MCLC: Murong Xuecun on internet censorship

[Denton, Kirk]

MCLC LIST
From: kirk (denton.2 at osu.edu)
Subject: Murong Xuecun on internet censorship
***********************************************************

Source: The Guardian (5/15/13):
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2013/may/15/chinese-internet-censorship-cam
paign

Chinese internet: 'a new censorship campaign has commenced'
Murong Xuecun, who has had his accounts deleted, explains how bloggers
compare being silenced on the internet to being put to death

On 9 May, I posted the following message on Sina Weibo:

"The account you have been managing for years can be deleted in a second.
Then you try to plot its reincarnation by writing every word from scratch.
The house you have been building all your life can be bulldozed in a
moment. Then you try to rise from its rubble by picking up every piece of
brick and tile.

"This is my Chinese dream: harbour no illusion about the evil powers, and
understand that their evil will only grow.
"Be not depressed or desperate, however: start from zero, from minus, from
rubble, and grow with resilience."

These words are the reflection of my true feelings. Not long ago, scholar
Zhang Xuezhong, Xiao Xuehui, Song Shinan and lawyer Si Weijiang all saw
their Weibo accounts deleted. They each had large numbers of followers,
who spread their words to an even wider audience. But all of a sudden
their names have disappeared. Nobody knows why, or who ordered it, but we
all know that a new round of acensorship
<http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/censorship> campaign has commenced. As in
1957, 1966 and 1989, Chinese intellectuals are feeling more or less the
same fear as one does before an approaching mountain storm: the scariest
thing of all is not being silenced or being sent to prison; it is the
sense of powerlessness and uncertainty about what comes next. There is no
procedure, no standard, and not a single explanation. It's as if you are
walking into a minefield blindfolded. Not knowing where the mines are
buried, you don't know when you will be blasted to pieces.

Two days later, at 10pm on 11 May, my Weibo accounts with Sina, Tencent,
NetEase, and Sohu were deleted simultaneously. When the web staff from
these sites got in touch with me several minutes later, they told me more
or less the same story: they were following an order from a "superior
department", whose identity they could not reveal because of a
confidentiality agreement. In fact, such departments are as numerous as
hairs on an ox: State Council Information Office, StateInternet
Information Office, Propaganda Department, Public Security Bureau, the
secretary of a dignitary … Almost every department and dignitary can order
internet companies to delete information and accounts while they
themselves hide in the dark. Seeing speeches that trigger their ire, they
can make them disappear for ever by simply picking up the telephone
receiver.

I am mentally prepared for such things to happen, but when they do, I
still feel dismayed and angry. I am a "big V" [verified user] on Weibo,
possessing over 8.5m followers across the four web portals, and 3.96m in
Sina alone. In a period of over three years, I had posted more than 1,900
Weibo messages totalling more than 200,000 words, each written with
deliberation and care. In a split second, however, they were all brought
to naught.

I can only guess the reasons. It could be my criticism toward a secret
directive called the "seven-no" policy. Just in the previous day, several
people confirmed a directive issued by a certain department of the
government or the Communist party, which listed seven topics that are not
supposed to be mentioned by university teachers: universal values, press
freedom, civil society, civil rights, historic errors of the Communist
party, the class of crony capitalists, and judicial independence. Soon,
the Hong Kong newspaper Ta Kung Pao, known for its pro-Communist stance,
ran a report on the same subject.

"The 'seven no's' can actually be summed into one," I wrote on my Weibo
page, " 'Don't be civil.' " Perhaps someone was offended by this sentence.

Another possibility concerns the "He Bing incident." He Bing is a
professor at Chinese University of Political Science and Law, and has over
430,000 followers on Sina Weibo. According to an announcement issued by
Xinhua on 10 May, he has been silenced by the State Internet Information
Office for "purposely spreading rumours." He wrote a statement responding
to this accusation, arguing that the issuance of the punishment did not
follow standard administrative procedure, and declaring that he was
preparing to file a lawsuit. He asked me to help him retweet the
statement. I tried five times, and saw the message censored each time. The
next night, I posted a message on Weibo, asking the State Internet
Information Office to answer the following questions: Who gives you the
power to deprive citizens of their right to free speech? What are the
relevant legal standards and procedures for identifying rumours? On what
basis do you accuse He Bing of spreading rumours? Why do you repeatedly
delete He's statement? Why would you not allow him to defend himself? As
one can imagine, the State Internet Information Office is not interested
in answering my questions. In 20 minutes, all my Weibo accounts were
deleted.

