<http://online.wsj.com/article_print/0,,SB110671549118636405,00.html> The Wall Street Journal January 26, 2005 COMMENTARY Cracks in the Chinese Wall By EMILY PARKER January 26, 2005 China's leaders may have convinced themselves that the country's relatively new, albeit unbalanced, material prosperity will be enough to keep an uneasy population from peering into some of the darker corners of the country's Communist history. And the popular reaction (or lack thereof) to purged former leader Zhao Ziyang's death last week appears to prove them right at first glance. The relative tranquility does make it appear as if young Chinese, intoxicated by the opportunities of China's dizzying economic growth, don't really understand -- or care -- about what really happened at Tiananmen Square in 1989, or why Zhao's sympathies with the student protesters led to his downfall. But that is not exactly the case. Increased access to information through the Internet, which is just one of the many fruits of China's development, is producing a predicament for China's leadership. China's pragmatic leaders undoubtedly saw allowing widespread access to the Internet as necessary for growth, but hoped to rein in its power by using firewalls to block "unsavory" information. But the Internet has only endowed citizens with a heightened awareness of the amount of information that is being blocked. When Zhao died last week, his passing was mostly observed in silence. State media played down the death, if it was reported at all, and relevant Web sites were often either sterilized or blocked entirely. But some Chinese, rather than quietly observe the systematic blockage of news, turned to the few tools at their disposal, and used the Internet to both obtain and spread information. The Internet, in fact, served as a forum for Chinese to congregate and express their mourning or, more often, frustration. While many Chinese went online to pay their respects to Zhao, the anger and sadness on these sites often had little to do with the man who died. Comments extracted and translated from discussions on mainland-accessible Chinese-language Web sites in the days following Zhao's death showcase a collective lament for the limits on freedom of information in China today. These voices aren't necessarily those of dissidents in exile, or intellectuals, or even citizens who are particularly politically minded. Rather, they are the voices of ordinary Chinese who, after having reaped the fruits of greater access to information, are only more aware of the freedoms of which they are still deprived. One particularly telling message, posted on a mainland-accessible Chinese language Web site shortly after Zhao's death, sheds light on a mainlander's journey to learn the truth: "In 1989 I was only seven years old, I only have a fuzzy impression of what happened that year, as for Zhao, I don't have a very detailed understanding. . . But today, while I was eating, my grandmother said, "Zhao Ziyang died, why isn't the news or the papers reporting it?" I was curious, so I went searching on the Internet, but I found that I couldn't open many Web sites, which made me think something was strange. It was extremely difficult to even find this Web site, but after reading it, I was shocked. . . I now can't help but feel worried about the future of our country." Indeed, the sudden media silence after Zhao's death only caused many to realize that something was seriously wrong. "I'm too young, I don't understand the reasons or the results, I pay a silent tribute. This morning I couldn't connect to any overseas Web sites, and I realized that something had happened. What I really don't understand is . . . [why it's necessary to put so much effort into] blocking all overseas Web sites, it's as though they have a guilty conscience." Another said, "I live in Guangzhou, and that night I wasn't able to access two Hong Kong TV stations, so I realized immediately that something major had happened, it turns out that general secretary Zhao had died! . . . In this era, how much longer can you block information?" Anger was a common sentiment online: "Today I heard from a friend that secretary Zhao had died, I felt shocked, but what made me even more furious was [the government's] conduct. People can't forget history. . . I'm really furious!" Some cybernauts said they weren't even clear on Zhao's contribution, but were nonetheless indignant at attempts to sweep under the rug the death of a man who played such an important historical role. "Putting aside Zhao's merits and faults for the time being, we have already completely lost the right to speak, and to hear about him! What kind of world is this?" Another writer used the occasion of Zhao's death to issue a warning: "Our party blocked information on the Internet. . . and didn't allow freedom of speech. . . The party did the same thing during SARS, what was the result then?" Other netizens, as if in direct response to the pervasive stereotype that younger Chinese are ignorant or indifferent about their country's history, stepped up to act as representatives for their generation: "Under Communist Party tutelage, there aren't many young people who remember Zhao. Please allow me to represent young people by saying: . . . 'The people won't forget you, history won't forget you!'" Another appealed to other netizens to uncover the truth: "I still don't really understand, because in '89 I was only four years old, can someone senior to me please let me know what happened in that year? What is the truth? Thank you." These Web sites were not simply a forum for expressing grievances. They served another important function as well: They acted as road maps to direct curious Chinese to news sources, while creating a bridge between Chinese who were hungry for information, and those who know where to find it. In this way, the Internet links a community, just as it does elsewhere in the world for people with shared interests. In China the shared interest broke through the government's wall of silence. Someone would plead: "Is there anywhere that has a detailed report [on Zhao]? A lot of Web sites are blocked!" and those in the know would post Web addresses -- or links -- of sites that were still accessible. Others would list which mainland-accessible search engines were the most useful for getting information about Zhao, and which ones were useless. One writer, perhaps frustrated by previous encounters with blocked or "edited" Web sites, upon discovering one forthright discussion on Zhao's death, commented, "Is [this site] the last place for free expression?" Amongst all others, I found this question particularly poignant: Although the discussion thread the writer was referring to did manage to avoid censors for a whole week after Zhao's death, when I tried to open it from Hong Kong yesterday, it appeared to have vanished. The silver lining, however, is that other sites will just crop up in its place. And savvy Chinese netizens will only figure out new ways to obtain and spread information within the limited freedoms that the Internet provides. China's leaders may hope that prosperity will help justify maintaining a wall to block information. But the cracks are beginning to show. Amidst all the sadness and frustration expressed online, there was one ray of hope: "Thank you, Internet, for giving us one last place to speak!" Ms. Parker is an editorial page writer at The Asian Wall Street Journal. -- ----------------- R. A. Hettinga <mailto: rah@ibuc.com> The Internet Bearer Underwriting Corporation <http://www.ibuc.com/> 44 Farquhar Street, Boston, MA 02131 USA "... however it may deserve respect for its usefulness and antiquity, [predicting the end of the world] has not been found agreeable to experience." -- Edward Gibbon, 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'