CHINA, JOURNALISM AND THE STATE SERIES: Unheard Voices in China
By Lianne Li
Zhao Yan, The New York Times Beijing Bureau, suspected of leaking state secrets; Shi Tao, Hunan journalist and poet, suspected of leaking state secrets; Jiang Weiping, journalist of Wen Hui newspaper, imprisoned for leaking state secrets; Yu Hua, Liu Xiaobo, founders of the Chinese PEN Chapter, arrested and released, after allowing police to search their computer; Jiao Guobiao, a professor of the Journalism Department of Peking University, banned from lecturing.
The list goes on, and still the general public is kept from knowing any of it. Although the call for press freedom has been increasingly louder with the opening up of China's media market and the growth of market-oriented media, there are still voices unheard, arrested mainly by three types of force: the force of routine, the force of opposition, and the force of corruption.
Routine kills voices. It cannot be more plain than in Zhao Yan's case. The New York Times employee was arrested on suspicion of leaking former President Jiang Zemin's plan of resignation. Suppose he did leak the secret, regardless of a lack of proof and the Times' claim that he had not been the source, the state had the need to arrest him in order to exercise regulation in the media sphere.
The Chinese law concerning secrecy in public media states that any one working in the government has to apply for permission before revealing information concerning state secrets to journalists. The confidential information of Jiang Zemin's plan for resignation was known only within the government. Since the state-controlled media had been kept away from it, it was therefore inevitably considered illegal for a Chinese journalist to pass on the information to foreign media without notifying the authorities.
The problem lies in a contradiction of news value and practices--what was considered news was held to be a state secret by the central government. Outsiders of the government may argue that the resignation of a former governmental leader was only a small piece of Party news; but to the insiders, it was not something that would contribute to press freedoms, instead, it could be a destroyer of peace, something always feared by the government.
The September 7 article written by Joseph Khan revealed not only the plan of resignation of a government leader, but also the possible existence of a power struggle within the outwardly peaceful central government. If such a power struggle existed, it was definitely not a good idea to let the citizens know what was happening, for it "threatens the stability of the state." If the power struggle didn't exist as spectators assumed, the government would still want to quell such rumors for they would still "threaten the stability of the state." The practice of journalism, according to the regulations, should be guided by the policies and strategies of the central government and the party, and represent the eyes and nose and throat and tongue of the party and the people.
Journalism in China is never considered, as in some western countries, to be the independent fourth power of the state, and to serve the citizen's interest. State and party has to come first. Although it's true that journalists are given the right of reporting freely, political matters are required to be reported under the rules of the Party; the disclosure of any unchecked information is bordering on leaking state secrets.
The western media's commonplace practice of uncovering "real" news from confidential sources within the government inevitably fails in China, labeled with spying. Secret, inside voices are routinely held dangerous on account of their potential to arouse rumors and unrest, and are hushed up with little regard for the general effect. But, people won't stop suspecting government without inside information; instead, they may fall deeper into disbelief and doubt when there are only hints of something wrong. What is meant to bring peace and stability might produce the opposite.
Opposition arrests a different kind of voice. Jiao Guobiao, a Peking University Professor, wrote a radical article mocking the propaganda ministry of the government and published it on the Internet more than half-a-year ago. The article enumerated 14 "diseases" of the propaganda ministry in offensive language, which became the main reason for the ban on his lectures.
Yu Jie and Liu Xiaobo were detained for several days and returned with the warning not to publish political arguments on the Internet. They were banned under a different charge: spreading criticism of the government. Their opposing views, whether right or not, were only meant to express their opinions, but were considered by the authorities to be a negative influence on the public.
The government's promise to allow more freedom of expression makes the arrest of such voices inexplicable. The growth of Chinese society has seen much intellectual progress, but tolerance and freedom are still coming up short. Nevertheless, the liberal trend is unlikely to turn back. With much confidence, we can say more criticisms are bound to be heard.
The cruelest arrests result from corruption. Jiang Weiping, a journalist who uncovered the corruption of Ma Xiangdong, the former leader in the local government of Dalian, Liaoning province, is still serving a six-year sentence for "leaking state secrets," even when the corruption was found out and the corrupted leader was sentenced. Jiang's sentence was a mistake, and remains so with no measures yet taken to release him. Surely, corruption does more harm than the "leaking of state secrets" in such a case.
If no prevention is taken, there will be no chance for those righteous voices to be heard, no matter how loud are the promises for freedom of expression. The reason why these righteous voices are so vulnerable is that they have little legal protection. China's media legislation is far from being mature; the lack of protection for journalists working to expose corruption places them in a precarious position between right and wrong. The tragedy of Jiang Weiping is not merely his own, but belongs to an entire generation of journalists.
It won't be possible for the state to be free and stable without different voices. It won't be possible to rid the unheard voices from prison without a fair government. And it won't be possible for more such voices to be heard without a harmonious political environment. What is needed by the journalists of tomorrow is a guarantee of their right to speak.
