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Chinese Web users are using video spoofs in an attempt to reclaim expressive space in Chinese–language cyberspace. In a manner reminiscent of shunkouliu (humorous rhyming ditties), that circulated particularly widely during the late twentieth century, video spoofs are being used to express discontent with a range of government policy and political and social issues while using a veil of humour to obfuscate the target of the satire. The spread of these videos and the ideas they express have consequently caused changes to Chinese Internet regulations. In this respect, these videos can be understood in terms of James C. Scott’s weapons of the weak and Václav Havel’s power of the powerless.Contents
Introduction
Weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
Shunkouliu as weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
Hu Ge’s influence on spoofing: Beginnings of audiovisual shunkouliu
Grass Mud Horse videos: A brief introduction
Spoof videos as weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
Conclusion
Chinese Web users with varying degrees of technological skills are using the filmic medium of spoof video (e gao shipin) to lampoon both social and political problems experienced by citizens and express frustration with the state–run media (such as China Central Television) and with Chinese government policy. This means of expression is also used to publicize the commentators’ opinions on international politics and current affairs. According to Henry Li (2009a), these videos have become a “liberating force” for Chinese as they ironically invert figures of authority past and present. For the producers of spoof video, the most potent criticism is reserved for those things that concern them directly. In amateur filmmaker Hu Ge’s case, his displeasure at having seen a poor film led to the creation of his spoof, the wide appeal of which was due to an admiration for the quality of the spoof and its mockery of the Chinese media. Second, the Grass Mud Horse, a homonymic pun on ‘fuck your mother’ and subsequently invested with multiple layers of meaning, was employed as a means to mock state agents who interfere with the freedom to use the Internet as a tool of entertainment and relatively free expression, regardless of the baseness of that expression. This shows that Internet users generally choose to engage in political commentary chiefly when their own interests are threatened. Chinese Internet users create and share spoof videos in a manner reminiscent of shunkouliu, a form of satirical melodic verse. Like shunkouliu, spoof videos are used to express discontent, challenge established social and cultural power structures, and to find release through humour. Accordingly, spoof videos can be examined in terms of James C. Scott’s weapons of the weak and Václav Havel’s power of the powerless.
Weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
Weapons of the weak and the power of the powerless are means by which individuals in a subjugated position in a social structure resist that structure and attempt to reclaim power for themselves. Although the two terms sound similar, they are not exactly the same. According to James Scott (1985), weapons of the weak are everyday forms of resistance to struggle against those who extract labour, food, taxes, and interest from them. Scott illustrates how the weapon of minimal compliance works by arguing that when poor villagers come to the feast of a rich villager, they stay only long enough to eat quickly then leave feigning compliance with local custom, but subverting it and obtaining personal gain (Scott, 1985).
Key to weapons of the weak is the difference between “public transcript” and “hidden transcript.” Public transcript is a description of the “open interaction between subordinates and those who dominate” (Scott, 1990). Hidden transcript refers to discourse that takes place beyond direct observation by powerholders and consists of “practices that confirm, contradict or inflect what appears in the public transcript” (Scott, 1990). Scott (1990) illustrates this difference by using the example of a normally taciturn slave cook in the antebellum U.S. South who watches her daughter beaten by her master before sharing a torrent of rage with a trusted companion. Subordinates thus draw power from the content of hidden transcript. Scott (1985) shows that, while subordinates are openly demeaned, powerholders are demeaned behind their backs and cannot escape symbolic sanctions such as slander, gossip and character assassination. These symbolic attacks are at the heart of weapons of the weak. Chinese video spoofers use their chosen medium to make similar symbolic attacks that are hidden behind a veil of humour and contestable meaning.
Where weapons of the weak are forms of everyday existence, the power of the powerless is a means of combating a state censorship. Václav Havel (1985) illustrates his concept through the example of the greengrocer who places a sign exclaiming “Workers of the world, unite!” in his shop window not because he believes in the slogan but because he is afraid of the consequences of not complying with the regime. He goes on to explain that individuals who accept the false claims of an authoritarian government as truth by accepting life with those claims — for example the disguising of the arbitrary abuse of power as observance of a legal code — are “living within a lie” (Havel, 1985) [1]. This situation mirrors that of the Chinese Web, where most Web users choose to not challenge officially created versions of historical and current events that are protected through censorship, for example the obliteration of the 4 June 1989 massacre in Tiananmen Square. In terms of creating its own history, the regime maintains its power over the people from their willingness to “live within a lie” and not challenge it.
