In the post translated below, from the WeChat public account History Rhymes, commentator Xu Peng argues that reporting on rising food prices in Japan has sensationalized and exaggerated the issue. Xu cites posts from two official sources, Henan’s Dahe Daily and China News Service, featuring a 23-year-old woman from Ehime who eats only one meal every two days. "This might sound like a personal lifestyle choice," the China News Service article says, "but pairing it with another news item reveals the underlying problem. The IMF’s latest World Economic Outlook report predicts that by 2027, Japan’s nominal GDP will be surpassed by India’s and the U.K.’s, sliding from fourth to sixth place worldwide." Food prices have been a real problem for many Japanese, especially vulnerable groups, but the survey report at the root of the story overwhelmingly framed its findings in lifestyle terms: only 14% of meal-skippers said they did it to save money (peaking at 18.6% for 25-29-year-olds), far behind lack of time (31.4% overall) or hunger (25.7% overall). "The media can’t pull weird stunts like this just to drum up traffic," Xu concludes. "Young Japanese aren’t canceling meals—the traffic-obsessed media have canceled their own standards."

I saw a really ridiculous news story today. A lot of media are reporting that young Japanese people are "canceling meals."

"People are iron, food is steel; you’ll suffer if you miss a meal." Are these young Japanese doing some kind of Daoist immortality cultivation? "Canceling meals," really?

Look more closely, and you’ll realize that this is about one 23-year-old woman who eats once every two days because of soaring meat and vegetable prices, so she just doesn’t eat now.

And it describes her as an "extreme enthusiast" for canceling meals.

Then we hear about reports from Japanese media, saying young people there are prioritizing spending time on hobbies and socializing over bathing and cooking. How does this amount to "canceling meals"? Obviously if you’re gaming with friends, meals can wait.

And if people have canceled cooking, does this mean they’re "canceling meals"? How many people order delivery these days?

According to survey data from the Japanese organization INTAGE, about 34% of the 15–49 age group choose to skip at least one meal a week. For 18-to-24-year-olds, this leaps to 41%. Does this mean nearly four in ten young Japanese have started deliberately skipping normal meals?

Doesn’t choosing to skip one meal a week just mean missing a single breakfast or dinner during that period?

You’d probably find more extreme numbers if you did the same survey on one of our own university campuses. Sleep in, skip breakfast—when I was at college I did this all the time, sleeping late if I didn’t have morning classes and skipping straight to lunch at around 11:00 a.m. at least a few times a week.

So might this 41% of Japanese between 18 and 24 missing a meal a week not just be getting a good night’s sleep, and not waking up for breakfast?

And a lot of people now are into intermittent fasting, skipping a meal a week or even a whole day’s meals, which is actually considered to have health benefits.

And portions in Japan are pretty small: they’ll stop eating after barely a mouthful. This might be why they have the world’s longest life expectancy.

And then that woman who eats once every two days: isn’t this holding up a rare exception as a general phenomenon? Aren’t there a lot of people with anorexia who eat even less than her? When she doesn’t eat meals, is she snacking instead?

So is a trend of "canceling meals" in Japan really worth reporting on? If I don’t eat dinner tonight, will you call that "canceling meals"?

And the media say Japanese meat and vegetable prices are rising too quickly, as if Japanese workers can hardly afford to eat at all.

I’d have believed it, if I hadn’t visited twice. When I was there a couple of years ago, a fast food meal cost me about 50 yuan [$7.50]. Some people are fine with just grabbing onigiri or bentos from 7-Eleven.

The yen’s fallen over the last couple of years, but on what they earn, they’re not struggling to eat.

And most surprising of all, young Japanese people’s job prospects are great [see reporting from Bloomberg]. On average, a fresh graduate these days will have nearly three offers to choose from.

So are things really all that bad for young Japanese?

Are the media seeking truth from facts with these reports on young Japanese people "canceling meals"?

If you applied the same sort of cherry-picking reporting to China, you’d find a lot of our own young people canceling meals.

That’s why the media can’t pull weird stunts like this just to drum up traffic.

Young Japanese aren’t canceling meals—the traffic-obsessed media have canceled their own standards. [Chinese]

WeChat account Unyielding Bamboo also commented on this tendency earlier in the month, citing coverage of living costs in Japan and protests in France.

[…] Actually, I totally get why some netizens and media feel the need to find a few current hardships abroad to fire people up and turn this foreign news into a kind of spiritual poverty alleviation. But isn’t this going overboard? Two stories a day? Isn’t that just making fools of people, turning them into frogs in a well? And the key thing is, it doesn’t even solve anything. However badly someone else is doing, you can’t pass that off as meaning I’m doing well. Someone else’s kitchen catching fire doesn’t show that our house is well built.

Finally, some personal thoughts: news states facts, and these let people reflect for themselves. But if the presentation of facts is "optimized," then the reflection is deliberately warped. If the greatest value of a piece of news is just "feeling a little better from seeing others suffer," then it’s really no longer about reporting the truth.

It just gives people a cheap sense of superiority. Or you could say it’s a kind of cheap spiritual massage, leaving people numb.

I think really commendable reporting doesn’t see someone else’s roof leaking and rush to pull up a stool and sit at the doorway, laughing.

Rather, it should ask: "Why is it leaking? When did it start? How are they going to fix it? And does our own roof have the same problem?" [Chinese]

From the Forum 2000 Foundation and ICDR:

The International Coalition for Democratic Renewal (ICDR) and Forum 2000 Foundation are deeply concerned by the wrongful detention of Min Zin, a prominent democracy advocate and independent scholar, in China.

On June 3, 2026, Min Zin, a United States citizen, was detained upon arrival at the airport in Yunnan province after traveling there on invitation of a Chinese university for an academic workshop. He has since spent over one hundred days in criminal detention at an undisclosed location investigated on spurious allegations of espionage and endangering China’s national security. Since his wrongful detention, there has been little information regarding Min Zin’s condition, access to legal counsel, or any evidence supporting the allegations against him. On August 20th, the United States government formally designated Min Zin as wrongfully detained.

China’s detention of Min Zin is an affront to international norms and standards and sends a chilling message to those in our community who uphold the principles of intellectual freedom and the open exchange of ideas.

Min Zin has long been a part of the Forum 2000 family and is an active believer in this community’s mission. As a student activist in Burma’s “8888” democracy movement, he spent nine years underground organizing communities before fleeing to the Thailand-Burma border. Journalism became his way of continuing to serve the movement from exile. Through various media publications, Min Zin helped tell the story of a people the Burmese military regime tried to silence – a regime that continues to repress its people’s democratic aspirations even today. He eventually found his way to the University of California – Berkeley where he received his master’s in Asian studies and pursued a PhD in Political Science.

