No one believes the news
Jerusha McCormack reports from China one the news industry there
Every afternoon, it lies in wait on the front desk of the Foreign Experts' Building: China Daily, the official English-language newspaper for "foreign guests". Every day we consume bracing stories about China's economic development – or sticky-sweet articles on the protection of large, furry creatures (pandas being a favourite).
But one Friday, there was no China Daily. Nor any weekend edition. "So what's up?" a long-term foreign teacher asked. We hit the internet to try to find out.
The online edition of The People's Daily in English reported nothing on Friday. On Sunday, 11 December, it reissued the edition of 6 November, as if in error. "Who are they kidding?" my companion said. The next day, it was back, with the correct date – but silent as to any alarming developments in China.
Meanwhile the email had come alive with queries. "What about these riots?" they wanted to know. What riots? To my surprise, not all internet sites were blocked. Yahoo carried a New York Times report citing riots in a small fishing village about 125 kilometres north of Hong Kong. According to its version, a small delegation protesting the state seizure of their land for a new power plant went to lodge an objection with the local council. They had been arrested. The villagers came out in protest; when they refused to disband, offering some kind of resistance, the local militia opened fire. Up to 20 were reported killed; an unknown number now missing.
The local village is now sealed off. No one can enter or leave. At last report, house-to-house searches were taking place. By these means the foreign press can be kept out, the media under control. Even CNN, now available on our televisions here, ran only sub-heads on the incident. (Without pictures, there was no television story.)
As this incident shows, the government here can control the movement of people. It can suppress media reporting within China. But what it can't control now is the new electronic traffic of mobile phones. As in the Sydney beach riots, it is the mobile phone that was used to mobilise the action. People in China who never had a land-line now have cell phones – 400 million of them. And they use them to get the news to each other, to their families and friends all over China – and to the foreign media.
During this week, we had dinner with a woman who had once reported on the Tiananmen incidents of early June, 1989, for CBS. "What do you do about reliable news?" I wanted to know.
She nearly choked on her sea slugs. "Reliable? No one believes in reliable news in China." A disdainful silence; then she relented.
"Listen: [the tone was steely] in China there are at least four levels of reporting. There are the official reports, published in the official papers. No one believes them. There are the unofficial reports. No one believes them either. Then there are rumours. These are often remarkably accurate. Or you might get a phone call or an email from someone you know. This would almost always be reliable. So you have to depend on your guanxi (translation: network) to keep you informed."
She considered the last sea slug. "In contrast to the West, we are very sophisticated about our media in China. We believe nothing that is in print, nothing on television – and little of what we hear."
The wry smile had something of triumph in it.
The official report of the 6 December riots appeared in the China Daily of 19 December, citing only three deaths.
No one believes it.