Artikel,
Media Earthquake
Wall Street Journal Asia, (20080527)
Zusammenfassung
One of the more remarkable aspects of the aftermath of the May 12
Sichuan earthquake is how much the Chinese people know about it.
The true extent of the Great Tangshan Earthquake of 1976 was hidden
from the nation and the world, despite the loss of 250,000 lives.
Other natural disasters traditionally have also been shrouded in
secrecy -- from seasonal flooding to SARS. In contrast, information
about -- and images of -- the earthquake area have been saturating
Chinese media, and may even be helping to shape the official response.
Make no mistake, official media are still center stage. Readers and
television viewers have been treated to the usual media-propaganda
hymns about party leaders giving it their teary all, and about the
rugged heroism of the People's Liberation Army. And we can safely
suppose there are many stories that are still not being told.
But China's new generation of metropolitan newspapers, current affairs
magazines and Internet media have all reported on the quake with
an intensity and professionalism that has not been possible in the
past, when stories were banned outright or media were instructed
to use only pre-approved releases from the official Xinhua News Agency.
Hundreds of Chinese reporters have filed stories from the front lines
of the rescue and relief effort in Sichuan. Students and volunteers
have blogged their eyewitness accounts. Web portals have aggregated
quake-related content, opening up topical pages, offering online
slideshows and video. Chat rooms have hummed with activity. And media,
new and traditional alike, have teemed with suggestions, cautions,
calls and criticisms from Chinese of all walks of life.
This is possible, in part, because Chinese media have undergone important
changes over the last decade. Once solely supported by the state,
media have moved progressively into a more open marketplace where
they must compete fiercely for audiences and ad revenues. This means
they answer increasingly to readers, even as they are still ultimately
accountable to party leaders. China's vital and growing media industry
has also fostered a growing sense of professionalism among journalists,
who see themselves less and less as mere pawns of the state press
apparatus.
The power of the Internet and new media has coalesced with the trends
of professionalism and media commercialization to create a force
China's leaders find increasingly difficult to control. And this
is why, when top leaders experimented with a more open approach to
information after the Sichuan earthquake, the flood gates were opened.
Within days of the quake, domestic media and ordinary Internet users
were asking tougher questions. Why hadn't earthquake experts given
earlier warning of a possible quake? Was such a warning possible?
When it became apparent that school buildings had been especially
prone to collapse, the spotlight turned on the question of shoddy
construction and official corruption. A story in Guangdong's Nandu
Weekly reported on the anger and bitterness of parents in town of
Dujiangyan: "What infuriates parents is that the teachers' offices
did not collapse, but rather it was the classrooms. They are convinced
that shoddy construction is to blame. 'I looked at the steel reinforcements
used for the school building,' said parent Hu Hua, 'and they were
so thin, as thin as my finger.'"
New media openness, such as it is, has also forced the government
to rethink its response to the disaster. State leaders who are accustomed
to public opinion as something to be "guided" and shaped through
the careful control of information, have found themselves responding
to messages from the public.
Confronting ongoing criticism of shoddy school construction, the government
announced that it would conduct a thorough inquiry. Three days after
the quake, as Beijing waffled on whether to accept foreign assistance,
a lawyer from Guangzhou wrote in his local newspaper: "Faced with
this disaster, I think China's government should put the lives of
the people before anything else, mustering all resources available,
both domestic and foreign. Opening our doors to international assistance
would dramatically help the relief effort." It became a common refrain
among many writers. Partly in response to such public pressure, Japanese
rescue crews were allowed into the country on May 16, followed by
teams from Russia and Taiwan.
Many Chinese also urged the suspension of the Olympic torch relay,
which has become a potent symbol of national pride here, in order
to respect disaster victims and focus energy and resources on the
relief effort. Writing in the popular Caijing magazine, which publishes
special reports from this newspaper on occasion, columnist Huang
Fuping said the relay should be suspended üntil definite progress
is made in the rescue and relief effort." Facing a surge of similar
public sentiment, China's government announced the suspension of
the torch relay on May 18 and the commencement of three days of national
mourning.
The changes we have seen over the past two weeks most probably do
not mark a fundamental new direction in the handling of information
in China. They do not suggest that China's Central Publicity Department
will make a hasty retreat from the daily politics of media in China.
The CCP's regime of media controls -- and the notion of political
"guidance" that has reigned since the silent aftermath of Tiananmen
-- is not likely to crumble in one swift moment of truth.
But, however imperfect, the landmarks of openness witnessed so far
in the handling of this tragedy could go far in convincing Party
leaders that the benefits of openness far outweigh the costs -- that
what they may relinquish in terms of control, they gain in legitimacy
and trust.
Mr. Bandurski is a researcher at the University of Hong Kong's China
Media Project.