Contrarily the powerless can draw power from a denial of that lie and by refusing to participate in the activities that enable it to propagate itself. This is what Havel (1985) terms “living within truth.” He explains that living within truth includes actions as diverse as refusing to participate in farcical elections, attending concerts that feature music not approved by the regime, and actively challenging it through public discourse (Havel, 1985). This power does not necessarily result in regime change but can exert an influence over society. To illustrate, Havel (1985) uses the example of the Polish ‘Flying University.’ [2] Although ‘flying teachers’ were detained by police, by offering subjects that had previously been taboo they caused official universities to respond in kind (Havel, 1985). Both shunkouliu and video spoofs enable individuals to live within truth for a short period of time, by enabling the people who create and share them to express their true understanding and opinions about given social and political issues of the day. In this regard expression about politics, society and culture that might otherwise lie hidden is given voice.
Shunkouliu as weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
Shunkouliu are humorous ditties that poke fun at a variety of ills of Chinese society in rhyme. While the tradition has its roots in early twentieth century rhymes describing life from a peasant’s point of view, satiric shunkouliu appeared as early as the Great Leap Forward (Link and Zhou, 2002). Perry Link and Kate Zhou (2002) have written that the 1980s and 1990s proved an ideal time for the wide circulation of shunkouliu targeting dissatisfaction with corruption and social ills as people took advantage of the relative relaxation of repression of everyday speech to invent and share shunkouliu as a way of illustrating what bothered them. Similarly, the themes of video spoofing take aim at social and cultural objects to which the spoofers object, or wish to criticise.
Importantly, although shunkouliu are not generally published in the official media, the official media plays an important role in the spread and continued popularity of this expressive form. Link and Zhou (2002) describe how the reach of central media, especially during the Mao years, was so exhaustive and the content so unitary, that most of the population knew certain phrases and sentences word–for–word. Therefore, the phraseology of the CCP used in the media became a target for satire. Although Bingchun Meng (2011) claims that only e gao (satire) such as video spoofing directly appropriates official media content, this ignores the way in which this content is employed. Video spoofers, like Hu Ge (discussed below) change the content they appropriate to suit their own needs. Similarly the creators of shunkouliu appropriate official terminology and phraseology and bend it to their will to make a dissident point. Although their respective media are different, both shunkouliu and spoof videos make parasitic use of well-known and widely consumed media products to enhance their own popularity.
Humour plays an important role in shunkouliu. Link and Zhou (2002) write that most examples in their study of shunkouliu of the 1990s are political or social satire and comment that the “humour in shunkouliu not only serves to lighten people’s spirits but also could have a certain protective aspect because the sting of criticism was lessened by its presentation in joke form.” Protection was also offered by the untraceable nature of this oral form, which meant that no specific individual could be identified as the specific creator (Link and Zhou, 2002). This situation shares certain similarities with the creators of video satire who are also afforded a degree of protection through humour.
Link and Zhou (2002) believe that shunkouliu resemble Scott’s hidden transcripts of popular thought and sentiment because the government bans harder–hitting examples yet collects “and circulates them in classified reports designed to let officials know what the people are really thinking.” The way that shunkouliu act as a form of expression indicate that they are a means of reclaiming power and of social levelling in a tightly controlled media environment and that they enable the speaker to claim the right to judge the state and its representatives (Link and Zhou, 2002). The government reaction to them in this regard is equally as telling. Link and Zhou report that in November 1982 the People’s Daily published an article titled “Don’t Make up Irresponsible Shunkouliu,” which they use to question whether shunkouliu are useful as an emotional “steam–valve” and whether the Chinese Communist Party is worried about the long–term effects of sarcasm (Link and Zhou, 2002). This attempt to control shunkouliu suggests that the CCP has been worried about the use of shunkouliu as a means of empowerment by subverting the messages published in the official media; thus they function as a weapon of the weak. More provocative shunkouliu might be considered as power of the powerless because they have forced a direct response in the official media in the form of the 1982 article, similar to the response of Polish universities elicited by the pressure exerted by the Flying University.
In this regard video spoofing plays a similar role. By taking advantage of online space that has relatively unrestricted access, video spoofs enable their creators to undermine cultural and social targets that dominate the traditional media and thus reclaim a voice for the audience in the cultural arena. An example of this is Hu Ge’s A Murder caused by a Mantou, or The Bloody Case of the Steamed Bun (yige mantou yinfa de xue’an), which reworked Chen Kaige’s The Promise, discussed below. Furthermore, more provocative examples have caused changes to Chinese legislation governing Web content, such as the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television’s (SARFT) introduction of “Online Audiovisual Broadcasting Licenses” in 2007 and strengthened regulation of online video content in 2009 (Meng, 2009) [3].