In 2016, and at a moment of hope for the country’s future, Min Zin returned to Burma. Informed by his deep commitment to democracy and freedom, he founded the Institute for Strategy and Policy – Myanmar (ISP), a now highly regarded independent think tank that conducts open-source research and analysis on Burma and empowers the country’s next generation of thought leaders.

Min Zin often spoke about how he walked away from his first Forum 2000 Conference in 2001 with a deep understanding of the critical importance that those on the frontlines in the struggle for democracy not only be able lean on one another for solidarity and support but also learn from one another’s trials and triumphs. He considered it an honor of a lifetime to be part of a cohort of advocates to speak alongside Václav Havel when he received the NED Democracy Service Medal in 2007. Years later, when Min Zin learned of Havel’s passing, he posted a tribute writing “Since I lived in Burma and was on the run to escape from the arrest of the military regime, I sought inspiration and courage from reading a poor Xeroxed copy of The Power of the Powerless. Havel has guided me all the way along.”

It is in this vein that the members of ICDR and participants of the Forum 2000 Conference express their solidarity with Min Zin. We call upon President Xi and the relevant authorities in China to facilitate Min Zin’s immediate and unconditional release and his safe return home. [Source]

As editor of the independent labor-focused media outlet Chiapas Dongfeng TV (恰帕斯东风电视机, Qiàpàsī Dōngfēng Diànshìjī, literally "Chiapas Dongfeng TV Set"), Feng has contributed to and helped to publish an annual review of labor-rights events for five consecutive years. After “Review of Labor Rights Incidents in 2025" was censored online and the Chiapas Dongfeng TV WeChat account suspended, Feng reportedly came under intense pressure, and he and his parents were harassed by local authorities and law enforcement.

This is a case that makes my heart sink. Feng Rui (known as xiaowu) is an activist/writer focused on labour rights and one of my mutuals on social media. We don't always agree on things and sometimes he'd repost my post and challenge my view. He was arrested after

— Chenchen Zhang 🤦🏻‍♀️ (@chenchenzhang.net) 2026-10-14T19:56:29.147Z

his team published a 200-page annual report on labour rights events in China. It's 100k words long and covers 15 topics, including informal work, social security debates, overwork, social reproduction, AI & automation, women, LGBTQ, disability and more.

— Chenchen Zhang 🤦🏻‍♀️ (@chenchenzhang.net) 2026-10-14T19:56:29.148Z

CDT Chinese editors have noted online censorship of content about Feng’s detention, and have archived seven related articles and reports, five of which were deleted from the platforms on which they first appeared.

One of these, an article from WeChat account 牛肥马壮 (Niú féi mǎ zhuàng, "Plump cattle and strong horses"), gives some background on Feng’s life, education, and years of labor-rights advocacy. The author criticizes Feng’s detention and the charges against him; praises Feng and his colleagues at Chiapas Dongfeng TV for their rigorous approach to writing about labor issues and the restraint they often exhibited; and strongly urges the authorities in Guangzhou to release or acquit Feng as soon as possible. Several other posts in the same vein recount Feng’s contributions to promoting workers’ rights in China and call for his immediate release.

Another censored article, “The Charge of ‘Picking Quarrels and Provoking Trouble’ Shouldn’t Be Used Against Those Investigating Labor Injustices,” comes from WeChat account 四下无人的街道 (Sìxià wúrén de jiēdào, “Deserted streets”). The author discusses some of the topics that Feng Rui and his colleagues covered, and makes a strong argument against using a catch-all offense such as “picking quarrels” to suppress research, documentation, or discussion of labor-rights issues:

Over the years, [Feng Rui] has documented many things that we have come to take for granted, though we shouldn’t take for granted: unpaid wages, layoffs, unemployment, labor disputes, workplace injuries, excessive overtime, and the travails of ordinary workers who so rarely appear in mainstream narratives.

Many workers are voiceless. No journalists write about them, nor do they have public social-media accounts or the means to turn their experiences into articles that might reach a wider audience.

A worker is owed several months of back wages. A food-delivery rider works all day in the rain for a pittance. A young worker is suddenly laid off. Someone suffers a workplace injury and doesn’t know to whom they can turn for help. For the people involved, events such as these are real-life crises, but they disappear from public view far too quickly.

Luckily, there are some people willing to document these events, so that at least others will be aware that these things happened.

This is the most basic significance of labor-rights investigations and reports. They don’t "create" labor conflicts; such conflicts already existed before they were documented. By documenting them, the chroniclers are simply bringing individual experiences into public view.

That’s why I’ve always found the idea that people who pay attention to societal conflict are just “stirring up trouble” so repellent.

It’s like thinking that as long as no one speaks up about a problem, it will somehow cease to exist.

Someone who is owed back wages won’t get paid just because no one talks about it. Someone who was unfairly sacked won’t get their job back just because there’s no written record of the matter. Silence doesn’t make injustice go away; it only makes it invisible.

But if a person who has spent years researching and documenting labor rights issues can be held criminally liable for "picking quarrels and provoking trouble" simply because of the nature of their particular work, then it merits a serious discussion about the nature of that particular criminal charge.

[…] The charge of "picking quarrels and provoking trouble" has long been controversial due to its broad application and vague boundaries. A wide range of actions—disturbing the peace, causing a public scene, and even certain online behaviors—may fall within the scope of this criminal charge.

And therein lies the problem: when a criminal charge can encompass so many different types of behavior, its boundaries must be made abundantly clear.

Otherwise, a criminal charge meant to target specific illegal acts can easily morph into a “pocket crime” open to interpretation.

Exactly what is meant by "picking quarrels” and “provoking trouble"? What specific behaviors cross the line and go from misdemeanor to “criminal offense”?

When it comes to this, vague interpretation isn’t good enough. Just because a person says something that makes the authorities uncomfortable or brings some societal conflict to the attention of the public, they cannot be shunted into the catch-all category of "picking quarrels and provoking trouble."

This holds especially true for labor rights issues, and it is why the charge of "picking quarrels and provoking trouble" warrants particular vigilance.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that anyone operating under the banner of "labor rights" is exempt from the constraints of the law. If someone commits an act that is clearly illegal or criminal, they should certainly be dealt with according to the law.

But conducting research surveys must not be criminalized, nor should documenting labor disputes, or interviewing workers.

The act of compiling and analyzing labor incidents that have already occurred should not be construed as "picking quarrels and provoking trouble” simply because some of the incidents make people uncomfortable.

Were that to happen, the resulting loss would not be a single article, but our courage to face up to reality.