These are only my guesses. In fact, silencing a person requires no reason
at all. As most Chinese know, our country has a blacklist. Having your
name appear there turns you into the enemy of the country and the people.
Your articles cannot be published, and your name cannot be mentioned.
Whatever you do or say – even a simple "Hello" – will get deleted in no
time.
Many people have expressed indignation on my behalf. Some held virtual
candle vigils and "memorial services" for me on their Weibo pages, while
other protested by boycotting Weibo. People started quoting words I wrote
during my "lifetime", which populated Weibo in the dozen of hours
following my disappearance. Quickly, "Murong Xuecun" became the most
searched words on Weibo.

In fact, such incidents do not make news in China
<http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/china>, for people have long been inured
to them. Individuals are silenced on daily basis, and the pool of
sensitive words grows by the hour: Liu Xiaobo, Gao Xingjian, Ai Weiwei,
Wei Jingsheng, Liao Yiwu, Ma Jian, Mo Zhixu, Xiao Shu … The list goes on.
It now includes me, as well as two more scholars who have since been
silenced: Wu Wei and Wu Zuolai, whose accounts were deleted on the morning
of 13 May. Lurking in the shadows, the "relevant organs" carry out such
work as part of their daily routine, and expect people to remain silent.
They have perhaps failed to foresee that in the age of Weibo, their
actions could trigger such a severe backlash. To this, they responded with
more censorship.

Netizens often compare being silenced on the Chinese internet to being put
to death, and registering a new account is likened to reincarnation. Most
Weibo users are familiar with the term "the Reincarnation party". It has
come to symbolise people's resistance and struggle against censors. Every
member of the party shares the same experience: being killed, and
reincarnated; killed again, reincarnated again. Xiao Han, a teacher at
Chinese University of Political Science and Law and a friend of mine, has
reincarnated 212 times. Journalist Yang Haipeng started a game after many
reincarnations by registering himself under the names of the 108 heroes in
the novel Outlaws of the Marsh, one at a time. He started with Song Jiang,
followed by Lu Junyi. Now he is Fei Xuan, hero No 47. The record-holder is
a user named "Repair." As of 13 May, she has reincarnated 418 times. If
she is unable to use that name, she will become "Re-pair", "Repare" or
"ReIpair".

I reincarnated on the night of 12 May, under the new name "Pingyuan
Dongfang Shuo," who was a famous minister during the Han dynasty. The
first thing I did after reincarnation was to post a thank-you note to the
individuals who spoke out for me. The next was to express my opinion
toward the statement [reportedly made by Xi Jinping] that "Repudiating Mao
would have led to national chaos".

"The evaluation of historic figures should be based on facts. Their merits
deserve praise and their crimes warrant criticism," I wrote. "Forbidding
repudiation means avoiding, hiding and falsifying certain facts. It is
both a blasphemy against history and a violation of intellectual freedom.
The truth has no agenda, but it can enlighten our eyes and illuminate our
minds. Lu Xun once wrote an essay titled "On Opening Your Eyes to See". If
our right to repudiate is denied, the article should instead be called "On
Closing Your Eyes to Fabricate".

In my third message, I retweeted an essay from another web user, which
discussed the methods people can adopt to protect their rights when the
police knock on their doors. I do not know what was wrong with these
messages. In just 10 minutes, my account was annihilated, a tragedy that
was followed, of course, by more candles and memorial services.

My next reincarnation is going to be more difficult. The Chinese
government makes sure its internet technology keeps pace with the times,
which leaves me effectively no loophole to exploit. On the morning of 13
May, I attempted to re-register on Weibo, and after an hour of typing
almost 30 versions of verification codes, I still couldn't get registered.
My IP address, which is static, has been blocked. Registering a new
account would require a verification code to be sent to a mobile number. I
have only one mobile phone, which has similarly been blocked.

A friend once asked me what it felt like to be silenced. "It's as if you
were chatting and laughing with friends in a brilliantly lit house, when
you suddenly fell into a dark pit," I told him. "You yell at the top of
your lungs, but no one can hear you. You struggle to get out, but only
sink deeper." I also need to console those who love me, and let them know
everything is fine. In this abyss, I am once again visited by the biting
chill of uncertainty, of not knowing what will come next. I am not as
prepared as I thought. I am still scared, but I will not stop struggling,
because I believe my silence would only embolden those who are trampling
on my rights, and will trample on the rights of others. I need to stand
bold straight and tell those in the "relevant organs": you can never take
away my rights. This abyss, I believe, will not remain dark for ever. As
long as I keep up my effort, I will eventually find a piece of flint and
kindle a tiny spark to illuminate the square inch in front of my feet.
Translated by Helen Gao