Hu Ge’s influence on spoofing: Beginnings of audiovisual shunkouliu
Chinese video satire first came to widespread domestic and international attention with the popularisation of the video A Murder caused by a Mantou, hereafter known as Mantou. Hu Ge compiled Mantou in response to Chen Kaige’s multimillion dollar epic The Promise (wuji)- described by Geremie Barmé as an “auto–orientalist piece of plotless hype” — in order to express his extreme disappointment at paying the ten RMB ticket price (Ni, 2006; Barmé, 2007). Hu explains, “[Chen’s] film was very bad, so I thought it would be fun to parody it” (Lim, 2006). In Hu Ge’s hands the film, which portrays lovers not so much star–cross’d as they are momentarily distracted, becomes a farcical coverage of a murder by the television program China Legal Report (zhongguo fazhi baodao). Hu Ge’s techniques in this short, and the mocking tone that pervades it and his later work, have informed a community of taste that has consumed and imitated his work.
In Mantou, scenes from The Promise are overdubbed with cartoonish voices and formally dramatic scenes are accompanied by inappropriate music. Hu makes a number of references to pop culture through a soundtrack that borrows heavily from that of The Animatrix (a collection of short animated films set in the Wachowski brothers’ world of The Matrix), the use of a famous image of Albert Einstein writing on a chalkboard to show a modified “equation” of “无极 = 无聊 x2” (wuji = wuliao x2 [The Promise is boring nonsense]), and a scene of accusation and counteraccusation of murder (“jiushi ni shade!” [“you’re a killer!”] also overdubbed with cartoon voices) is set to American rapper MC Hammer’s Can’t Touch This. Hu’s video even has satiric advertisements that poke fun at both the outrageous claims of advertisers and the film itself. Footage of the goddess Manshen, whose hair floats above her head, is used to extol Manshen hair gel, an imaginary product that Hu uses to parody the film as making being so bad that it will make one’s hair stand on end. A scene in which the character Zhang Kunlun is shown outrunning a herd of beasts becomes an advertisement for a brand of straw sandal named “escape” (taoning). Hu inserts an army recruitment advertisement and draws parallels between scenes from the movie and circus acts, poking fun at Chinese institutions and undermining the seriousness of the film.
The popularity of the spoof drew the ire of Chen Kaige, who threatened to sue Hu Ge for breach of copyright. Chen, once lauded for films such as Yellow Earth and Farewell My Concubine that examine the Chinese social condition and its tumultuous history, has become perceived by critics like Hu Ge as a director who prefers the safety of commercial films designed to appeal to a larger audience. Zhou Xiaozheng, a sociologist at People’s University in Beijing, believes that one of the reasons for the popularity of Hu’s satire is that because people “see Chen wearing the same pants as the Communist Party” and so because they cannot criticise government policy directly, they latch on to weapons that attack symbols associated with the government (Ni, 2006). Online research done by the Southern Metropolis Daily suggests that Chen’s faded reputation was further damaged by his attempts to sue Hu in the wake of the popularisation of the video (Wang, 2006). This action converged with his reported attempts to prevent any negative reviews of the film being published for fear that they might impact on ticket sales, drawing the ire of one People’s Daily editorial, which, according to the Los Angeles Times, asked “What do you call an artist who wants to ban freedom of expression? An oxymoron or simply a moron?” (Ni, 2006).
That the People’s Daily chose to comment on Chen’s actions is telling. As an organ of the state, the People’s Daily represents the opinion of government and the Party. The opinion piece criticising Chen implies a level of support for Hu Ge’s project, which in turn implies a degree of support for expression of this kind. As we shall see, however, laws restricting the publication and sharing of online video were strengthened in both 2007 and 2009. Hu has also created a series of mock news bulletins [4]. Mantou was not a direct threat to Party hegemony, nor does it make any overt forays into the discussion of sensitive topics. But the continued creation of video spoofs, including the sudden proliferation of Grass Mud Horse videos, has caused the government to change its position to one more reminiscent of the position it took regarding shunkouliu. This is a point that will be reviewed shortly.