This is why I believe this matter cannot simply be interpreted as the “criminal detention of an independent blogger.” If someone who has been documenting labor issues for so many years faces criminal prosecution because of his work, our concerns must extend beyond Feng Rui’s individual case.

What we should be concerned about is whether anyone will even dare to conduct such investigations in the future, and whether anyone will be willing to document the experiences of workers who often have no say.

We may disagree with [Feng’s] judgment, criticize his articles, and even believe that some of his reports are problematic. But these things should be hashed out through discussion, questioning, and public expression, not by arbitrarily resorting to the criminal justice system.

I remember these lines from the introduction to “Review of Labor Rights Incidents in 2025": “We hope that one day we will have fewer incidents to take stock of. People will come together not to document injustice, but simply to dance.”

That’s actually a very restrained and modest hope.

No one wants these annual labor-rights reports to go on forever. No one wants to have to tally up the unpaid wages, the layoffs, the workplace injuries, and the unemployed year after year. More than anyone, those who keep these records hope that someday, some of these problems will abate.

A day when we truly no longer needed these annual “labor rights reviews” would be the best possible outcome.

But until that day comes, someone ought to be keeping a record of such events.

If the mere act of documenting injustice requires us to walk on eggshells and police our every word, then we might find ourselves left with a very clean, very quiet, and very deserted society.

And such quiet is nothing to celebrate. [Chinese]

For more CDT coverage of labor rights and labor activism, see our articles on migrant worker Jing Shuren, recently sentenced to four years in prison for sharing social media posts about workers’ unpaid wages; the lengthy prison sentences given to journalist Huang Xueqin and labor-rights activist Wang Jianbing; the closure of a museum dedicated to migrant workers and their children; reports on wage arrears among staffers of a government hotline for reporting unpaid wages; accusations by the Ministry of State Security that “hostile foreign forces” are trying to trick Chinese workers into “lying flat”; and state-media outlets’ Workers’ Day proclamations that workers’ rights are something “granted” by the Chinese Communist Party.

The post focuses on the use of paid foreign influencers in local tourism promotion, citing a campaign launched by provincial authorities in Hainan, and on the algorithmic weighting that benefits this kind of "positive energy" content. It suggests that visitors’ gushing remarks on camera should be viewed more critically, while calling for attention to context rather than outright dismissal. “What annoys me most," it comments, "is the way a single line of praise from a foreigner is used to paper over our own experience.”

If you scroll Douyin these days, you’ll find a flood of videos from foreign visitors to China.

They marvel at the cheap food, bargain shopping, advanced high-speed trains, and amazing robots.

The people and the cities vary, but the praise does not. It seems like not one of the China trips in my feed ran into any pitfalls.

When we travel ourselves, we know we need to look up guides on pitfalls [e.g. scams, rip-offs, tourist traps etc.] to avoid. So why is it that when foreigners come, these pitfalls are never in the shot?

What I want to know about these tourist videos is who invited them, and who’s footing the bill?

Usually, when people online are on the hunt for "malign foreign influence," even natural disasters are fair game. The 2024 Guizhou wildfires were spun into “arson by Japanese spies”; the 2021 Zhengzhou floods were pinned on “American weather weapons." The former was officially refuted, while meteorologists pointed out that the latter had no scientific basis.

People dared say this kind of thing even without a scrap of evidence. So why is that when a foreigner pops up on our feed spouting fulsome praise of China, it’s not worth asking whether their trip was some promotional partnership?

If you say anything negative [about China], people will question your motives. But if you say only positive things, you somehow get a free pass?

Let’s take a look at some of the spending that’s been made public.

According to a notice from the Hainan Provincial Government Procurement Association, citing the provincial Department for Tourism, Culture, Radio, Television and Sports, up to 894,000 yuan [roughly $133,000] was allocated to a "Chasing the Light in the Free Trade Zone • Discover Hainan" project to bring international influencers on cultural junkets to Hainan in 2026.

The project covers invitations to content creators, food and accommodation, transportation, and publicity and promotion. The appendix for the Russian-speaking region specifies that eight foreign creators will post at least 16 one-minute clips to TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube. There are also arrangements for scripts, camera crew, editing and production.

The notice even spells out how shoots will be organized.

I don’t know if the accounts I’ve scrolled past had this kind of partnership, but once you’ve read about these arrangements, who can blame you for asking, "Did you pay for this trip yourself, or is there a promotional partnership?"

Telling a travel story online doesn’t mean you’ve paid your own way.

There’s a "Party A" [i.e., a paying client] behind positive reviews, too — at least, that’s the case with the promotional junkets described in the notice.

Who sent the invitation, who paid the bills, was there any partnership? As long as it’s clear, that’s fine. The point of these questions is to inform our interpretation of a particular video, not to slap more labels on the vlogger.

In these promotions, the destination wants visitors, the campaign wants numbers, and the vlogger wants exposure, but all the audience sees is a smiling face saying， "China’s awesome!"

But how much of the convenience on this trip would an ordinary tourist get, and how much was special treatment? If I visited the same places shown in the video, would things go as smoothly for me?

As for promoting traffic, don’t just dismiss the issue with, "The platform only pushes more of what you like to watch anyway."

The CAC announced in May 2025 that platforms including Douyin had adjusted their algorithms to focus on, among other things, "weighted recommendation of positive-energy content."

This weighting will change what you see. Why should my recommendations page be considered representative of all foreign tourists?

Content that doesn’t get filmed and content that doesn’t get boosted are two separate things.

What annoys me most is the way a single line of praise from a foreigner is used to paper over our own experience.

He might think food is cheap here, but does that mean I can’t say I think it’s too expensive? He might think a city is modern and developed, but does that mean the hassles I encounter there aren’t worth mentioning?

We’re the ones who work, pay our bills, and spend our lives here. The pitfalls we run into are a lot more concrete than gasps of awe in a video clip.

Rather than telling me to be happy about praise when I can’t see who footed the bill, why not do something to reduce the pitfalls I encounter? [Chinese]

As the university’s statement about the disciplinary actions spread online, it fueled intense debate, particularly after rumors surfaced that the school was tipped off by a student “informer” motivated by the desire to bring down an academic rival and move up the recommendation list for admission to HEU’s mathematics department graduate program.

CDT Chinese editors archived five articles, including two that were later deleted, about the university’s circumvention crackdown against the backdrop of cutthroat academic competition, restrictive postgraduate admission policies, the ubiquity (and necessity) of VPN use in academia, and the dangers of a resurgence of “informer culture” in China. The student-turned-informer reportedly admitted to using unauthorized VPNs herself, and even consulted one of her professors for advice about reporting the rival’s VPN use to school authorities. The professor strongly advised against it, saying it would come off as “a bit too ruthless.”

