Friday, August 20, 2010

Good Mourning China

At midnight on August 15, 2010, every bar, club, and restaurant in China stopped playing music, much to the dismay of foreign clientel -- some of whom were trying to celebrate their friend's birthday (ahem). All entertainment-based television channels and many websites were temporarily blacked out. In their place, a paragraph of simple white text on a dark background announced the reason:

'Dear subscribers,

To Mourn the Zhou Qu landslide victims, the State Council of the People's Republic of China has announced that August 15, 2010 will be National Mourning Day. To express our deep condolences, the relevant agencies are to suspend relay of overseas channels with limited landing rights that contain entertainment programs over the announced period. Hereby we express our gratitude for your understanding and cooperation.'

The interesting part was, the vast majority of nightlife establishments remained open and accessible, they just weren't playing music. Translation? You can go out on National Mourning Day, just don't have any fun.

Of course, upon discovering the rationale behind the blackout, we felt saddened and a little embarrassed that we had initially reacted in such a selfish manner, but as the day went on it became clear that perhaps the restrictions imposed on National Mourning Day were a little over the top. Entertainment television stations remained blocked until at least noon, at which point they switched over to non-stop CCTV coverage of the disaster and relief efforts. The hotel I was staying in had 70 TV channels, 69 of which were broadcasting identical CCP programing, while the remaining one did so in English.

News content followed a very obvious pattern as the day came to a close. First up were startling images of flooding and wreckage. By mid-afternoon, a repeating reel of government officials mourning in droves beneath flags at half mast dominated the footage. The day ended with individual stories of heroicism and ordinary citizens coming together to overcome their collective sadness. People who watched the events unfold on TV must have gone to bed satisfied, ready to put the landslide behind them and get on with their lives.

Today I find myself wondering, 'What aren't you telling me CCTV?' I can't imagine the rescue and restoration efforts are going as smoothly as we were led to believe, nor can I ignore the images that we were not shown: homeless people sleeping on muddy streets, hospitals overrun with victims of water-borne illness, anyone even mildly discontented with the way the state has proceeded. It seems like something is missing.

And with that I proclaim the benefits of a privately-owned media. While the Chinese government may have succeeded in creating a feeling of resolution among its people, it has decidedly neglected to divulge the entire truth in favor of saving face. It may be more efficient to overlook problems in this way, but it is certainly not fair to the people of Zhouqu.

再见


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