Films made by Hu since have varied in content and form. Aside from original films shot using live actors such as his 007 series, featuring an inept but plucky North Korean secret agent, and Destroying the Bandits of Birdcage Mountain (niaolong shan jiao fei ji), which are not so much pastiche e gao as they are comedic shorts, Hu has also created a series of mock news bulletins. Entitled “XX district XX rental house news,” (XX xiaoqu XX hao qun zu fang) the two bulletins use the problems of an anonymous student share–house to comment on contemporary Chinese society. In one bulletin, the focus is a clogged share–house toilet — a problem the students attempt to resolve by convening a committee, holding a meeting and producing a report. The target of this parody news item appears to be China’s bureaucratic culture and the pool of people from which the bureaucracy draws it members.
The response to a simple problem and the exaggeration of its importance by comparing it to a feature news item is an exercise in satire. The videos deal with a range of problems faced by Chinese society. They include: public transport overcrowding, the problems facing graduates who leave university but are unable to find work and Internet crackdowns. The targets of satire in the video spoofs are similar to the targets of satire in shunkouliu — they are everyday problems faced by Chinese citizens who use a relatively cheap and accessible means of expression to make light of them.
Hu’s work has inspired copycats, who have bombarded video sharing sites with their own satirical reports (shanzhai xinjian). They use this style of commentary to raise their own concerns and poke fun at themselves and the CCTV news coverage. The videos borrow techniques used by Hu in Mantou, such as splicing humorous advertisements for non–existent products in between their news stories, the use of ridiculous voices to caricature reporters and overly serious news anchors presenting absurd stories. The quality of the videos varies as much as the subjects they cover. Topics have ranged from diver Guo Jingjing’s relationship with Hong Kong heir Kenneth Fok, the abduction of Chinese citizens by Islamic militants and state New Year’s celebrations.
Although the films ridicule aspects of Chinese society and produce much merriment, they cannot be viewed as a hard–edged satiric dagger so much as a mirror that college and high school students hold up to the Chinese television news media as a means of making fun of the way it performs its role and the subjects it investigates. This commentary has found a place on the Internet because there is no place for it in Chinese broadcast media and, although the production quality varies depending on the skill of the producer, the videos are an outlet of expression available to individuals with the necessary tools. In this sense, as Li (2009a) argues, they have become dazibao (big character posters) that enable those without access to traditional media to express their thought to their peers and others that may happen across their wall in cyberspace.
However they more closely resemble shunkouliu in that they are attempts at humorous complaints about social ills that are added to and changed over time. Just as shunkouliu are swapped between friends, altered and personalised, so too are spoof videos as young people react to Hu’s news bulletins by posting their own. Hu’s bulletins are deliberately made to caricature China Central Television (CCTV) broadcast news, complete with spinning globe (although in this case, the globe is clearly being spun by a human hand) and bright bands of colour streaking across the screen. He replaces the CCTV watermark with “CCAV,” a trope that has been borrowed by video makers since. These letters began as a stand–in for CCTV, but online discussions, such as at Koubei.com indicate that netizens have claimed the new acronym as a code for falseness (see, for example, ‘dieter_zk’, 2008). Such an understanding reflects a poor opinion of CCTV held by Web users. Common themes such as this indicate that the creators of spoof videos feed on one another’s ideas, which reinforces a comparison with shunkouliu.
Unlike shunkouliu that do not necessarily have a permanent record in the public space, spoof videos are always part of “public transcript” because they are always publicly available online. However, for the most part the targets of Hu’s satire are veiled. Consider, for example, Destroying the Bandits of Birdcage Mountain, which uses an obscuring stratagem that Hu also employs in later work, particularly his 007 films. In this film the obvious targets of satire are George W. Bush (commonly known in China by the moniker xiao Bushi, or Bush Jr.) and Junichiro Koizumi (written in Chinese as 小泉 and pronounced Xiaoquan) who became the president of a so–called “World Police” Qiao Bushi and his assistant Xiao Quan (小全) respectively. One might consider this to be the public transcript of the video as the linguistic connection between Bush and Bushi, Koizumi and Xiao Quan is quite clear. Yet, Li (2009b) notes that Qiao speaks the Hunan dialect, the dialect Mao Zedong is depicted using in many revolutionary movies and that Qiao’s speeches are reminiscent of standard clichés in speeches by Chinese officials. This conforms to Meng’s (2011) statement that one can decode social political critiques from these playful spoofs. Moreover, if we consider the public transcript — or open interaction between those who dominate and their subordinates, in this case the state and citizens — to be the satire of Bush and Koizumi, then the hidden transcript or, better yet, codified transcript is the satire of Chinese political leaders. In this regard, so long as the appearance of deference to the authorities obscures the denigration of them, the spoof can be considered to be a weapon of the weak.