In one of the archived articles, from WeChat account Nonfiction Tales (非虚构故事, Fēixūgòu Gùshi), the author draws a connection between the Harbin incident and the chilling effects of “informer culture” on online debate:

I feel like there’s a growing trend toward reporting people for the online content they post. The tiniest slip of the tongue, a single poorly chosen word, or a slightly unconventional point of view can cause you to be reported.

[…] The reporting system has been completely weaponized.

It’s not reporting actual illegal activities that the public despises, but rather using the reporting system for personal gain, or as a way of retaliating against others. This destroys the basic bonds of trust between people.

Trust is the cornerstone of our society. No one wants to live in a society where everyone’s constantly walking on eggshells and our sense of morality has collapsed. [Chinese]

On a similar theme, a deleted article from Huang Zhijie’s WeChat account Youyou Luming is critical of both the student and of university policies that undermine trust by incentivizing classmates to inform on one another. As Huang writes, “No one wants to live in a society rife with informers.” When referring to the student who reported classmates for VPN use, Huang uses the gender-neutral pinyin "Ta" instead of the Chinese “she/her” pronoun “她” (tā), possibly due to lack of verifiable information about the student’s gender, or to avoid the misogynistic tone of some of the other online commentary about the incident.

It is worth noting that the informer also admitted, “I regularly use a VPN to read academic papers, use GPT, and stuff like that, and now I’m worried I might be investigated too, and I don’t know what to do.” This is why I label them “an informer” rather than “a tipster.” If they had reported the matter out of some commitment to upholding the rules, I’d have more respect for them, but they clearly don’t respect or uphold the rules.

Seen in that light, this is a case of an unscrupulous university student with ulterior motives betraying their classmates for personal gain, causing 20 students to be punished. By selling out their classmates to get ahead, the student violated a moral boundary governing the way people treat each other in a normal society.

No one is born a snitch, and this kind of despicable behavior often stems from the calculus of personal gain. Informing is definitely on the rise; you could also claim it’s experiencing a “resurgence.” And the problem isn’t confined to one university.

A few years ago, a certain university implemented a “one-on-one” monitoring system in which every student was assigned a “mystery classmate” to keep an eye on their every word and action. Another university even included this question on a final exam: “Name three of your classmates who participate the most in class, and three who skip the most classes.” Whatever the original intention behind these practices was, the result was to encourage students to inform on and expose their classmates. [Chinese]

Another deleted article, “If I Can’t Beat You in Exams, Maybe I Can Win by Informing on You,” comes from the Tencent News-affiliated WeChat public account "News Brother." The author takes aim at academic inequality and university regulations on “ideological and moral character,” arguing that such vaguely defined regulations are capricious and prone to abuse:

What makes a society a society is connections between people.

Trust and affection are essential to creating these connections.

But everyone has to weigh their words before speaking, and exercise caution around everyone they meet, just in case someone, someday, decides to inform on them.

Even more terrifying is the possibility that those who fear being informed on might decide to pre-empt things by informing on others first.

Can we really blame these students-turned-informers? Can we fault them for refusing to put themselves at a disadvantage, for being willing to burn bridges if it means they can secure a recommendation to a postgraduate program?

[…] Rather than aiming misplaced blame at the students, perhaps we should consider why the act of "informing" is seen as an instrument of justice.

Consider, for example, the guidelines on postgraduate recommendations from a certain teacher-training university and a certain comprehensive university. Both repeatedly stress the fact that recommendations depend on students’ "ideological and moral character" as well as their “academic conduct.”

[…] While academic misconduct or fabricated research papers are relatively objective problems, who gets to evaluate an applicant’s disciplinary record to assess their “ideological and moral character”?

And what exactly constitutes “moral depravity”?

[…] Of course, some might argue that an upright individual has nothing to fear. If you haven’t done anything wrong, they reason, an informer can’t hurt you.

But I wouldn’t bet on myself. As an ordinary person, I may be in no position to commit major blunders, but I could make some minor mistake at any time.

Who knows, maybe some keen-eyed reader has already combed through this article and found eighteen different ways to prove my guilt. [Chinese]

For more CDT coverage of VPN regulations and punishments, see our translations of a scaremongering anti-VPN campaign from the military-affiliated National Defense Times; a leaked internal document about new anti-circumvention measures from online service provider Qihang CDN; a piece on Chinese universities installing software to identify and punish students using VPNs; a Weibo user who was banned after reporting nationalist pundit Hu Xijin for illegal VPN use; and a computer programmer in Chengde who was fined and had three years of income confiscated for using a VPN to do work for an overseas client.

Small shops, by Francisco Anzola (CC0 1.0)

Below is a list of key topics and some related deleted articles from CDT’s summary of deleted content for August 2026. Between August 1-31, CDT Chinese added 35 new articles, primarily from WeChat, to the archive. (Note that the dates refer to when an article was published on the CDT website, not when it was deleted from Chinese social-media platforms.) Topics targeted for deletion in August included:

• Wuhan cultural officials’ investigation into comedian Guo Degang for riffing on an old “red tune” raises fears of arts censorship
• Criticism of “banquet culture” and power dynamics after two alleged sexual assaults at banquets in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province
• Huawei’s legal department’s pushback against a “bamboo cicada” toy illustrates the Streisand effect
• Public annoyance with extreme security checks in and around Tiananmen Square amid sweltering summer heat
• The surprising box-office success of “Niu Lai,” a shoddily animated coming-of-age film about a young cow
• Destructive flooding along the Tibet-Nepal border draws attention to China’s intense information controls
• Other topics, briefly noted: a food-safety scandal involving formaldehyde-tainted cabbage; public outcry and labor activism after automotive parts manufacturer Xingyu laid off a hundred newly hired recent graduates; a tribute to the outspokenness of the late Premier Zhu Rongji; new entry and exit restrictions; and an egregious misuse of the “Residential Surveillance at a Designated Location” (RSDL) system to coerce an entrepreneur in Guizhou.

Wuhan cultural officials’ investigation into comedian Guo Degang for riffing on an old “red tune” raises fears of arts censorship

The Wuhan Municipal Culture and Tourism Bureau’s investigation into Guo Degang, arguably China’s most famous cross-talk (xiangsheng) comedian, was seen by many as emblematic of the growing pall over artistic expression in China. The investigation purportedly stemmed from a complaint by an unidentified member of the public who alleged that Guo had “distorted and vulgarized” a revolutionary classic by slightly altering the lyrics to a song that had once appeared in the 1956 film “Railway Guerrilla.”

