By Bo Gu on Behind The Wall

  • Gruesome photos put spotlight on China's one-child policy

    Family photo

    Photos of Feng Jianmei on her hospital bed after a forced abortion have been circulating on the web. The photos were taken by her sister who in turn contacted the media about the story. The photos originally appeared in a local newspaper report online and then they were picked by netizens and distributed online.

    Updated at 10:33 p.m. ET: China state media says city officials have apologized to Feng Jiamei and suspended three officials, the BBC reported.

    Xinhua news said the Ankang city government will urge the county government to review its family planning operations, according to the BBC report.

    BEIJING – Feng Jianmei  says she was manhandled by seven people, some of them local family planning officials, some of whom she didn’t know. 

    Feng, 22 years old and seven months pregnant, was dragged out of her relative’s home, carried and shoved into a van that headed straight to a hospital on June 2, she told NBC News in phone interview.

    She was blindfolded, thrown on a bed, and forced to sign a document that she couldn’t read with the blindfold still on her eyes. Then two shots were injected into her belly. Thirty hours later, on the morning June 4, she gave birth to a dead baby girl.

    Feng is one of the many Chinese women who have been forced to have abortions under China’s strict one-child-only policy started in late 1970s to contain the country’s fast growing population, which has now topped 1.3 billion people.


    One-child policy
    China’s long time Communist leader Chairman Mao Zedong originally encouraged women to have as many children as possible during the Cold War-era when human power was believed to be an important force if war broke out. But the country’s rulers soon found it too difficult to feed the huge population – so they adopted a harsh policy that allows urban citizens to have only one child, and rural couples to have two, if the first child is a girl.  

    The policy has been carried out for more than three decades despite public opposition, from human rights activists to ordinary people. Thousands of years of Chinese culture fostered the belief that “more children is more blessing,” especially in remote and rural areas where the elderly lack adequate social benefits and depend on children as they grow old.

    Government family planning officials are also under pressure to make sure their constituencies follow the quota of babies allowed. When there’s no clear law telling them what they can and cannot do, forced abortions, often on late-terms pregnancies, have become the norm, particularly for the poor who are unable to pay the hefty fines to have additional children.   

    Advocates on behalf of these women are usually ignored or face government repression. For example, Chen Guangcheng, the famous blind lawyer and human rights activist, represented victims of family planning abuse in Shandong Province. Chen was jailed for four years for his advocacy and put under house arrest until he recently escaped illegal detainment and fled to the U.S. last month.

    More on Chen Guangcheng

    There are no official figures of how many women in China unwillingly terminate pregnancies every year. “All Girls Allowed,” an organized founded by former 1989 student protest leader Chai Ling, claims there are 1.3 million forced abortions annually

    ‘How can I agree to do that, as a mother?’
    Feng Jianmei didn’t realize she wasn’t allowed to have a second child (her first daughter was born in 2007) since everyone else around her was permitted to have a second child. Both she and her husband Deng Jiyuan took for granted that they would have the same right.  But the family planning office in Zengjiazhen, a small town in Shaanxi province in the heart of China, thought differently.  

    Through a rigorous and rigid household registration system designed to control population movement, the central government classifies all its citizens as either city dwellers or rural peasants.  The registration, also known in Chinese as hukou, determines not only a citizen’s residence but also what kind of social services individuals are eligible for.

    It is very difficult to change one’s hukou although there are many ways, including marrying a person with a different registration status, applying for a new status through one’s job, or paying an enormous sum of money. 

    The local family planning office decided that Feng wasn’t allowed to have a second child because she didn’t have the necessary permit – apparently she had failed to relocate her hukou to Zengjiazhen when she moved from her original province of Inner Mongolia.

    But the couple says they had no idea their plan to have a second child was connected with Feng’s hukou.

    They were given another option that would solve the problem: pay a fine of $6,400. But that was an impossible amount for the couple to afford – Deng is a migrant worker and Feng is a farmer. 

    “I told you, $6,400, not even a penny less. I told your dad that and he said he has no money,” the family planning official wrote to Deng in a text message that has been made public. “You were too careless, you didn’t think this was a big deal.”

    Feng’s sister received the same warning;  if they couldn’t afford to help pay the fine, it was only a matter of time before her sister had to get rid of the baby, whether she wanted to or not.

    Things came to a head on June 2, but according to the local government, Feng agreed to the abortion.

    The Zhenping Population and Family Planning Bureau released on June 11 an official stamped document, which says  that “after government cadre’s repeated persuasion, Feng Jianmei agreed to have an abortion at 15:40 on June 2.” 

    “No, I didn’t agree to do it,” Feng told NBC News. “How can I agree to do that, as a mother?”

    She sobbed when asked what happened next, and said she was too upset to think about it. She said all those officials who kidnapped her disappeared after the abortion, and she’s still suffering from a constant headache.

    Two appalling photos of her were taken and posted online that show her lying in bed, looking weak and helpless, with a dead and bloody baby next to her. The photos were taken by her sister who in turn contacted the media about the story. The photos originally appeared in a local newspaper report online and then they were picked by netizens and distributed online.

    ‘If this evil policy is not stopped, this country will have no humanity’
    Forced abortions in China are not new, but Feng’s story spread rapidly via social media, and outrage was immediate and unanimous. On Weibo, China’s Twitter-like microblogging site, netizens left thousands of angry comments, although many of the posts were quickly deleted by government censors.   

    “The purpose of family planning was to control population, but now it has become murder population,” wrote Li Chengpeng, a well-known Chinese writer. “It was a method to contain population, but now it is a way to make money. When you can make money by killing, what else are you afraid to do? A seven-month baby can think already. I want to ask the murderer, how do you face your own mother when you go home? If this evil policy is not stopped, this country will have no humanity.”

    Zhao Chu, another writer, called it pure murder. “This is not about enforcing the policy, it is about depriving someone’s right to live. We avoid the nature of it by using a medical word ‘enforced abortion.’ For so long family planning seems like something completely irrelevant of human life. It’s like coal mining or digging mushrooms. Human life has become lifeless indexes, some cold, meaningless numbers.

    “Also, pushed by heavy fines, the controversial policy has become profit-oriented activities that everyone hates. The worst victims are those of low-class rural people who have no power to fight. Their tears and cries are not heard by so called mainstream society and the victims become worse than the untouchables,” said Zhao.

    Many called for the one-child policy to be outlawed. “We feel so sorry for the dead baby girl, we criticize those so-called law enforcers. But we should rethink the 30-year-long family planning policy. It’d be worth it if this could help to change the policy! We keep our eyes open!” commented user A-Kun on his Weibo page.

    Even Hu Xijin, chief editor of Global Times, one of China’s most pro-government newspapers, criticized the forced abortion on his Weibo account.

