The romance between Gu Hai (顧海) and Bai Luoyin (白洛因), two handsome gay senior high school students from the Web series Addiction (上癮), has caused a sensation in both China and Taiwan.
The program was seen by 10 million viewers on the day of its release in January, setting a new record for China’s television industry and was the most watched show on China’s leading video streaming sites. Netizens on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, it seemed, had become addicted to Addiction.
Then the Chinese government shut the series down.
Photo: Reuters
Early this month, Beijing issued new guidelines for television just a week after the popular gay-themed drama was pulled, banning them from including storylines involving homosexuality and other “vulgar, immoral and unhealthy” content that “exaggerates the dark side of society.”
The disappearance of the series late last month, which triggered an uproar on social media, displays “Chinese authorities’ distinct discomfort regarding homosexuality,” Time magazine reported. Such discomfort is also reflected in China’s handling of The Secret Emotional Life of Zhou Enlai (周恩來的秘密情感世界), a new book about the late Chinese premier Zhou Enlai (周恩來).
WAS ZHOU ENLAI GAY?
Photo courtesy of men’s uno Taiwan
When the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) defeated the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in 1949, Zhou became the first premier of the People’s Republic of China, holding the post until his death in 1976. Charming, gentle and sophisticated in public, he presented a modern face as the country’s second most powerful man, serving as a role model for a “new China.”
But a new book, Secret, says that he may have been gay.
“Zhou Enlai was a tragic figure. He was very famous and always under the media spotlight,” the book’s author Tsoi Wing-mui (蔡詠梅) told BBC News. “But there were many aspects of his life that were like riddles and difficult to explain.”
Tsoi’s hypothesis is based on Zhou’s diary entries and personal letters, alleging that he harbored a lifelong love for a schoolmate, and that his sexual orientation would perfectly explain some “mysteries” about his life.
Tsoi said these mysteries include Zhou’s coldness toward his wife Deng Yingchao (鄧穎超), a former chairwoman of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, in a “marriage of convenience” that benefited their political purposes.
It also helps to explain his absolute obedience to Mao Zedong (毛澤東), who may have threatened to reveal his secret. After all, Tsoi stressed, homosexuality was seen as a sin against socialism because the communists, somewhat oddly, labeled it “a capitalist way of life.”
Unsurprisingly, Tsoi’s book has been banned in China. Hong Kong entertainer Wong He (王喜) was even cut from a CCTV variety show after he shared on Facebook an article about the book.
The bans on the popular drama and new book make it clear that China has yet to accept homosexuality. Indeed, the Chinese government did not decriminalize gay sex until 1997, and homosexuality was classified until 2001 as a “psychiatric disorder.” The world’s largest country by population has no openly gay politician because that would be political suicide.
LGBT CENSORSHIP
Beijing likes to show its strength through authoritarian gestures, but censorship on homosexuality, like many other human rights issues, merely shows its fear and causes considerable anger among its population.
Shanghai Pride (上海驕傲節) spokesman Matthew Baren recently said that while it is “disappointing” that Addiction has disappeared, “it’s very encouraging to see shows about homosexuality being made in China, by Chinese talent and for Chinese audiences.”
Though it was reported last week that a gay-themed variety show has been rejected by several TV stations due to the sensitivity of the issues it would tackle, Taiwan is considered relatively friendly to the LGBT community and can play a progressive role. By offering greater protection of LGBT rights, it can distinguish itself by upholding the universal value of human rights and set a good example for less progressive societies.
It’s a good thing that 2025 is over. Yes, I fully expect we will look back on the year with nostalgia, once we have experienced this year and 2027. Traditionally at New Years much discourse is devoted to discussing what happened the previous year. Let’s have a look at what didn’t happen. Many bad things did not happen. The People’s Republic of China (PRC) did not attack Taiwan. We didn’t have a massive, destructive earthquake or drought. We didn’t have a major human pandemic. No widespread unemployment or other destructive social events. Nothing serious was done about Taiwan’s swelling birth rate catastrophe.
Words of the Year are not just interesting, they are telling. They are language and attitude barometers that measure what a country sees as important. The trending vocabulary around AI last year reveals a stark divergence in what each society notices and responds to the technological shift. For the Anglosphere it’s fatigue. For China it’s ambition. For Taiwan, it’s pragmatic vigilance. In Taiwan’s annual “representative character” vote, “recall” (罷) took the top spot with over 15,000 votes, followed closely by “scam” (詐). While “recall” speaks to the island’s partisan deadlock — a year defined by legislative recall campaigns and a public exhausted
In the 2010s, the Communist Party of China (CCP) began cracking down on Christian churches. Media reports said at the time that various versions of Protestant Christianity were likely the fastest growing religions in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The crackdown was part of a campaign that in turn was part of a larger movement to bring religion under party control. For the Protestant churches, “the government’s aim has been to force all churches into the state-controlled organization,” according to a 2023 article in Christianity Today. That piece was centered on Wang Yi (王怡), the fiery, charismatic pastor of the
Hsu Pu-liao (許不了) never lived to see the premiere of his most successful film, The Clown and the Swan (小丑與天鵝, 1985). The movie, which starred Hsu, the “Taiwanese Charlie Chaplin,” outgrossed Jackie Chan’s Heart of Dragon (龍的心), earning NT$9.2 million at the local box office. Forty years after its premiere, the film has become the Taiwan Film and Audiovisual Institute’s (TFAI) 100th restoration. “It is the only one of Hsu’s films whose original negative survived,” says director Kevin Chu (朱延平), one of Taiwan’s most commercially successful