Follow-up: in early September, Wuhan investigators concluded that Guo’s performance had “caused a negative social impact,” but did not fine him personally, nor did they say whether he would be restricted from performing in the future. The organizers of the performance were fined 486,874 yuan (roughly \$72,600) and had a smaller amount of “illegal gains” confiscated, while the theater was fined 110,000 yuan (\$16,400).

In August, CDT editors archived eight censored articles about the investigation into Guo and the event organizers, and published and translated a compilation of netizen comments criticizing this heavy-handed approach to cultural control. One online commenter wrote that “the Cultural Revolution never ended.”

In one of the deleted pieces, “Might I Meekly Say a Few Words in Guo Degang’s Defense?” author Fan Dang describes the chilling effect that such comedy crackdowns have on all forms of self-expression:

I’m honestly not trying to make excuses for Guo Degang, or to show any disrespect toward our history or the forebears represented in these "red" works. I just … can’t help feeling that if a comedian cracking some harmless little joke onstage can escalate into a formal investigation, doesn’t that mean that the space for all of us ordinary people—the space to talk, chat, or joke around—is just going to keep getting narrower, too?

Nowadays before I post anything to my WeChat Moments, I have to draft it, read and reread it, delete any word that could possibly be misinterpreted, and even agonize over which stickers or emojis I use, just in case they convey some unintended meaning. After all that, and only after running it through a "sensitive-word" checking tool, do I finally dare to hit “send.”

[…] I always think that when it comes to culture, there’s got to be some room for harmless joking around, otherwise the bow is strung too tightly—ready to snap at the slightest touch.

[…] I’m about as ordinary a person as they come, and today it took me nearly two hours to work up the nerve to finally hit "send" and timidly speak a few honest words I’d been sitting on for a long time. [Source]

Criticism of “banquet culture” and power dynamics after two alleged sexual assaults at banquets in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province

Dogged reporting by investigative journalist Li Wei’ao has brought public attention to two cases of alleged sexual assault by Hangzhou officials and real-estate industry executives at drinking banquets. CDT editors observed a fair amount of online censorship of the topic, and archived three deleted articles in August about the assaults and their relationship to “banquet culture” and political power dynamics in Hangzhou.

One of the censored articles, “A ‘Human Sacrifice’ at a Boozy Banquet Exposes the Unspoken Rules of Hangzhou’s Real Estate Industry,” focuses on the cozy relationships between real-estate developers and local cadres in Hangzhou, and the way that female colleagues are often treated as party favors, forced to drink and entertain clients. WeChat account Rethink, in a piece titled "Hangzhou’s ‘Three Sleazeketeers’ Were Spawned From Power," argues that the cadres and real-estate executives perpetrating these sexual assaults aren’t just a few bad apples, outliers in an otherwise normal system—they are the byproducts of a corrupt system of unchecked and unaccountable power.

A third censored article, “As Long as Certain Types of Power Remain Untouchable, the Scourge of ‘Women Being Assaulted at the Banquet Table’ Will Never Stop,” comes from WeChat blogger 竹不倒 Zhúbùdǎo ("Unyielding Bamboo"). The author dissects the power dynamics that give officials perceived license to keep behaving this way, and argues that the issue cannot be adequately addressed by responding to each incident on a case-by-case basis:

Things like official banquets are actually a theater of power in microcosm. How can it be a simple matter of dining, when even the sequence of toasts reflects an intricate power hierarchy? And some of the people there are just supporting players, or even props.

I think the differences in what stands above power can be categorized into three tiers:

The lowest tier is expansive power. Examples omitted.

The second tier is contractive power. Singapore’s "high public salaries to foster integrity" are one example: they give officials high pay, but with zero-tolerance accountability. A corrupt minister isn’t just risking his pension: absolute disgrace is at stake.

[…] The top tier is flattened power. I think this is the best kind, but even some of the most established developed countries can’t pull it off. Only a few small countries in northern Europe have hints of it, with "power" stripped of its halo. For example, prime ministers have no chauffeured vehicle or security detail, but regularly commute to work by bike. Power doesn’t contract or expand—it’s been "disenchanted."

But this is the most difficult, because it doesn’t just rely on institutions: these must be matched with moral self-discipline. As we all know, that kind of moral character is an aberration.

[…] When power expands into monstrous forms at the banquet table, refusal is interpreted as "provocation," and oversight must always wait for the official notice, then the problem isn’t someone’s inability to control his lower half, it’s our fundamental lack of an iron cage strong enough to keep power contained. [Source]

Huawei’s legal department’s pushback against a “bamboo cicada” toy illustrates the Streisand effect

One of the summer’s biggest memes grew out of an epic battle between Huawei’s formidable legal department and a popular toy known as the “bamboo cicada.” After the toy showed up in video memes comparing the sound it makes (“wa-wa”) to the audience reaction at a 2023 Huawei product launch—in a way that some at Huawei felt was mocking its corporate image—the telecom titan mobilized its legal department to get many of the videos taken offline. But this heavy-handed approach backfired, resulting in even more online mockery and negative publicity for Huawei. As Eye on Digital China’s Trend Watch notes, “That cicada toy meme would never have become as big if Huawei’s legal department hadn’t intervened. The company submitted complaints to social-media platforms, and videos were removed. But this triggered a chain reaction – when people found the sound was being censored, it blew up in popularity.”

CDT editors archived two censored articles about the bamboo cicada debacle. A now-deleted humorous article from Xu Peng’s WeChat account History Rhymes includes screenshots of what appears to be a coordinated PR effort to link the backlash against Huawei to “foreign forces” and, even more absurdly, “color revolutions.” “Oh, give me a freaking break,” writes Xu. “What could that little bamboo cicada have possibly done to get lumped in with ‘foreign forces?’ Are they suggesting it has some special significance, to dupe people into thinking that playing with a little bamboo toy is somehow analogous to ‘colluding with foreign forces?’”

In a now-deleted satirical piece, “Even Imperial and Ancestral Names Aren’t Taboo Anymore, So What Makes You Rank ‘Bamboo Cicada’ Above Them?” blogger and social commentator Xiang Dongliang playfully compares Huawei’s attempts to banish bamboo cicada memes and videos from social-media platforms to China’s archaic “naming taboos” (避讳, bìhuì), which forbade the use of imperial or ancestral names in other contexts, as a sign of respect for “exalted personages.” “It seems that the management of certain companies is either completely delusional, thanks to years of bootlicking by sycophantic underlings,” writes Xiang, “or their ambition has swelled to the point that they believe their ‘extraordinary contributions’ have earned them a place in the history books. At any rate, it’s gone to their heads, because believe it or not, they’ve launched a campaign to enforce a ‘naming taboo’ across the entire internet.”