    “I strongly oppose the barbarous forced abortion to this 7-month-pregnant mother. Time has changed and the intensity of enforcing family planning has changed. We should promote civilized family planning,” Hu wrote.

    But he added that he didn’t think the whole policy should be abolished. “Don’t use Hong Kong and Japan as an argument to deny China’s population policy. Those places are small and developed early, fed by the whole world’s resources. But the world resources cannot afford to feed a China with billions of people.”

    ‘This has damaged the image of family planning work’
    NBC News tried to contact both town and city level family planning offices in Zengjiazhen and Ankang, but the calls went unanswered.  

    A report from Xinhua, China’s official government news agency, released on Thursday said that the Shaanxi Provincial Family Planning Committee has sent an investigation team to Zengjiazhen and requested local government to have the responsible parties held accountable.

    “This has damaged the image of family planning work, and had an adverse effect on the society. The committee will resolutely prevent such things from happening again,” the Xinhua news report said.

    Feng’s conversation with NBC News was interrupted three times by what she said were government cadres entering her hospital ward to talk.

    When asked what she would do next or whether they will seek legal help, she uttered an answer in a very low voice: “I have no idea.” 

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  • With before-death notes, China activists attempt to preempt being 'suicided'

    Tyrone Siu / Reuters

    Thousands of protesters hold banners as they march along a street, to protest and urge the Chinese authorities to carry out a proper investigation into the death of dissident Li Wangyang, in Hong Kong on June 10.

    BEIJING – “I will not commit suicide” has become a new mantra among China’s human rights activists. 

    They are responding half-mockingly and half-seriously to fears that they could be “suicided” by the Chinese government for their activism.

    The movement comes in response to the suspicious death of Li Wangyang, a Chinese dissident jailed after the 1989 crackdown on pro-democracy protesters. Li, 61, was found dead in a hospital ward on June 6 under what his family says were suspicious circumstances, just two days after the 23rd anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown. He had served over 20 years in Chinese prison for his activism.  


    Hu Jia, a high-profile HIV/AIDS activist who served three and a half years in prison for the same crime Li was jailed for, “subversion of state power,” recently tweeted about the need to counter any foul play by the government.

    Tiananmen activist found dead under suspicious circumstances

    “It looks like I should leave a notarized document with my lawyer, saying: ‘Citizen Hu Jia will never commit suicide at any time, because of anyone, in any situation, or for anything,’” Hu tweeted. “If you are a dissident, activist or political prisoner constantly detained by secret police, I suggest you make a declaration or notarize such a document. This country does not lack people who were “suicided.’”

    Wu Gan, another outspoken dissident known by the nickname “super vulgar butcher” on China’s blogosphere, also tried to pre-empt any future suicide claims by the government for his activism. “Here’s my announcement,” he wrote on Weibo, China’s most popular Twitter-like service. “I’m healthy (apart from fatty liver disease), optimistic, and have a lot of hope in the future. I wait for the day when the sky clears up and they are brought to justice. I will absolutely never commit suicide.” 

    The movement didn’t take long to reach Twitter, where a "#Iwillnotcommitsuicide” hash tag was created on June 8, just two days after Li’s mysterious death, and has been widely re-tweeted over the last three days.  

    Philippe Lopez / AFP - Getty Images

    People take part in a protest for the cause of late Chinese dissident Li Wangyang in Hong Kong on June 10.

    Another activist, Liu Ping, from the southern province of Jiangxi, wrote on her Weibo account:  “I solemnly declare, if I’m caught (by police) I will never commit suicide!” 

    Wang Lihong, a former Beijing businesswoman, jailed for eight months for her activism, expanded on the theme on her Twitter account. “I, Wang Lihong, once tried to kill myself in prison. It wasn’t because I was weak. I was only defending my dignity. But I will never do that again, no matter how you lure, ask, or even force – I will not commit suicide, unless you do it.” 

    Li’s body was found in the Daxiang District Hospital in Shaoyang, Hunan Province, where he was receiving treatment for long-term ailments related to the more than 20 years he spent in prison. He had been released on May 5, 2011. 

    But he may have grown too confident in his new-found freedom. On June 4, the 23rd anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown,  i-CABLE, a Hong Kong based news channel, broadcast an interview with Li in which he was extremely outspoken in his description of his torture during his time in prison.  

    Two days after the interview, he was found dead in his hospital room.

    According to the local government in Shaoyang, Li’s body was cremated on the morning of June 9 with his relatives’ consent. They also said an autopsy was conducted by four legal and forensic experts the day before, which was witnessed and filmed by local congressional representatives and journalists.  

    NBC News could not verify the reports with Li’s sister or her husband because their cell phones remained off on Monday.  

  • Tiananmen activist found dead under suspicious circumstances

    Courtesy Of Li Wangling / Courtesy of Li Wangling

    A recent photo of Li Wangyang, a former labor activist and Chinese dissident, with his sister Li Wangling. He who was found dead under suspicious circumstances on June 6, two days after the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown and an outspoken interview he did with a Hong King based TV-network aired.

    BEIJING – Li Wangyang, a former labor activist and Chinese dissident jailed after the 1989 crackdown on pro-democracy protesters in Beijing, was found dead in a hospital ward under what his family says were suspicious circumstances, just two days after the 23rd anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown. 

    His sister, Li Wangling, and brother-in-law, Zhao Baozhu, found his body when they paid a routine visit to the Daxiang District Hospital in Shaoyang, a city roughly 1,000 miles south of Beijing, on the morning of June 6.

    They found him dead in his hospital room, hanging by a security bar in a window with hospital bandages around his neck. (Disturbing photos of Li circulating on Weibo, China’s version of Twitter, show Li’s feet on the ground, something that puts in doubt the idea that he hung himself).  

    Security and hospital authorities said that he had committed suicide.  

    But his family is not buying that. 

    "I'd never believe Li killed himself,” his brother-in-law Zhao said during a rushed phone interview with NBC News on Thursday. 



    When asked what he thought was the true cause of Li’s death, Zhao said, "I don't know.  But the government has agreed to our request to do an autopsy at a lawyer's presence. No matter what, we want justice." 

     

    Li had done a controversial interview with a Hong Kong-based TV channel that aired on June 4, the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square protests, in which he detailed the torture he underwent during the more than 20 years he spent in Chinese prisons.When Zhao was asked if he thought that interview had something to do with Li’s death, he said, “Yes.”

    Zhao then quickly hung up the phone, saying someone had entered his hotel room, "It's not convenient now, let's talk later." 

    Over 20 years in prison
    Li, 61, had worked as a glass factory worker before he took the position of Chairman of Shaoyang Autonomous Workers Federation in 1989. He was a supporter of the student protests in Beijing in 1989 before they were brutally suppressed by the government with hundreds, if not thousands, of people killed by the army. 

