China’s online censors are broadening their focus beyond political dissent, now actively policing the public’s mood. They are punishing influential bloggers and content creators whose dispirited posts are resonating widely in a nation where optimism is increasingly strained.
Recently, authorities have taken action against two bloggers advocating for a less demanding life, an influencer who argued against marriage and children for financial reasons, and a commentator who candidly pointed out China’s lagging quality of life compared to Western nations.
These so-called cynics and skeptics, many with vast online followings, have had their accounts suspended or banned. This crackdown stems from a new two-month “cleanup” campaign by the Cyberspace Administration of China, launched in late September. Its explicit goal is to purge content that fosters “excessively pessimistic sentiment,” panic, or “defeatist narratives like ‘hard work is useless.’”
“Everyone experiences fatigue and anxiety from life and work, and these emotions deserve respect,” stated China’s state broadcaster CCTV in an editorial about the campaign. “However, they should not be intentionally amplified for traffic. The internet is not a dumping ground for negativity.”
Globally, officials discuss how to prevent social media from fueling outrage and polarization that could lead to real-world harm. China’s internet regulator justifies its campaign with similar concerns, citing messages that create gender or group-based divisions and livestreams that glorify self-harm and violence.
Yet, this Chinese crackdown carries a distinct political undertone. It underscores the leadership’s deep apprehension about widespread public malaise as the country navigates economic uncertainty, a tense rivalry with the United States, and growing disillusionment among its younger generation.
In recent years, many young people have embraced a “lying flat” philosophy, opting for a minimal existence outside the intense societal rat race, or have chosen to “let it rot” by abandoning traditional aspirations. Consequently, the accounts of two influential bloggers advocating the “lying flat” lifestyle were blocked from gaining new followers just last month.
Beijing is concerned that such pessimism doesn’t just deter citizens from being productive; it could escalate into criticism of the ruling Communist Party.
“The root cause is deteriorating economic and social prospects for many Chinese, which has led to what for any country would be a natural social response — the expression of anxiety and misgiving,” noted David Bandurski, director of the China Media Project, a research group.
“Such sentiment, the leadership worries, might be infectious,” Mr. Bandurski added.
Local governments and social media platforms have swiftly implemented the regulator’s directives.
In Zhengzhou, officials investigated two social media account owners for presenting the city in an unfavorable light. In Xi’an, the local internet regulator announced it punished five social media account holders for “spreading false information” regarding housing prices and real estate regulations.
Weibo, a prominent microblogging platform, reported last week that it suspended over 1,200 accounts for “spreading rumors” about the economy and government welfare programs.
The internet regulator has instructed platforms to eliminate posts that use isolated news events to highlight broader societal issues. This style of commentary is condemned by the authorities as “malicious misinterpretation” that fosters public cynicism.
People in China often use such posts to voice their frustrations, fears, and questions. Recent incidents, like past food safety scandals at schools, prompted residents to question the transparency and accountability of government officials. Last year, a series of random attacks on civilians, attributed to aggrieved individuals seeking “revenge on society,” sparked discussions about deep-seated inequality and mental health in contemporary China.
More recently, internet users focused on the death of Chinese actor Yu Menglong, whose body was found near a multistory building in Beijing. Authorities, citing his mother, stated he fell accidentally. However, Chinese platforms were soon flooded with unproven theories of foul play or suicide. Weibo subsequently restricted discussion about Mr. Yu and suspended over 1,500 accounts for posting related content.
Chinese state media has also portrayed the online cleanup as an effort to curb those who exploit despair for online traffic.
CCTV, the state broadcaster, warned against posts depicting a bleak outlook on Chinese life: “Parents have unfilial children. Men are surrounded by materialistic women. Women are trapped by bad men who cheat. The workplace is full of unmotivated young people.” Such narratives, it cautioned, are the work of “emotional predators” using gloomy stories to gain attention.
However, official attempts to suppress content profiting from despair may inadvertently silence genuine expressions of frustration.
“The official message of positivity clashes with an economic reality that is starkly different from previous decades,” explained Katja Drinhausen, head of Chinese politics and society at the Mercator Institute for China Studies. “Simply controlling online negative emotions won’t be enough.”
Many citizens lament stagnant wages or worry about the impact of China’s new work visa for science and engineering students on job availability for its own populace. (A record 12.2 million new graduates are entering the job market this year amidst persistently high youth unemployment.) Government initiatives to boost confidence—including expanding its social safety net, providing child subsidies, and offering consumer trade-in programs—have yielded limited results.
The social media accounts of Hu Chenfeng, an auto repairman turned influencer, who has consistently highlighted poverty and inequality in China through his videos, have been removed from multiple platforms. Propaganda officials in Zhejiang province have even accused him of “worshiping the West.”
Hu is renowned for coining a simple yet profound shorthand for China’s class divides: “Apple users versus Android users,” illustrating the chasm between the privileged and the less fortunate.
“‘Android’ is now an adjective,” he once stated in a video. “For example, an ‘Android computer’ signifies a very low-end machine. An ‘Android house’ suggests poor soundproofing, an inconvenient layout, and inadequate lighting.”
Another prominent influencer, Zhang Zibiao (known as Zhang Xuefeng online), a former tutor, was known for his argument that students from underprivileged backgrounds had minimal chances of entering elite professions like finance or medicine without the necessary social or political connections.
The crackdown also aims to curb the extensive influence of China’s major social media platforms. In September, the regulator summoned representatives from several popular platforms due to content violations.
The People’s Daily, the official mouthpiece of the Chinese Communist Party, published an editorial asserting that the campaign clarifies platforms can no longer allow pessimism to spread unchecked. “The bugle has been sounded and all parties should act accordingly,” it declared.
This report includes contributions from Pei-Lin Wu and Xinyun Wu.