Public annoyance with extreme security checks in and around Tiananmen Square amid sweltering summer heat

Throughout the summer travel season, there was frequent online discussion about long lines and interminable waits at tourist sites and subway stations due to extreme security measures, with some observers describing it as “safety theater.”

A post from WeChat account 百里曾游 (Bǎilǐ Céngyóu, "100 Li Once Traveled") describes the gauntlet of security checks, ID-card scans, pat-downs, bag checks, book checks, hem-lifts, and shoe-squeezes involved in visiting Zhengyangmen, also known as Qianmen, the towering gate at the southern edge of Beijing’s Tiananmen Square. Despite the article’s matter-of-fact tone and lack of overt criticism of security measures, the piece was nonetheless deleted from WeChat. An excerpt from CDT’s full translation of the article:

I didn’t realize how stringent the security checks were until I actually experienced it myself. It’s even stricter than at the airport.

There are two stages to the personal security check. In the first, they pass a handheld sensor wand over your whole body and pat down your pockets, so I had to take off my sun jacket and also remove my keys, cellphone, etc. from my pockets.

I even had to take my phone out of its case so the inspector could take a look.

When you get to the second stage, an inspector of the same gender as you pats down your whole body wearing disposable gloves, and lifts the hem of your top to check for concealed items around your waist.

They poked and prodded at my shoes for a while, but fortunately they didn’t make me take them off.

Once the personal check was over, it was time for the bag inspection, and you had to take out all the contents. They looked through every page in my book, but didn’t say anything in the end.

The person inspecting the group next to me told them they couldn’t take photos with a book and certain other item—I don’t know what kind of book it was.

One reason things moved slowly was that the police were involved through the whole process: if one of the staff wasn’t sure about something, they’d call the police over, which led to more waiting. [Source]

The surprising box-office success of “Niu Lai,” a shoddily animated coming-of-age film about a young cow

A schlocky, ultra-low-budget Chinese animated film with the title “The Cow Comes” or “Here Comes the Cow” (牛来, Niú Lái) became the surprise hit of the summer, with its clumsy homemade animation, goofy plot, and earnest attitude inspiring many memes and creating a carnival-like atmosphere among bemused audiences—many of whom were willing to buy tickets just to see if the film was really as terrible as it was rumored to be. The movie’s success inspired a flood of online commentary, some of which characterized it as a “revenge vote by Chinese filmgoers” in response to the bloated, big-budget blockbusters so often promoted by government propagandists and state-media outlets.

CDT editors collected nine articles exploring various aspects of the “Niu Lai” phenomenon, including one censored piece: blogger Xiang Dongliang’s “Better to Have Niu Lai’s Weeds than [Politically] Sensitive Seedlings,” in which the author argues the subpar flick’s success is a form of pushback to a film censorship system that favors politically tepid mediocrities over more ambitious (but politically dicey) cinematic fare. Via a humorous reworking of Wen Yiduo’s famed 1925 poem “Dead Water,” Xiang suggests that the film’s titular cow deserves a chance to shine: "In this ditch of stagnant water / No Hope nor Beauty can be found / So why not let the Cow Come at it / And see what kind of World comes out." A portion of the article is translated below:

During the Cultural Revolution, there was a widely circulated slogan attributed to Gang of Four member Zhang Chunqiao: "We’d rather have socialist weeds than capitalist seedlings."

The meaning is quite clear: it’s not the practical value of something that matters, but the question of whether it’s capitalist or socialist. If something is labeled as “capitalist,” then no matter how good it is, we don’t want it; if it is labeled as “socialist,” then no matter how bad it is, we accept it.

But even today, long after the Gang of Four was toppled and the Cultural Revolution was recast as an historical setback, concepts like “better to have socialist weeds than capitalist seedlings" remain stubbornly persistent in many realms of social governance.

As long as a film’s subject matter is “safe” and has no “sensitive points” that a five-person review panel might object to, it can sail into theaters regardless of its production quality. On the other hand, if a film has sensitive points in conflict with the official "guiding spirit," then it will never be approved for release, no matter how much effort the director and actors put into it, how compelling the story, or how outstanding the production. [Chinese]

Destructive flooding along the Tibet-Nepal border draws attention to China’s intense information controls

On August 26, a Himalayan glacial collapse caused catastrophic flooding and mudslides on the China-Nepal border and completely destroyed a border crossing in Gyirong County, Shigatse, Tibet. Nepalese authorities confirmed 1,050 dead and 4,000 missing, while Chinese authorities reported a few dozen deaths and over 500 missing persons. The disaster was selectively but aggressively censored on the Chinese internet, with many images and videos of the flooding deleted across numerous social-media platforms. This censorship and the slow trickle of information from the Chinese side formed a marked contrast to the detailed and timely release of information and abundance of independent reporting from the Nepalese side. In addition, at least ten Chinese citizens were punished for allegedly “spreading rumors” online about the flooding and death tolls. As one Chinese social-media user commented, “Controlling speech is one area where ‘China speed’ is actually a real thing.”

CDT editors archived many Chinese articles about the flooding, the dead and missing, and the information asymmetry between China and Nepal. “Gyirong Border Crossing Swamped by Unprecedented Mudflow,” a now-deleted article from WeChat account 码头青年 (Mǎtou Qīngnián, Port Youth), simply describes some of the online videos of flooding and muddy debris flows, and mourns the resulting loss of life. The author does mention Gyirong’s history of flooding, but is not overtly critical of Chinese authorities in Tibet. Another censored piece, “Nepal Is a Nation Worthy of Respect,” from WeChat account 城市的地得 (Chéngshì de de de), is a very brief article praising Nepal’s information transparency and disaster response capabilities.

Say you bought a drone, never flew it illegally, and even obediently left it to gather dust in a cupboard [because of the existing flight ban], and were now required to remove it from the city—would you be understanding about this, or would you struggle to accept it?

On September 11, 2026, the Standing Committee of the Beijing Municipal People’s Congress passed the newly revised “Beijing Administrative Provisions on Unmanned Aircraft.” This single decree draws an unprecedented line in terms of low-altitude security in the capital: starting from November 15, 2026, drones “may not be flown, stored, brought in, or sold” within the Beijing administrative area. The essence of the new rules can be summed up as a “citywide ban on possession.”

According to the text of the regulation, the entire Beijing administrative area is designated as controlled airspace for unmanned aircraft.

Except in cases with “special authorization” (e.g. anti-terrorism and stability maintenance, emergency response and disaster relief, major events, or with authorization following security assessments for special requirements in scientific research, training, production etc.), ordinary organizations and individuals:

• are forbidden from carrying out flight activities;
• are forbidden from possessing or storing drones or their core components;
• are forbidden from transporting or carrying drones or their core components into Beijing;
• are forbidden from selling or renting drones to organizations or individuals in the city.