    Li was first arrested on June 9, 1989 for the crime of "active participation in a counter-revolutionary group.” He spent 11 years in a local prison. 

    Vincent Yu / AP

    Protesters mourn the death of Chinese labor activist Li Wangyang, seen in picture at center, during a protest outside the Chinese central government's liaison office, in Hong Kong on Thursday.

    When Li was released from that prison term in 2000, he was suffering from severe heart disease, hyperthyroidism, and cervical vertebra diseases, according to family and friends. He was extremely weak and lost most of his hearing and sight in his left eye.

    His second arrest, just one year later, made him one of the longest-serving political prisoners in China. 

    In September 2001, Li was sentenced to 10 more years in prison for the crime of "subversion of state power.” That sentence was a result of a 22-day hunger strike by Li as an effort to protest the continuous persecution he had been subjected to after his release. His medical treatment was terminated and his house had been demolished, leaving him in frail health with nowhere to go, according to media reports.

    After he went back to prison, his sister, Li Wangling, was put in a forced labor camp for three years for accepting interviews with the Voice of America and Radio Free Asia. 

    Li was finally released from that prison sentence on May 5, 2011. Huang Lihong, a local teacher and Li’s friend, told NBC News that Li’s health was greatly damaged at the time. 

    "He had lost his sight and hearing. He couldn’t walk, and suffered from diabetes and heart disease, due to longtime torture. His muscles contracted and he was in bed all the time,” said Huang.

    However, Huang believed Li had been doing better in the past 12 months. "His health was improving and he remained hopeful. He was happy when we told him we believed the 1989 movement would be redressed soon." 

    Too outspoken: ‘I’m not afraid of death’
    But Li may have been too confident that past wrongs would be righted soon. In an interview on June 4, the 23rd anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown, with i-CABLE, a Hong Kong based news channel, Li was extremely outspoken in his description of his torture during his various prison terms. 

    "The prison had their own tailored handcuffs, smaller than your wrists,” Li explained. “They used pliers to handcuff me, and that was almost like clamping my wrist bones with pliers. When they did that I almost lost consciousness and couldn’t see anymore." 

    In the two-minute-long video interview, Li, who appeared physically deteriorated, said he didn’t regret what he did. "Every man has a share of responsibility for the fate of his country. I’m not afraid of death, if that would fasten China’s process to enter a multi-party and democratic society." 

    When asked about the candle vigil on the night of the anniversary in Hong Kong, Li said, "I hope Hong Kong’s memorial will spread all over China," with his arm waving firmly in the air and a very thick Hunan accent, "I hope it’s remembered by all Chinese people." 

    Two days after the interview he was found dead in his hospital room. 

    ‘Everything seemed fine’ two days before
    Another longtime friend of Li’s also expressed disbelief that he would ever take his own life. 

    "Everything seemed fine when I visited him on June 4," Zhu Chengzhi, a long-term activist and former school mate of Li’s, told NBC News in a phone interview Thursday. 

    "We talked about many things, like Syria deporting foreign ambassadors. He was in a good mood, and seemed to be more open minded since last May,” said Zhu. “As a close friend, I don’t believe he would commit suicide." 

    Zhu also said in another interview that just one day before his death, Li asked his sister to buy him a radio so he could listen to the news.

    Zhou Zhirong, a local leader of China’s legal, but powerless, "Democratic Party", is organizing a "committee of investigation into the death of Li Wangyang," under the risk of being arrested himself for doing so. 

    "I have no evidence whether [Li] was killed, but I think the long term persecution by the authorities led to Li’s death," said Zhou in a phone interview with NBC News Thursday. "Li Wangyang is Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela in China. I don’t believe our investigation will come to any fruition, but it will wake up the citizens and make them fight for their rights." 

    NBC News calls to Shaoyang and Longhui police for comment on Li’s death went unanswered.  

    As of Thursday afternoon 2,700 people, including prominent Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei, scholars, lawyers and writers, had signed an online petition to step up pressure on China to investigate Li’s death, according to Reuters.  

    Horace Lu contributed to this report.

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  • Stray dog follows bikers over 1,100 miles to Tibet

    In China, a homeless dog latched onto a group of cyclists and the plucky canine ran along with them for their 24-day ride. The cyclists embraced their energetic, little companion, feeding it along the way.

    BEIJING – A stray dog has become China’s newest celebrity after latching onto a group of cyclists and traveling more than 1,100 miles over at least 12 mountains, some as high as 13,000 feet, in China’s southwestern Tibetan Plateau.

    The homeless dog, nicknamed Xiao Sa, finished her 24-day journey from China’s Sichuan Province to Lhasa, Tibet on May 24.


    “At first we didn’t think about adopting her at all,” said 22-year-old cyclist and college student Xiao Yong in an interview with China Central TV. “But we were shocked by her perseverance. She followed us [from Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province] to Litang [a town in Sichuan province with a 2.6 mile altitude]. We then decided to make a cage for her when we had a steep road going downhill.”

    The long march began with a chicken leg Xiao Yong tossed to the puppy when he started his bike ride in early May. The little mutt followed the cyclist team after that and became part of the cycling group.

    They came up with the nickname “Xiao Sa” by combining the term “xiao,” which means “little,” with the last syllable of Lhasa, the administrative capital of Tibet and the cyclists final destination.

    “She once ran 37 miles in one day, going uphill. We were very impressed by Xiao Sa’s persistence, that inspired us all the way till our destination, the Potala Palace [in Lhasa, Tibet],” said Xiao Yong. “I’ll take Xiao Sa back home. I think she’s taking me as her owner now.”

    Lu Bo, another team member, said the little white fur-ball was an inspiration to the whole team. The dog “made us so happy. Once a few of our team members lagged behind, she ran from hill top to the bottom, to bring these guys to the rest of the team. She injected power into us,” said Lu. 

    She is now with her new owner, Xiao Yong, in Wuhan, capital city of the southern Hubei province.

    And like a true celebrity, Xiao Sa has even opened her own Weibo account, China’s most popular Twitter-like service. It is called “GoGoXiaoSa,” where fans can check out her latest photos and whereabouts. And she already has over 82,000 followers.

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  • Freedom from Chinese labor camp comes thanks to leader's downfall

    Bo Gu/NBC News Beijing

    Chinese blogger Fang Hong

    BEIJING -- Westerners spreading Christmas cheer with their holiday lights last year probably didn’t realize that some of the warm glow came courtesy of a prison labor camp in China, and partially thanks to a former inmate named Fang Hong.

    After serving a year making Christmas lights in grueling conditions, Fang Hong was released on April 24 from the Drug Rehabilitation and Re-Education-Through-Labor Center in China’s southwestern mega-city of Chongqing.

    Fang’s crime? Before their fall, he criticized Wang Lijun and Bo Xilai, two formally powerful Chongqing officials, now with their own legal problems.


