Article,
Openness on quake takes China by surprise; Unprecedented media coverage galvanizes nation's grief, pays huge propaganda dividends
The Toronto Star, (17 May 2008)
Abstract
MIANYANG, China -- By Chinese standards, it was a remarkable image.
There on national television this week was Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao
holding the hand of a tiny orphan who was weeping uncontrollably
before the cameras.
"Bie ku. Bie ku," ("Don't cry. Don't cry") the premier was saying,
adding reassuring words to indicate that somehow, soon, the situation
in earthquake-stricken China would get better.
It was part of China's wall-to-wall coverage of a catastrophe that
has gripped the nation, delivered with an openness that took many
by surprise in a country that has never been known for openness.
Chinese television, radio and newspapers - all government owned or
controlled - were given unfettered access to the front lines of the
disaster, beaming back on-the-spot reports of death, despair and
rescue, replete with images that astonished and tugged at the heart.
Yet more than 30 years ago, when the Tangshan earthquake hit China,
there was only a brief announcement.
Thereafter, somewhere between 276,000 and 650,000 people died.
Information at the time was so tightly controlled that the true number
of dead is still not known.
And the control was all the more brazen given that the Tangshan tragedy
unfolded - not in some remote outpost - but just 120 kilometres from
the capital Beijing.
But ever since the Wenchuan earthquake struck Monday at 2: 28 p.m.
in southwest China's Sichuan province, Chinese television has overflowed
with coverage of the drama in unprecedented fashion.
A mother, eight months pregnant, was pulled to safety live before
the cameras. Dramatic footage showing airborne military parachuting
into the epicentre of the quake was aired on newscasts.
And montages of still photographs showing the unfolding drama in all
of its tragic detail were set to music and aired repeatedly.
"We knew very little about it when the devastating earthquake struck
Tangshan," Chinese sociologist Zheng Yefu wrote in Southern Metropolis
newspaper this week - which published an array of messages on the
quake from some of China's leading lights.
But this time it was different, Zheng said. "We saw something new
compared to any past disasters," he said, "the general public is
well informed."
Journalism Professor Zhan Jiang agreed: "We didn't know that hundreds
of thousands passed away during the Tangshan earthquake in 1976 until
many years after."
After the past week's events, "we've learned a lot about the universal
value of humanitarianism."
Earlier in the week, Chinese historian He Shaowu opined that it had
been "ridiculous for China not to accept foreign aid during the Tangshan
earthquake 30 years ago.
"We shouldn't repeat that."
By week's end, China had opened its doors to foreign aid and technicians
- even from Taiwan and Japan, countries with which it has had testy
relations at best.
Greater media access not only galvanized the grief of a nation, it
paid a massive propaganda dividend - both for relief efforts and
for the government.
"By putting all of these initiatives on TV and all over the media,
this tragedy has helped the government win much support and pull
the nation together," observed Professor Dali Yang of the University
of Singapore's East Asia Institute. "Internationally, this will soften
China's image and win the government some sympathy," he said.
Across China, people responded to the media blitz by fundraising and
sending food, medical aid and messages of support.
"Timely information helps disaster relief work," columnist Lian Yue
wrote. "It helps us to become compassionate and helps boost our national
image."
Proof was on the ground.
People took their lead from televised images of Premier Wen, who seemed
to be everywhere at all hours - loud hailer in hand, offering encouragement
to those who were trapped and those who were trying to save them.
Many of these events were clearly staged. But they had their intended
impact.
In hard-hit places like Mianyang, citizen volunteers like Xie Bin
and her 16-year-old son Yang Wang wanted sleep, but they couldn't,
they said, knowing the premier himself was in their community.
They turned up at a tent city outside Mianyang to cook and distribute
meals for survivors, even as tremors continued to ripple through
the city.
"We saw our great premier on TV," Xie said, änd we realized this
is a very serious situation. Some of the people here haven't eaten
for days. All they have is the clothes on their backs."
Nearby, a constant trickle of individuals carried bags of clean clothing,
depositing them on a growing mountain of donated clothing,
At Mianyang, Buddhist monks and nuns from Guanyin Temple arrived with
75 kilograms of cooked rice and vegetables to help feed their Han
brothers and sisters.
Adherent Li Shi Pei told the Star, "There are so many victims here
who don't have anything to eat and we feel sad for them.
"In Buddhism we believe that you are to treat people with kindness."
And what goes around, comes around, as the expression goes: while
the extent of the Tangshan tragedy was largely covered up in 1976,
the people of Tangshan have not forgotten the generosity that was
shown to them.
This week, a small group of survivors travelled more than 20 hours
by train and four hours by bus to find their way to the scene of
the earthquake.
Jia Fengyun, 64, led 11 villagers to Chengdu, with little fanfare,
hoping to help with relief work in the affected areas. He and seven
others in the group are Tangshan survivors.
Jia said they had received help at the time. Now, they want to give
back. Yesterday afternoon they were headed to Mianzhu to assist in
relief work.
1058019-717817.jpg | NIR ELIAS reuters Sichuan province earthquake
survivors are led on a nine-hour trek from devastated Qingping to
the neighbouring village of Hanwang yesterday. | ;
Document TOR0000020080517e45h0004b