Even flight control and propulsion systems are listed among the 17 designated “core components,” which rules out the possibility of simply dismantling them and hiding the parts.

Why is it prohibited even to store drones at home? As the capital, Beijing faces different low-altitude security risks than an ordinary city. Management in the past has tended to focus on the “flight phase,” but in practice, illicit “black flights” and illegal “devil mods” by a small minority of users, plus the risk of drone-based terrorist attacks, have convinced regulators that it is no longer enough to control the sky alone.

The logic behind this new rule is to move the security perimeter from the sky right down to the level of equipment possession. Removing drones on the ground and banning their storage across the entire city more thoroughly eliminates the security hazard.

To ensure a smooth transition, Beijing has implemented a grace period and disposal channels: until November 15, pilots can remove their drones from Beijing themselves, choose to participate in a subsidized official buyback, or apply to ship them out of the city free of charge.

A balance must always be found between security and development. Beijing has opted for the strictest controls in exchange for absolute security in the capital.

You can take the drones out of their cupboards, but the momentum of the low-altitude era isn’t going anywhere. Drone pilots who say goodbye now may one day soar into broader skies.

What will you do with your drone? [Chinese]

Drone restrictions also came up in another recent archived post about drone use by a recreational fisherman who identified and reported illegal dumping in the Yangtze River. The fisherman, a Douyin blogger known as Fishing-and-Hunting Brother Qi, frequently monitors and reports environmental issues. The author of the piece concludes:

The thing I can’t make sense of is that Hubei has all kinds of rules against shipping pollution, a “river chief” system, an inspection system … why did none of these notice the boats dumping sludge when some dude with a fishing rod and a drone was able to film the whole thing as evidence? Carry on like this and the relevant organizations will have to take a page from the Russia-Ukraine playbook and install protective covers on their boats.

Speaking of drones, last year Wuhan started to implement its Interim Measures for Management of Angling in Key Waters of the Yangtze River Basin, which banned the use of drone-assisted fishing. They won’t end up confiscating Brother Qi’s drone, right? [Chinese]

This has become the typical official response to such “indiscriminate” mass attacks: a brief police bulletin noting that the suspect was arrested and that the case “remains under investigation,” but little to no witness testimony, follow-up reporting, information on the victims, or details on the motive behind the attack. Each new incident seems to be followed by at least some online censorship, and Chinese news outlets frequently decline to conduct any investigative reporting, preferring the safer course of “waiting for further statements from the police.” This issue of excessive reliance on official notices has drawn critical commentary in a variety of other contexts.

CDT Chinese editors have archived two pieces related to the Guangzhou stabbings. The first, a now-deleted article from WeChat account Li Yucheng, takes issue with online commenters describing the attack as “indiscriminate,” given that the attacker clearly targeted only women—and more specifically, women’s faces. A brief excerpt of the piece is translated below:

What his motive was, I don’t know. He didn’t say, and nobody knows. But motive and outcome are two different things, and the outcome is there for all to see: in a crowded commercial district on Monday evening, he picked only women to attack, and then he chose to attack their faces.

The term "indiscriminate" is all over the internet tonight. But targeting a specific gender and a specific part of the body makes it far from indiscriminate. This is a conclusion that can only be reached after the investigation is complete, but it’s already all over the internet tonight, outpacing the investigators themselves. [Chinese]

The second archived piece, an essay by WeChat blogger 昔平 (Xī Píng), is titled “Eventually, We All Learned to Keep Quiet.” Although the author does not mention the Guangzhou stabbings specifically in the text, the essay is bookended by screenshots of the statement issued by Guangzhou police. In light of this, the author discusses how censorship and self-censorship interact to erode societal discourse over time. The essay, along with the screenshots, is translated in full below:

A screenshot shows that a multiple stabbing in Guangzhou was one of the top five trending topics on Weibo on September 14. The text reads:
#PoliceBulletin#
“At approximately 5:20 p.m. on September 14, 2026, Guangzhou’s 110 emergency hotline received a report from a member of the public that a man was attacking people with a knife outside a hotpot restaurant in the Xiaoguwei neighborhood of Panyu District. Police officers quickly arrived at the scene, sent the injured individuals to the hospital for treatment, and apprehended the suspect, surnamed Li (male, 35). The victims received medical treatment and none of their injuries are life-threatening.
The case remains under investigation.
Guangzhou Public Security Bureau Panyu Substation
September 14, 2026”

Eventually, we all learned a useful skill: how to keep quiet.

This isn’t a skill taught in school textbooks, but it’s more practical than much of what is. As children, we were taught to "speak freely, and hold nothing back," but as adults, we discovered an even more profound wisdom: "Too much talk only leads to trouble."

So when we encountered something odd, we didn’t ask questions; when we observed something unreasonable, we didn’t discuss it; when we heard others speak, it was safer to pretend we didn’t hear them. Over time, this culminated in a remarkably “stable” way of life: our eyes were in charge of seeing, our ears in charge of hearing, and our mouths in charge of staying silent.

This wasn’t because people suddenly stopped having thoughts. Quite the opposite. It was because they had too many thoughts.

Thoughts are like treasured possessions, in that they’re best kept hidden away at home. It’s fine to take them out and examine them once in a while, but you certainly shouldn’t put them out in the middle of the street for all to see.

And so society grew quiet. Eerily quiet.

Events in the news remained perennially “under investigation," punctuated by a satisfying full stop, and followed by a complete blank. People learned to appreciate this unique literary form: the article’s introduction told you what happened, the middle warned you not to over-interpret events, and the conclusion assured you that the whole thing was being properly investigated.

As for what the investigation uncovered, that was a topic for the next article.

Assuming there was a next article.

People even grew wary about having discussions.

Before, when arguing about something, at least there was the thrill of being able to say to someone, "You’re wrong." But later, people scarcely dared to say those words, because nobody really knew what "wrong" meant anymore.

The safest mode of expression was no expression at all.

Social media posts grew “tidier” and comment sections more civil, and public debate came to resemble a freshly cleaned house: spotless floors, no trace of footprints, and scarcely a whiff of human habitation.

A fine thing, certainly.

How harmonious was a society without quarrels, how cohesive a space without differing opinions, how reassuring to live in an era where everyone says the right thing!

There was only one problem.

If everyone only says the right thing, then who will ever tell us what is “wrong”?

Probably best not to ask that question.

Asking too many questions makes you stick out from the crowd.

And so people began to self-censor in increasingly sophisticated ways. Before speaking a sentence, they would delete all the adjectives. Before writing a passage, they would delete all the opinions. Before venturing to express a viewpoint, they would delete themselves.