    Wang is the ex-police chief of Chongqing, who fled to the American consulate in Chengdu for protection in February, allegedly after a fall-out with Bo.

    Ed Flanagan / NBC News

    A crowd gathers around Fang Hong in Chongqing to hear his story.

    Bo is the former Party Secretary of Chongqing, who had been a hot contender for one of China’s most powerful political positions on the standing committee of the Communist Party's politburo, but is now under investigation for corruption. His current whereabouts are unknown.

    Thin and energetic, 45-year-old Fang has never been shy about speaking out. Before his imprisonment, he worked at the Fuling District Forestry Bureau in Chongqing, but spent most of his spare time writing blogs that challenged wasteful public spending and criticizing government corruption.

    It is unclear whether a post he wrote last April was the last straw. In it, he mocked a lawsuit that implicated Li Zhuang, a lawyer who defended a businessman during Bo’s controversial crackdown on gangs started in 2009. While defending the businessman, Li himself drew criticism and was accused of inciting perjury. 

    “Bo Xilai took a dump, and asked Wang Lijun to eat it,” Fang wrote. “Wang passed the dump to the public prosecutor, and public prosecutor passed it to the court. The court then passed it to Li Zhuang. Li’s lawyer said, Li is not hungry. Whoever took the dump can eat it.”

    City divided by disgraced Communist leader's legacy

    The mocking scatological references obviously irritated someone within the police force, who then summoned Fang on the same evening that the blog post was published.

    The murder of an English business man and corruption scandal, involving one of the China's most powerful men, has gripped the country. NBC's Ian Williams reports.

    Fang was told by police to delete his post. He did, but his ordeal had just begun.

    The next day, Fang received a summons again from the Chongqing police. He refused to go, but soon found his home surrounded by more than 20 policemen and a fire truck. The standoff lasted a whole day.

    Fang was detained, and four days later received a written decision without trial, sentencing him to one year in a labor re-education prison for “spreading rumors and disturbing social order.”

    Fang’s son and his girlfriend were also forced to “take a vacation” to prevent them from talking to lawyers and journalists.

    Fang told NBC News he had to work about 10 hours every day, including weekends. He said he was locked in the prison along with about 1,000 other inmates. He shared a room with 11 others, most of whom were serving sentences for petty crimes such as gambling, fighting, stealing a neighbor’s chicken, or taking lewd photos.

    Fang said his job was to weld Christmas light bulbs for a Shenzhen-based company called Kingland Lighting, and also screw in wires for notebooks for another company, Chongqing Baogen. He also made straws for Fuling Taiji Group for its health drinks. Kingland’s website says it exports its Christmas lights to Europe.

    Fang made 8 Yuan a month, about of $1.27. He told NBC News he was not allowed to eat meat and had no connections with anyone on the other side of the iron bars. A chain smoker, Fang said he eased his nicotine withdrawal thanks to a cellmate who smuggled in cigarettes for him. Chinese prisons allow inmates to smoke, but Fang had been stripped of this privilege.

    In February, a lawyer who came to see Fang told him Wang and Bo were in trouble.

    “The whole labor camp was in ecstasy,” said Fang. “Everyone was jubilant and saying, the oppressive official is now a traitor! The red song singer is a traitor!”

    On April 24, Fang was finally released.

    What did it feel like to regain his freedom? Fang simply shook his head and calmly said: “Nothing. I have no feeling. Nothing is too shocking in this country. Unfortunately, I was born in China.”

    With the help of a few lawyers, Fang is now suing the Education-through-Labor Office of Chongqing, demanding that his conviction be overturned and asking for compensation.

    Whether his case will be heard by the Chongqing's Third Intermediate Court is uncertain. Pu Zhiqiang, one of the lawyers fighting for Fang, told NBC News he’s optimistic.

    “If the court rejects his case, it shows its cowardice to the whole world. It tells people the court cannot meet a citizen’s expectations,” Pu said.

    Fang and his lawyers hope that by making his case known to the world, China will one day abolish the decades-long re-education through labor system.

    “We should pursue the answer to one question: Is a labor camp legal?” said Pu. “Is it based on laws? It’s so brutal and completely up to some individual’s decision to arrest anyone, without trail and any legal procedure. Victims have no way to help themselves. It’s against the Chinese constitution and international laws. The labor camp system should be permanently abolished.”

    (NBC News contacted Chongqing Third Intermediate Court on May 15. The court confirmed Fang's case will be heard but declined to give more comments at the moment.)

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  • Chinese crackdown on dissident's family and friends

    BEIJING – He Peirong’s voice was last heard on Friday morning, when she was talking to Bob Fu, the head of the U.S.-based nonprofit group China Aid. Fu said he was communicating with He via Skype when she said that state security agents had arrived at her home. Nobody has been able to contact her since then.

    He, an activist, is one of the many people who assisted Chen Guangcheng’s daring escape from a year and a half of house arrest last week. The blind lawyer and human rights activist is now allegedly under the protection of the U.S. Embassy in Beijing.

    But his family members and friends are still subject to police detention and harassment, a contradiction to claims by some people that his brutal persecution was only a single case by the local government in Shandong province, where Chen is from.


    U.S. relations with China are being put to the test over the fate of Chen Guangcheng, a blind Chinese dissident who escaped from house arrest in China and is believed to be in the U.S. embassy or another safe site. NBC's Ian Williams reports.

    Mysterious disappearances
    Among those who have disappeared is another helper, Guo Yushan, a Beijing-based human rights advocate.

    Guo was taken away by police on April 26, but released Monday night. Shortly after he was let go, Guo answered a phone call from the Hong Kong paper Apply Daily, claiming he was one of the organizers of Chen’s escape. He also confirmed to Apple Daily that some of the local villagers were also arrested for assisting the breakout.

    Who is Fu? Chinese exile is 'God's double agent'

    However, when NBC News tried to reach him by phone multiple times Tuesday, his phone went silent again. He allegedly had a conversation with police Tuesday morning.

    At least three of Chen’s relatives have been detained by police, including his brother and uncle. Chen’s mother, wife and 6-year-old daughter are still under siege at their home in Linyi in eastern Shandong province by dozens of thugs, who stopped journalists’ attempts to enter their home after his escape.

    Chen Kegui, a nephew of Chen, is also on the run now after he stabbed two unidentified men who broke into his home Thursday night when they took his father.

    According to a report from the British newspaper The Guardian, Chen Kegui’s wife wouldn’t even tell their lawyer Liu Weiguo where she was hiding herself, too frightened of being dragged away like her relatives. But even the lawyer wasn’t exempt from the pressure from the authorities.

    Watch World News videos on msnbc.com

    Chen Wuquan, another Guangdong-based lawyer, told NBC News that Liu sent him a text message early Tuesday morning, saying he had been summoned by police and was under heavy surveillance. NBC News tried to contact Liu many times, but his cell phone remains off.

