It was meant to be a tongue-in-cheek alternative to the stultifying variety show beamed into hundreds of millions of living rooms on the eve of each Lunar New Year holiday. But the program, called Shanzhai, or the “knockoff” gala, was not to be.
After television stations withdrew their promised slots, the extravaganza’s producers turned to the Internet. Those who tried to download the three-hour program on Jan. 25, however, were disappointed. The show had been quashed by censors, presumably for its mockery of a hallowed state-molded institution.
The incident has provoked howls among China’s so-called netizens, who say it is another example of the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) heavy-handed oversight of the Web. Since early last month, the government has been waging a “decency” campaign that has closed 1,500 Web sites found to contain sex, violence or “vulgarity.” Numerous other sites, including Google, have responded by removing any pages that might offend puritanical sensibilities.
But indecency is often in the eye of the beholder. Last month, Bullog, a popular bastion for freewheeling bloggers, was shut down for what the authorities said were its “large amounts of harmful information on current events,” according to a notice posted by the site’s founder, Luo Yonghao (羅永浩).
When Luo briefly resuscitated the site on Sunday using an overseas server, it was blocked again.
Many people here believe that Bullog may have crossed a line by posting information about Charter 08, a petition calling for democratic reforms. Organizers say the manifesto has garnered thousands of signatures since its introduction in December. Within the Chinese Internet firewall, it is now nearly impossible to find a copy.
While some see the month-long crackdown as a portent of increasing government restrictions on electronic expression, those who follow China’s evolving relationship with the Internet say it is too soon to tell.
“The authorities tighten the screws every few months and some periods are tighter than others, so this is nothing new,” said Xiao Qiang (蕭強), director of the China Internet Project at the University of California, Berkeley.
But the wild card this time, Xiao and others say, is an economic downturn that has the potential to put the oversight of online content to a new test.
For years, China has tried to strike a balance between allowing growth of the Web and preventing it from undermining party rule. But popular anger against official corruption or ineptitude may become harder to contain in an era of economic pain.
Despite building one of the most sophisticated Internet firewalls, China still has one of the most dynamic communities of Web users in the world. There are more than 70 million bloggers in China and last month officials said the number of Web users approached 300 million, more than that of any other country.
The Web has become a forum for public activism that would be speedily suppressed, or widely ignored, if it occurred offline. In recent months, a spate of vigilante campaigns have been waged against low-level officials accused of corruption or unseemly behavior.
In one case in December, a photograph of Zhou Jiugeng (周久耕), a Nanjing housing official, found its way onto the Web. Bloggers noticed the US$15,000 Swiss watch on his wrist and the US$22-a-pack cigarettes on the table in front of him. Two weeks later, Zhou was fired after investigators determined that he had led an improbably lavish lifestyle for a modestly salaried civil servant.