What remained was scrupulously cautious and hermetically sealed.

And naturally devoid of anything at all.

Surely, this must be a highly advanced civilization: everyone is safe because no one ever comes in contact with anything real.

But what’s truly terrifying isn’t a society in which people are angry.

It’s one in which everyone is too afraid to express their anger, so they bring it home with them, instead.

Not all silence is peaceful.

Sometimes silence is just emotion that lacks an outlet.

If someone suffers an injustice and vents about it, at least they’re still communicating with others. But if they don’t know who they can turn to, to whom they can vent, then all they can do is lock those feelings inside themselves.

Over time, such people are apt to grow silent and numb.

The odd thing about numbness is that it may appear more docile than anger, but it’s actually more dangerous.

If someone is angry, at least it shows they still care.

But numbness means they’ve given up believing in anything.

That’s why I’ve come to believe that instead of getting everyone to shut up, what society really needs to do is to allow ordinary people to speak, and different opinions to co-exist. When someone is unhappy with something they think is unreasonable or unfair, they ought to be allowed to ask, “Why?”

That one little question isn’t so scary.

What’s scary is if society reaches the point where no one dares to ask why.

By that point, people will still have stories to tell, but the only thing they’ll dare to talk about is the weather.

It won’t be that there’s no anger, but that anger has learned to stay silent.

It won’t be that no one saw anything, but that people have gotten used to pretending not to see.

Some say, “Silence is golden.” In some contexts, there’s real economic value in that bit of wisdom. But that kind of gold is buried so deep that even the person who buried it can’t find it anymore.

So if one day you discover the streets becoming quieter, your friends’ social media posts becoming tidier, and everyone reacting to a single event in the same way, with the same facial expression, please don’t rush to celebrate the fact that society is becoming more “civilized.”

It might just be that everyone has finally mastered the art of seeing it all, understanding it all, but saying nothing.

A truly vibrant society is never silent.

When different voices are allowed to exist, we need not be afraid of any one particular voice.

As for when we’ll relearn how to speak … I’ll just leave that question for all of you to ponder.

After all, we’re still allowed to think.

For now. [Chinese]

A screenshot of the official police bulletin shows the exact same text as the first screenshot:
“Police Bulletin
At approximately 5:20 p.m. on September 14, 2026, Guangzhou’s 110 emergency hotline received a report from a member of the public that a man was attacking people with a knife outside a hotpot restaurant in the Xiaoguwei neighborhood of Panyu District. Police officers quickly arrived at the scene, sent the injured individuals to the hospital for treatment, and apprehended the suspect, surnamed Li (male, 35). The victims received medical treatment and none of their injuries are life-threatening.
The case remains under investigation.
Guangzhou Public Security Bureau Panyu Substation
September 14, 2026”

Many of Huang’s friends and supporters, fellow journalists, and rights-defense advocates are concerned that even after her release, she may be kept under surveillance and have restrictions imposed on her freedom of speech and movement in a state of "non-release release." In the past, many released journalists and activists (including citizen journalist Zhang Zhan) have been subject to similar restrictions.

The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) released a statement criticizing Huang’s “unjust imprisonment” for simply doing investigative reporting, and expressing its hope that she will not be subject to arbitrary restrictions or retaliation after her release:

“Sophia Huang Xueqin should never have spent a day in jail,” said CPJ Asia-Pacific Director Beh Lih Yi. “Her unjust imprisonment exposes the insecurity of China — a government that is afraid of independent journalism and women who dare to speak truth to power. The Chinese authorities must guarantee her full freedom, without any further delay or arbitrary restrictions.”

In a joint statement on Tuesday, CPJ was among 60 press freedom and human rights organizations that urged the Chinese government to ensure Huang is released immediately on Friday and guarantee that she could return to reporting without being subjected to surveillance, retaliation, or other forms of restrictions.

Police detained Huang and a friend, labor activist Wang Jianbing, on September 19, 2021, while they were on their way to an airport in southern China. Huang was due to fly to Britain to study at the University of Sussex.

Wang was jailed [for] three and a half years on the same charge and was freed [in 2025] after completing the sentence. [Source]

CPJ and Frontline Defenders were among the 60 press freedom and human rights organizations that issued a joint statement urging the Chinese government to “ensure Sophia Huang Xueqin’s release and guarantee her freedom from arbitrary restrictions”:

While Sophia Huang Xueqin is expected to be released on 18 September, we are concerned that she will face restrictions after leaving prison. She was subject to a ‘supplemental sentence’ of four years’ deprivation of political rights, a punishment that is routinely imposed on human rights defenders and journalists to restrict their ability to speak, publish, and organise long after their prison terms end. The legal provisions permitting this punishment are incompatible with international human rights standards, not to mention the fact that no one should be punished simply for exercising their human rights.

We call on the Chinese authorities to:

• Ensure Sophia Huang Xueqin is released immediately and is not subjected to any further arbitrary detention and allowed to move freely;
• Guarantee her rights to freedom of expression, press, association and peaceful assembly, alongside her right to participate in public life, including her ability to communicate freely with family, friends, supporters, and civil society groups;
• Ensure she is not subjected to surveillance, harassment, intimidation, retaliation or restrictions on her movement and communications; and
• Amend domestic laws, notably the Criminal Law, to ensure their compliance with international law and standards, and prevent the misuse of legal provisions to restrict the rights of human rights defenders and others. [Source]

The last five years have seen a marked crackdown on online Chinese feminist discourse and offline events and gatherings, with frequent account closures, article deletions, mass social-media bans, and curtailment of even the most cautious events and in-person gatherings. (For a longer-term perspective, see CDT’s interview with Leta Hong Fincher on advances and setbacks in women’s rights in China over the past decade.)

At the Guardian, Danny Vincent and Yu-chen Li reported on how Huang will be returning to a drastically altered landscape, one “changed by censorship, and a new generation of feminists”:

“A lot of younger, digital-native feminists today don’t know much about those earlier feminist struggles not too long ago, thanks to the state’s intentional annihilation of them,” says Eva Liu, a researcher on Chinese feminism and digital media at Ohio University.

Today, Chinese feminists employ creative ways to avoid censorship. They use new expressions to avoid posts being blocked. “It’s really a cat-and-mouse game,” says Liu.

[…] Jasmine in Beijing says: “If you want to organise a public event, anything explicitly related to feminism or LGBT issues is basically not possible, at least in Beijing. If you advertise it that way, there’s a risk the event will be shut down.

“So usually we frame the event in a more neutral way, without directly presenting it as being about gender or social issues. But once the event is taking place, we may still discuss those topics.” [Source]