    Cat and mouse between censored and censors
    Meanwhile, the Chinese government is enforcing its strong will to hide the news from the public.

    On China’s most popular Twitter-like service, Weibo, searching for names like "Chen Guangcheng" or "He Peirong" only leads you to some unrelated posts of funny videos, a predictable result.

    But in the past few days, tweets with other words that netizens have been using as code words to avoid censorship, including "blind man," "sightless," "sunglass man" and "Shawshank Redemption," have all miraculously disappeared.

    Threads guiding users to foreign media reports also have been deleted -- hours or sometimes minutes after they are added to Weibo. The wrestling between the censors and the censored is turning into a cat-and-mouse game and a test of imagination.

     

  • What exactly is 'Hand Shredded A$$ Meat'? A new dictionary for Chinese restaurants may tell you

    Bo Gu / NBC News

    "Hand Shredded Ass Meat" is an unusual translation of an item at a Beijing noodle restaurant NBC's Bo Gu saw recently.

    BEIJING – Overseas tourists often find the menus here befuddling, for good reason.

    After all, what Westerner has experience with foods like these? “Cowboy leg,” “Hand-shredded ass meat,” “Red-burned lion head,” “Strange flavor noodles,” “Blow-up flatfish with no result,” or “Tofu made by woman with freckles.”

    As proud as the Chinese people are of their thousands of years of gastronomic culture, even a Chinese native can feel disoriented when going to another province, given all the different styles of cooking. Many of the food names, often unique to different provinces, get lost in translation, especially in booming cities starting to embrace overseas tourists.


     

    With few English speakers, restaurants usually translate their menus word by word directly from an English-Chinese dictionary. Or they just Google the Chinese characters. A photo that made the rounds online a few years ago got a chuckle from a lot of people: a restaurant with a large “page not found” sign above its door as its English name.

    But the Beijing Municipal government hopes to end such unintended jokes with its new guidebook intended for the public and restaurants alike, “Enjoy Culinary Delights: The English Translation of Chinese Menus.”

    The effort began in 2006 with a “Beijing speaks English” campaign. By the 2008 Summer Olympics, officials had created a draft guide with translations for major restaurants to meet the demand for arriving athletes and tourists.

    “After 2008, we felt like the book was in a good demand, so we kept working on it and collected more menus. Finally we translated over 2,000 Chinese dish names,” said Xiang Ping, deputy chief of the “Beijing speaks English” committee, in an interview with NBC News.

    The cover of the new guidebook, "Enjoy culinary delights: the English translation of Chinese menus," that hopes to make it easier for foreigners to make sense of restaurant menus in Beijing.

    Some of the dishes kept their original names, which people familiar with Chinese food may understand: jiaozi, baozi, mantou, tofu or wonton.

    Some more complicated dishes come with both Chinese pronunciations and explanations: “fotiaoqiang” (steamed abalone with shark’s fin and fish maw in broth); “youtiao” (deep-fried dough sticks); “lvdagunr” (glutinous rice rolls stuffed with red bean paste),
    and “aiwowo” (steamed rice cakes with sweet stuffing).

    Chen Lin, a 90-year-old retired English professor from Beijing Foreign Language University, was the chief consultant for the book.
    He told NBC News that about 20 other experts – like English teachers and professors, translators, expats who have lived in China for a long time, culinary experts and people from the media – helped develop the final version.  

    So next time you're in Beijing and you are confronted with a menu item like "hand shredded ass meat," hopefully you can crack open the book to get some guidance. It means "hand shredded donkey meat."

  • Scandal sends China's netizens into a feeding frenzy

    Jason Lee / Reuters

    China's Chongqing Municipality Communist Party Secretary Bo Xilai waves a Chinese national flag during an event in Chongqing municipality in this June 2011 file photo.

    BEIJING – It’s the biggest news in China in a long time – and China’s netizens are finding ways to get around censors to gossip and get the latest online rumors.

    The scandal, which has spread to the New York Times front page and other Western news outlets, is centered on Bo Xilai, the former Communist Party secretary of Chongqing, China’s biggest municipality with 30 million residents, and his wife, Gu Kailai, who is a murder suspect in the death of British businessman Neil Heywood.

    Before the bombshell announcement from China’s official news agency, Bo had been considered one of the top contenders for the country’s highest echelon of power, the standing committee of the politburo of the Communist Party, in the upcoming power reshuffle this fall.
     
    No further official information has been released since last Tuesday’s news, but it still seems as if China’s entire population of 1.3 billion people is talking about the scandal. And despite the government’s best efforts to squelch online chatter, the country’s savvy computer fans have come up with novel ways to circumvent Beijing’s watchdogs.  


    Foreign 'rumors'
    Foreign media have continued to feed the voracious appetite for more juicy details from Chinese netizens.

    Kyodo / Reuters

    China's former Chongqing Municipality Communist Party Secretary Bo Xilai and his wife Gu Kailai in a January 2007 file photo.

    Many in China have made use of VPNs (virtual private networks) to circumvent the Great Firewall to access these Western reports, as well as overseas Chinese websites like Boxun, or Hong Kong and Taiwanese media reports. 

    Every time a new article comes out, it’s instantly translated into Chinese and posted on Weibo, China’s most popular Twitter-like service, followed by tons of comments and re-tweets.

    The foreign reports have delved into everything about Gu Kailai, Bo’s wife, from her business dealings to her friends and close personal relationship with Heywood.

    The extravagant lifestyle of Bo Guagua, Bo Xilai and Gu’s only son, has also come under the spotlight in foreign news reports – from his hard-partying ways at expensive private schools such as, Harrow, Oxford and Harvard, to his penchant for fast cars.   

    And on Tuesday Reuters added a new wrinkle to the story with a report that Bo initially agreed to a police probe of his wife's role in the murder before abruptly reversing course and demoting his police chief, which eventually led to the downfall of both men.

    The government has applied every method possible to silence not just the local press, but the public passing along tidbits from the foreign reports.

    Posts regarding the Bo scandal, defined by the official media as “rumors,” are usually deleted quickly after they show up online. Major web portals have been ordered to intensify their monitoring of allegedly scurrilous reports. And government mouthpieces like CCTV and Xinhua have appealed to the public to stop spreading rumors.

    Chinese authorities do not issue empty threats – at least six people were recently arrested for posting gossip about a rumored military coup in Beijing.

    Getting around the Great Firewall
    But cracking down on gossip is an enormous project in China. The country’s sophisticated netizens – who now number up to an estimated 500 million – pass along rumors using puns, hints and words with different Chinese characters but similar pronunciation to key words.

