological chasms between them. Th is notion underscores the following: (1) the plentitude of disrespect between inter- locutors, (2) schisms between groups in ideology and values, and (3) inad- equate mechanisms to channel online exchanges to build eff ective civic institutions. One may reasonably argue that “uncivil society” is not a China- specifi c phenomenon. Th e crisis in democracy experienced in many West- ern societies today— systemic corruption, widespread po liti cal apathy, and failed governance—is also accompanied by an “uncivil” turn in civic life; however, China’s “uncivil society” is embedded in its own unique historical, economic, and sociopo liti cal contexts.81

Further, a conceptualization of civil society as purely oppositional to the state is limiting. On the one hand, it tends to equate “civil society” with “po liti cal society,” and, on the other, it downplays the heterogeneous groups inhabiting the “civil society” space and becomes increasingly inadequate to capture the complex dynamics on the ground.82 As a much larger and diverse Chinese population, rather than a small group of liberal elites, has come to adopt the Internet, the implicit assumption of a liberal subject demanding social justice, media freedom, and po liti cal reforms online may be limited. A rising cacophony nowadays stems not only from contentions between the state and grassroots oppositions but also between various factions of “civil society” groups, including po liti cally conservative, chauvinist, nationalistic, and apathetic subjects and businesses.83

While civil society is commonly associated with the third space, distinct from the private sphere, government, and business as a groundswell for ac- tivism against authorities, in reality the variety of individuals and groups making up “civil society” and the interactions between them are oft en far too complex to be reduced to a linear formula of “civil society = public

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The Coevolution of the Internet 47

sphere = NGOs = empowerment.”84 On the darker side, civil society can include the Mafi a and terrorists.85 In less extreme forms, members of civil so- ciety can include po liti cal opportunists, nationalist ideologues, and reaction- aries. Moreover, civil society’s conceptual in de pen dence from the state and commercial interest oft en fails to translate straightforwardly in practice. Far from it, civil society groups such as human rights organizations in authoritar- ian countries and anticapitalist associations are oft en the targets of state and corporate co- optation.86 Conversely, ideologue factions and trade as- sociations too can seek to infl uence po liti cal and fi nancial authorities.

Th e problematization of “civil society” thus invites a more critical and nuanced reading and analysis of China’s emergent civil society and its en- gagement with the Internet and social media. Previously, for instance, Le and Yang noted that the various strains of China’s online sociopo liti cal discourses can be grouped into fi ve major ideological orientations: Far Left , moderate left , neutral, moderate right, Far Right.87 Netizens’ attitudes toward a unifi ed Chinese nation, Chinese government’s policies, traditional Chinese culture, and Western po liti cal/economic systems oft en guide their choices of online groups, discourses, and interactions with others online. A 2013 mainland China national online survey conducted by Ma and Zhang reveals that among Chinese netizens, “rightists” (those who favor rule of law, protection of personal rights and freedoms, and market economy) constitute 38.7 percent; “left ists” (those who strongly support nationalism and oppose Western po liti cal and eco- nomic systems) make up only 6.2 percent; while the majority are centrists at 55.1 percent. Zhang’s national survey published in 2012, however, fi nds left ists constitute 38.1  percent of Chinese citizens, rightists 8  percent, and centrists 51.5 percent.88 Due to the surveys’ inherent research limitations (for example, the representativeness of survey participants), the opposing statistics they of- fered failed to produce conclusive evidence of the ideological makeup of Chi- nese citizens. However, it seems the identifi cation of such ideological groupings and their potential consensus could be a productive route to understanding the changing Chinese civic spaces besides various forms of social stratifi ca- tion along class, gender, race, generational, and rural- urban fault lines.

Conclusion

Although social media platforms such as Sina Weibo provide technological aff ordances for instantaneous communication and endless possibilities of

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group formation, their capacity for civic empowerment is mediated through many factors, including grassroots demands and or ga ni za tion, state inter- vention, and Internet ser vice providers’ policies and practices, as well as the civic groups’ interactions with one another. Social media can serve as a crit- ical space for expressing and channeling public opinion in China, but they are unlikely to be the ultimate game changer. Th e ability of the Internet to transform social and po liti cal realities increasingly needs to suffi ciently ac- count for the eff ect of divergent cyber subjectivities and a wider range of so- cial, economic, and po liti cal factors beyond merely considering the Internet’s technological impact on the state or the grass roots in general.

Such a transition would require a more sophisticated framework to dis- sect the heterogeneous components that make up China’s online civic spaces today without losing sight of the power the authoritarian state can assert over the society or the power of individuals to expand their spheres of infl uences. It also means to take into account both civil and uncivil elements of China’s emergent civil society and their appropriation of new media for identity for- mation and collective mobilization. Previous work has examined in- depth Internet use by diverse civic groups: dissidents, working class, nationalists, activists, environmentalists, urban youth, and young migrant women.89 Each of the subgroups carries distinct yet mixed attitudes toward and demands for the state, the market, and other social strata. Together, they oft en render the emergent Chinese civil society “praetorian,” swirling in extensive and sometimes very intensive po liti cal participation without being channeled eff ectively through formal institutions.90

Positive development of public spaces and power relations in China re- lies as much on institutional politics to eff ectively channel public opinion as it does on identity politics and progressive changes in subjectivity through everyday life interactions. While the Internet mediates such negotiations and is increasingly indispensable to the parties involved, it does not determine their outcomes. Th e contextualized use of the Internet and new media, shaped by the social, cultural, and po liti cal protocols surrounding such technologies, ultimately does.

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