Zhao Yan, The New York Times Beijing Bureau, suspected of leaking state secrets; Shi Tao, Hunan journalist and poet, suspected of leaking state secrets; Jiang Weiping, journalist of Wen Hui newspaper, imprisoned for leaking state secrets; Yu Hua, Liu Xiaobo, founders of the Chinese PEN Chapter, arrested and released, after allowing police to search their computer; Jiao Guobiao, a professor of the Journalism Department of Peking University, banned from lecturing.
The list goes on, and still the general public is kept from knowing any of it. Although the call for press freedom has been increasingly louder with the opening up of China's media market and the growth of market-oriented media, there are still voices unheard, arrested mainly by three types of force: the force of routine, the force of opposition, and the force of corruption.
Routine kills voices. It cannot be more plain than in Zhao Yan's case. The New York Times employee was arrested on suspicion of leaking former President Jiang Zemin's plan of resignation. Suppose he did leak the secret, regardless of a lack of proof and the Times' claim that he had not been the source, the state had the need to arrest him in order to exercise regulation in the media sphere.
The Chinese law concerning secrecy in public media states that any one working in the government has to apply for permission before revealing information concerning state secrets to journalists. The confidential information of Jiang Zemin's plan for resignation was known only within the government. Since the state-controlled media had been kept away from it, it was therefore inevitably considered illegal for a Chinese journalist to pass on the information to foreign media without notifying the authorities.
The problem lies in a contradiction of news value and practices--what was considered news was held to be a state secret by the central government. Outsiders of the government may argue that the resignation of a former governmental leader was only a small piece of Party news; but to the insiders, it was not something that would contribute to press freedoms, instead, it could be a destroyer of peace, something always feared by the government.
The September 7 article written by Joseph Khan revealed not only the plan of resignation of a government leader, but also the possible existence of a power struggle within the outwardly peaceful central government. If such a power struggle existed, it was definitely not a good idea to let the citizens know what was happening, for it "threatens the stability of the state." If the power struggle didn't exist as spectators assumed, the government would still want to quell such rumors for they would still "threaten the stability of the state." The practice of journalism, according to the regulations, should be guided by the policies and strategies of the central government and the party, and represent the eyes and nose and throat and tongue of the party and the people.
Journalism in China is never considered, as in some western countries, to be the independent fourth power of the state, and to serve the citizen's interest. State and party has to come first. Although it's true that journalists are given the right of reporting freely, political matters are required to be reported under the rules of the Party; the disclosure of any unchecked information is bordering on leaking state secrets.
The western media's commonplace practice of uncovering "real" news from confidential sources within the government inevitably fails in China, labeled with spying. Secret, inside voices are routinely held dangerous on account of their potential to arouse rumors and unrest, and are hushed up with little regard for the general effect. But, people won't stop suspecting government without inside information; instead, they may fall deeper into disbelief and doubt when there are only hints of something wrong. What is meant to bring peace and stability might produce the opposite.
Opposition arrests a different kind of voice. Jiao Guobiao, a Peking University Professor, wrote a radical article mocking the propaganda ministry of the government and published it on the Internet more than half-a-year ago. The article enumerated 14 "diseases" of the propaganda ministry in offensive language, which became the main reason for the ban on his lectures.
Yu Jie and Liu Xiaobo were detained for several days and returned with the warning not to publish political arguments on the Internet. They were banned under a different charge: spreading criticism of the government. Their opposing views, whether right or not, were only meant to express their opinions, but were considered by the authorities to be a negative influence on the public.
The government's promise to allow more freedom of expression makes the arrest of such voices inexplicable. The growth of Chinese society has seen much intellectual progress, but tolerance and freedom are still coming up short. Nevertheless, the liberal trend is unlikely to turn back. With much confidence, we can say more criticisms are bound to be heard.
The cruelest arrests result from corruption. Jiang Weiping, a journalist who uncovered the corruption of Ma Xiangdong, the former leader in the local government of Dalian, Liaoning province, is still serving a six-year sentence for "leaking state secrets," even when the corruption was found out and the corrupted leader was sentenced. Jiang's sentence was a mistake, and remains so with no measures yet taken to release him. Surely, corruption does more harm than the "leaking of state secrets" in such a case.
If no prevention is taken, there will be no chance for those righteous voices to be heard, no matter how loud are the promises for freedom of expression. The reason why these righteous voices are so vulnerable is that they have little legal protection. China's media legislation is far from being mature; the lack of protection for journalists working to expose corruption places them in a precarious position between right and wrong. The tragedy of Jiang Weiping is not merely his own, but belongs to an entire generation of journalists.
It won't be possible for the state to be free and stable without different voices. It won't be possible to rid the unheard voices from prison without a fair government. And it won't be possible for more such voices to be heard without a harmonious political environment. What is needed by the journalists of tomorrow is a guarantee of their right to speak.
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