    For instance, the word “Bo,” which also means “thin” in Chinese, has been replaced by the term “not thick.” Many posts have called Bo “the not thick governor” in order to slide past censors.  

    Meanwhile, some witty netizens have referred to the city of Chongqing as “tomato,” because tomato is pronounced “Xi Hong Shi” in Chinese, which sounds the same as “Western Red City.” That seemingly cryptic reference is to the “red revolutionary song” campaign initiated by Bo when he was governing Chongqing. As the son of a major leader of China’s Communist Revolution, Bo was also famous for promoting a campaign to revive Cultural Revolution-era “red culture.”

    “This is the most remarkable event [in China] ever since 1976, when the Gang of Four was arrested,” said Yao Bo, a China-based Internet observer and blogger, in a phone interview with NBC News. He was referring to when the leaders of China’s disastrous Cultural Revolution were publicly purged from the Communist Party a month after Chairman Mao’s death – marking the end of one of China’s most turbulent political eras.

    “When people used to talk about politics on forums or bulletins before, it was censored much more easily, since such discussion always had a topic. Weibo is like a virus, it can share information much faster and becomes uncontrollable,” Yao said.

    ‘We Firmly Support the Central Party’
    The government has tried to introduce a counter-campaign of sorts by ordering all major newspapers and TV news channels to pledge their loyalty to the Communist Party. Within a few days after Bo’s scandal was exposed, a variety of publications had editorials with the same headline: “We Firmly Support the Central Party.”
     
    Some leftist websites that openly supported a return to a Maoist-like regime have been mysteriously shut down in recent days – another signal suggesting its best time to stick to the party line. None of them has publicly stated that they are following an official order, but they all went into “maintenance-mode” simultaneously.
     
    Over the last few days less gossip devoted to the Bo scandal has appeared online, which Yao attributed to both censorship and the political nature of the scandal. 

    “What Bo did was to pull China in an extreme direction when nobody knew where it was going. The leftists say ‘it’s a red trial,’ the rightists say ‘it’s a disaster.’ Now he’s down, people have nothing to argue about. This is a signal sent by the highest leaders that they do not wish to go back to China’s past.”
     
    “This has made netizens realize one thing: rumor is another name for truth,” said Yao.

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  • Chinese tourists are gouged (by the Chinese)

    Mark Ralston / AFP - Getty Images

    Chinese tourists pose for photos in front of a portrait of the late Chairman Mao Zedong at Tiananmen Square in Beijing on Feb. 27, 2012.

    BEIJING – It can be exorbitantly expensive to travel in China – and Chinese tourists are fed-up.

    For instance, Sanya, a big resort city on China’s southern tropical island province of Hainan, is usually a dream destination for winter holiday makers. But it is becoming a target of netizens complaining about being ruthlessly ripped off there. One irate tourist recently complained on Weibo, China’s popular Twitter-like microblogging site, that he paid almost $635 dollars for a meal of three dishes including one fish.

    Tourists everywhere could complain about getting gouged.  But it seems that Chinese tourists truly are justified in their gripes.

    For example, a recent study published by Netease.com, one of China’s biggest Web portals,  borrowed the concept of the Big Mac index from the Economist to compare the prices of tourist attractions in both China and overseas.


    The Economist’s Big Mac index is based on the “theory of purchasing-power parity.” 

    They use the cost of a Big Mac in the U.S. as a benchmark and compare it to the local cost of a Big Mac to create a comparison between the currencies.

    The Netease.com article borrowed the Big Mac index idea to compare entrance fees charged at Chinese tourist attractions versus those overseas.

    The statistics are eye-opening.  

    Andy Wong / AP

    Tourists visit Tiananmen Gate on China's National Day in Beijing on Oct. 1, 2011

    For example, the cost of admission to Jiuzhaigou National Park in southwest China, a U.N. biosphere reserve famous for its shimmering turquoise lakes and snow-crusted mountain peaks, costs 220 Yuan ($35) to get in, or, 14.3 Big Macs.

    In contrast, Yellowstone National Park costs an adult entering by foot or bike $12 dollars, the equivalent of 2.7 Big Macs. (It costs $25 dollars for one vehicle, including all passengers).

    In Paris, the Louvre Museum costs 2.9 Big Macs, while a ticket to China’s Palace Museum inside the Forbidden City in Beijing is as much as 3.9 Big Macs.

    The well-known Great Wall just outside Beijing also looks expensive – its cost is 2.9 Big Macs, compared to the Taj Mahal, which is a quarter of one Big Mac (for Indian tourists; foreigners are charged more).

    No regulation
    “There’s no government supervision of ticket prices,” said Wu Jingmin, a former tour guide who agitated the tourism industry in 2006 by publishing his book “How Can I Not Rip You Off? – A Tour Guide’s Monologue.” In the book, Wu exposed how the industry scams tourists, from tour agencies to restaurants and even local governments.

    Besides high admission fees in China, travelers also often have to pay additional costs at tourist sites for such items as shuttle buses or cable cars.

    At Changbaishan, the sacred mountain on the border of China and North Korea, a tourist must buy three different tickets at $16 a piece if they wish to take in the view from its three different peaks, and that doesn’t include the extra $14 for the shuttle bus. 

    Chinese tourists also normally travel during one of the three one-week-long national holidays.  Even if that means going to Beijing’s Forbidden City with 130,000 more visitors than on a usual day, or slowly pushing their way forward on the Great Wall when it is as packed as a rush hour subway.

    “The regulations for ticket prices are in complete disorder,” Wu, the former tour guide, told NBC News in a phone interview. “Local price regulators usually say ‘yes’ to tourist attractions, no matter what they want to charge. Then the tourist-trap managers give a big discount to tour agencies, who make the money from selling very expensive tickets to tourists.” 

    Wu complained that little is being done to remedy the situation.  

    “The natural resources belong to the people. They just build a wall around it and then charge a high ticket price to the people, who don’t really have a choice. This industry’s future is worrying,” added Wu.  

    He’s says he’s planning to create his own tour packages to counter the notorious prices in Sanya.

  • Hong Kong is still a world away from mainland China for many

    A photo from August 2011 shows an aerial view of Central District in Hong Kong, China.

    Hong Kong means “fragrant harbor” in Cantonese, but to me as a young girl in the 1980s it meant “mysterious dream.”  

    My family, like millions of others in mainland China, didn’t own a television at the time. But the most enjoyable after-school activity for me and my friends was to go to the home of our one neighbor who actually had a TV to watch Hong Kong kung-fu series.

    He had a black-and-white TV, but managed to make it look like a colored one by gluing a few translucent colored plastic straps on the screen. We were happy enough with a fake colored TV. We were also all fascinated by the Hong Kong soap operas. None of us could speak a word of Cantonese (the dialect spoken in Hong Kong), but we all could sing a few songs in perfect Cantonese; the shows’ themes songs played repeatedly on TV.

    People talked about Hong Kong like it was a paradise of milk and honey: “Mr. Li got a new watch from his relative in Hong Kong! Look at him!”


    We also heard stories of mainlanders swimming across the sea between neighboring Guangdong province to sneak into Hong Kong, seeking asylum or a free life.   

    In those old days, Hong Kong was a land of “capitalist” treasure, closed off to mainlanders like me, but open to the rest of world. Hong Kong was a lofty faraway dream that none of us thought would ever come true for us.
     
    Just a few years later, every family in my hometown could afford to buy a TV, a refrigerator, and a telephone. Some richer ones even got themselves video cassette players.  

    Then on July 1, 1997, we were told that Hong Kong was finally handed back to China after 100 years of British colonial rule. We were told to be proud of the return of the lost land cut off from its mother ship for a century.

    It’s true that since Hong Kong’s handover it is no longer such a mystery – but in many ways it is still a world away for many mainland Chinese.

    Not so open for mainlanders
    For instance, on a recent trip, I left Beijing one hour earlier than my American colleague – but she arrived in Hong Kong several hours before me. She was able to hop a flight directly from Beijing to Hong Kong, but because I’m from a small city in mainland China, I was denied that privilege.

    Not every mainlander can go to Hong Kong anytime they wish. For starters, they need a special blue pass that is issued only for trips to Hong Kong and nearby Macau. Like a regular China passport, this special pass is only given out by local police in the person’s hometown.

    Take me, for example. Even though I have been living in Beijing for many years, I have to fly back to my hometown to apply for that blue pass. (I could apply for one in Beijing if I had Beijing residency, but I don’t and it is extremely hard to obtain.)
     
    And – unlike my American colleague or most visitors other countries – I need a visa to go to Hong Kong.

    Someone like me, who doesn’t have relatives or a business in Hong Kong, can only get a seven-day group tourist visa to visit. Individual tourist visas are only available to residents of many Guangdong province cities, such as nearby Shenzhen, and big cities in other provinces.

    So to get there for our recent assignment, I had to fly to Shenzhen, known for its cheap labor and numerous factories. From there I took a bus from Shenzhen airport to the Shenzhen side of the Hong Kong border, where I met a travel agent.

    The agent filled out a form to show the company had organized a “tour group” for me. Then he took me to the border inspection, where the officer stamped the form and my blue pass.

    The border officer, the agent and I all knew I wasn’t joining any “tour group.” Everyone knew I was going to Hong Kong on my own. But I had to detour first through Shenzhen, with its population of 15 million, because I’m from a smaller faraway city (population of 3 million), not Beijing or Shanghai or Guangzhou.

    Anchor baby battle: Hong Kong vs. China

    Biggest surprise: bookstores
    Hong Kong didn’t strike me as anything special when I first saw it in person. I had seen the city so many times on TV.

    But certain things did surprise me. I was stunned by its bookstores: biographies of Chinese politicians, memoirs of dissidents, books about corruption and power struggles between Chinese officials were openly available. I could find any of the books normally banned in China.

    I also noticed Hong Kong has the fastest escalators I’ve ever seen. There, everyone walks fast. Nobody would stop for me and my colleague when we tried to interview people on the street. In fact they didn’t even look at us. They were always rushing as if they had very important business to take care of.
     
    The variety of food and drink in Hong Kong is also amazing, but it’s much more expensive than in Beijing and Shanghai. That doesn’t stop tons of mainlanders from buying it though. They come here to buy iPhones, computers, high-end cosmetics and expensive clothes.  The mainland might have been Hong Kong’s poor cousin for decades, but with mainlanders’ new-found wealth things have completely changed – almost.

    There is still an impression in Hong Kong that their nouveau riche cousins have a bit of impolite country bumpkin in them.

    Once when I entered Hong Kong I was struck by a sign on the wall: “Please cover your mouth when you sneeze.”  This is a sign I have never seen in the mainland.

    In fact, during all my 16 years of mainland education, not a single teacher or parent ever told students, “don’t spit in public” or “wait in line.” There was no such thing as etiquette education back then.

    I don’t know what’s going on in schools now, but I certainly hope the children in kindergarten these days are told to cover their mouths when they sneeze. (And I find it funny when I hear that Hong Kongers criticize mainlanders for being “loud.” I have the impression that the Cantonese are the loudest people in the world.)

    Some friends tell me the recent tension between Hong Kong people and mainlanders – over issues like birth rights – is exaggerated by the media. Some other mainland friends say they clearly feel the hostility expressed by the locals. Some scholars say it is actually a conflict between Western and Eastern cultures, due to Hong Kong’s colonial past and international flavor.

    Exaggerated or not, I sure don’t want to be called a “locust,” an insult currently being hurled at mainlanders by their Hong Kong brethren.  

    Many mainlanders yearn to have the same lifestyle as Hong Kong people have –just like the one Hong Kongers pursued all those decades when they left mainland China.

  • Rebellious Chinese village takes baby steps toward democracy

    Bobby Yip / Reuters

    A villager shows off his ballot before dropping it into the ballot box beside an election worker at a polling station at a school in Wukan village in Guangdong province on Feb. 1.

    BEIJING – Wukan, a village in Guangdong province in southern China, is making headlines again – this time for taking the first steps toward open and transparent elections, which 7,688 villagers participated in on Wednesday.

    Wukan was in the spotlight late last year for a high-profile protest by villagers against local officials believed to be illegally selling public land to developers. 

    The 11-day rebellion was defused peacefully in late December after senior Communist Party officials reached an agreement with Wukan’s protest leaders – promising free elections and an investigation into the murky real-estate deals. They also promised to investigate the death of a protester who had died in police custody.


    In another surprise, the local Communist Party appointed Lin Zuluan, one of the well-respected leaders of the defiant revolt, as the village party secretary. So Lin served as the chief in command for the first balloting that took place in the Wukan Elementary School Wednesday.

    Villagers gathered in a festive scene to cast votes, for many the first time ever, to select an independent election committee to oversee upcoming ballots.  

    Initial steps
    Dozens of aluminum ballot boxes were placed around classrooms at the elementary school and students were mobilized to help count the ballots before they were distributed. Teachers helped elderly villagers who could not read or write.  A media counter was set up outside the school, and journalists were allowed in after registration.

    “My biggest impression here at Wukan is that the atmosphere here is very different from any other Chinese villages,” one Chinese reporter at the scene wrote on Sina Weibo, the Chinese microblog. “The people here are very used to foreign journalists walking around filming. The village committee is open to everyone. Every family invites you to go to their house to stay, to eat or to drink tea. Brave and lucky Wukan villagers made their home different than any other Chinese villages with the same problems.”

    Str / AFP - Getty Images

    Residents register before casting their votes during the first-ever open democratic elections for the village committee in Wukan, in China's Guangdong province, on Feb. 1.

    The election lasted nine hours (with a two-hour break). It began at 9 a.m. with the national anthem playing and fireworks being set off – a Chinese tradition during the new lunar year.

    The final results came at 11 p.m.: Out of the 50 candidates, 11 (including one woman) were elected to be on the election committee.

    The new members will be responsible for organizing an upcoming election for the Wukan Village Committee. They will devise a plan for the election process; mobilize and familiarize the villagers with the new plan; scrutinize and publish the candidate list; and, most importantly, organize the villagers to vote. The election is due to start in early March.

    Not a new idea
    Village-level elections are not a new concept to Chinese people, but seldom are they transparent or democratic. The Communist Party still maintains single-party authority across the government – from Beijing to the smallest village – and has absolute control.

    There have been experiments with grassroots elections since the 1980s – the outcome is usually just pre-determined from above. Representatives are often appointed by higher-level government officials and the process is usually murky or manipulated.

    In Wukan, the former village head had been in power for 40 years without ever being properly elected. He was accused of misappropriating public land and embezzling compensation money that belonged to villagers.

    So many are hopeful Wukan’s experiment will spread.

    “Wukan is a start of China’s local political reform! I hope to see a real self-rule in the countryside,” wrote a Weibo user going by the name “Orient leaping towards wealth."

    Str / AFP - Getty Images

    A Chinese man fills out his voting form as residents cast their votes during the first-ever open democratic elections for the village committee in Wukan, China on Feb. 1.

    The user added, “Villagers that have both traditional legal culture and modern citizen spirit, they are the hope of China’s democracy.”
    ‘An experiment in democracy’
    But others are not so sure about declaring a democratic victory in Wukan.

    Chang Ping, a veteran journalist based in Hong Kong who has been closely following events in Wukan, is not so optimistic about its future.

    “Their path is not going to be very smooth. The Guangdong government was smart about not cracking down with violence like other local governments, but that doesn’t mean they agree with complete self-rule. They will try to absorb Wukan into their old system, which they can still control. If that happens, the election will be the same election happening everywhere else,” Chang told NBC News in a phone interview. “Wukan’s protest has no end. Democracy doesn’t arrive just because you had three months of protest.”

    However, Chang agreed that the event is revolutionary – if only as an exercise in how elections are supposed to work.

    “Most of the elections we see are usually manipulated or the villagers don’t really know what their vote means. But Wukan villagers have their own understanding of voting, after their protest to finally obtain this right,” said Chang.  “It is an experiment in democracy, and it will affect other places in China.”

    Related stories on Wukan:

    Photo Blog: Chinese village takes halting democratic step

    Rebellious Chinese village under siege by police

    Villagers defiant as government creates new narrative

    A contagion of conflict in China?

  • Chinese try to put lid on Western-style TV

    BEIJING – Satellite broadcasters in China have cut their entertainment programming – including dating and reality shows – by two-thirds this week in order to comply with a new government edict.

    The State Administration of Film Radio and Television, or SARFT, China’s highest media watchdog, announced the new rule in October – but it just came into effect Jan. 1. The number of entertainment shows airing during primetime has been cut from 126 to 38, according to the watchdog.

    Apparently the ruling Communist Party is not happy with the proliferation of dating and talent shows that have become extremely popular in China over the last few years.

    “Super Girl,” a copycat of “American Idol” by Hunan Satellite TV, started airing in 2004. It became the second most popular program in the country, behind only China Central TV (CCTV)’s prime-time news. During its final contest in August 2005, the show attracted about 9 million votes from the audience members for their favorite singers.

    But that record was quickly surpassed by the sassy reality show “If You Are The One.” As the country’s most popular dating program, it  broke viewership records in 2010 – more than 50 million people tuned in. It has made couch potatoes out of young and old who are glued to the TV every Saturday and Sunday night.  

    The success of those shows launched a whole series of similar “entertainment” programs, such as Shanghai OTV’s “Let’s Shake It” and “China’s Got Talent.” Many other provincial satellite TV channels soon followed suit, attracting millions of viewers, as well as ad dollars. 

    But now, the state media watchdog has said, enough is enough.

    'What’s next, to become North Korea?'
    “Why do they do that? If they want to brainwash people, why can’t they just let people have some fun? What’s next, to become North Korea?” asked Yvonne Kwan, the mother of a 6-year-old daughter.

    Yvonne doesn’t watch that much TV, but she thinks the new rule isn't smart. “The audiences are used to what they watch. If you stop selling coffee to coffee drinkers and sell other drinks to them, they’ll only look for coffee somewhere else. These people will just go to Internet to watch the shows online,” she said.

    Some critics say the recent restrictions are just another stab at stifling freedom of speech. The policy comes on the heels of another new rule that citizens must register with their real identities, not false names, on Weibo, a Twitter-like, but government-controlled, microblogging service.

    The new restrictions came into effect just as President Hu Jintao published an essay in a Communist Party policy magazine earlier this week lashing out against the influence of Western culture. In the essay he stressed, “We must clearly see that international hostile forces are intensifying the strategic plot of Westernizing and dividing China, and ideological and cultural fields are the focal areas of their long-term infiltration.”

    Hu emphasized that the country must be on high alert for these nefarious forces. “We should deeply understand the seriousness and complexity of the ideological struggle, always sound the alarms and remain vigilant, and take forceful measures to be on guard and respond.”

    What's really behind the clampdown? Money
    Wang Xiaofeng, a senior culture reporter and Internet observer, doesn’t think Hu’s speech will have any impact.

    “The cultural industry can be very profitable, much more profitable than selling TV sets. But it can easily awaken people,” Wang told NBC News in a phone interview. He was critical of the idea that the Chinese can suddenly start developing media with the same sophistication of the West.

    “If you want to develop movie industry for example, you have to set up your hardware and see how it’s done in those developed countries. Then you realize how other people live. The Communist Party has abandoned the tradition already; now they can’t just pick it up and use it to challenge the West. Even their own people don’t believe in it,” Wang said.
     
    He attributed the clampdown on entertainment programs to a colder economic calculus.

    “Why do they have to cut the shows? These are not some vulgar or extreme shows. These provincial TV programs are attracting more commercials, and CCTV is losing them. They need the cash from commercials back.”

    But he also suggested the changes may be for other realpolitik reasons. “It also has something to do with the power reshuffle this year. The old cake has already been cut and shared; now it’s time for the new cake in cultural industry.” 

    SARFT is well known for its irregular and not-much-explained crackdown on media. It allows 20 foreign movies to be imported to China every year and tightly controls the publication of all movies, books, magazines and TV programs.

    But as much as Chinese people criticize the watchdog's strict oversight, they never fuss too long, because they have a very pragmatic solution – pirated publications. 

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