Grass Mud Horse videos: A brief introduction
The Grass Mud Horse (căo ní mă 草泥马), a homonymic pun on “fuck your mother” (cào nĭ mā, 操/肏伆妈) [5], in the context of the 2009 “anti–vulgarity campaign” for Web sites (zhengzhi hulianwang disu zhi feng zhuanxiang xingdong), become an icon of political resistance. The campaign, ostensibly targeting vulgar aspects of the Web such as pornography and violence with a view to controlling them was also directed against political targets, such as the liberal blog hosting site Bullog, which was permanently shut down as a result. The resistance offered by the Grass Mud Horse is a twofold resistance. First, the suspiciously vulgar sounding names are a direct challenge to the campaign itself even thought they are not strictly illegal. Second, the nemesis of the Grass Mud Horse, the River Crab (héxiè, 河蟹) is a homophone of harmony (héxié, 和谐), which is commonly understood by the Chinese Internet community as a reference to Hu Jintao’s harmonious society (hexie shehui) (Qiang, 2009).
Consequently, through a series of videos produced by different Web users, the Grass Mud Horse has become a symbol of resistance to the harmonisation [6] of Internet activities. Web users’ investment of meaning into the Grass Mud Horse has altered it from a smutty joke to a biting and pointed piece of political and social satire. Unlike the satire of Hu Ge, which is insulated from official censorship by many layers of meaning, the simple pun that is the Grass Mud Horse is easily interpreted by Chinese Web users who have long been familiar with the use of puns both as a form of humour and as a protective measure against automated scans for sensitive words published online.
The Grass Mud Horse first gained real prominence in cyberspace in the wake of the government crackdown on undesirable activity in late 2008 and early 2009, ostensibly on vulgarity but in reality encompassing political targets as well in a manner reminiscent of the 1983–84 anti–spiritual pollution campaign. It initially appeared as one of “Baidu’s 10 Mythical Beasts” (Baidu 10 da shen shou) some years beforehand (Wen, 2009). The name of each beast is homonymic code for a misogynist and insulting expression. For example the Franco–Croatian Cuttlefish (fa ke you) is a transliteration of the English ‘fuck you’ and the Quail Pigeon (chun ge, 鹑鸽) is a animalistic rendering of Chun Ge (春哥), which is an insulting reference to Li Yunchun, the 2005 winner of the Chinese televised singing contest Super Girl by referring to her appearance that did not conform to common standards of feminine beauty [7].
The use of homonyms avoids censorship both because of the vagueness of the intention of the author (namely, the true subject of discussion will always be a matter of debate) and because an automated search for particular characters will not find the result intended — for example, a quick search for “Web administrator (guănlĭyuán 管理员)” when the posters have conducted a conversation about the Stork Cat Ape (guànlìyuán 鹳狸猿) will not return any results. An early Grass Mud Horse video, released during January 2009 in the wake of the campaign, posted on the Sohu video sharing service was The Grass Mud Horse of the Ma Le Desert (male gebi de caonima). The video is presented as a zoological documentary that investigates the Grass Mud Horse in its natural environment and its interaction with the local people and main competitor, the River Crab. All of the proper nouns in the video are puns on vulgar expressions or experiments with cultural themes familiar to Web users. This video is important as it is the first that invested political meaning into the Grass Mud Horse through the introduction of the River Crab as a direct competitor.
Similar to the way that different people add their own variations to shunkouliu so too have today’s Chinese Web users added their own ideas to the original video of the Grass Mud Horse. Each addition expands the original concept and makes the concept more visible among the flotsam and jetsam of video material that can be found online. One notable addition is the Song of the Grass Mud Horse (caonima zhi ge), which first appeared in cyberspace in early 2009. Set to the theme of The Smurfs, the song extols the virtues of the Grass Mud Horse as it overcomes the River Crabs (Cui, 2009). First appearing in early February 2009, it juxtaposes the innocence of children singing with the implied vulgarity of the lyrics and the more potent symbolism that they mask. Common to all these Grass Mud Horse videos, however, is the use of puns as a means of commenting on Web censorship. Whenever the Grass Mud Horse is placed in opposition to the River Crab, either through song or animation, the spoof video becomes a means of communicating dissatisfaction in a humorous, albeit low–brow, fashion much like a shunkouliu.
Like the examples discussed in the previous section, these videos depart from shunkouliu in that there is always a public record that can be traced by government authorities. However, also like the aforementioned examples, there are two layers of understanding that serve as public and hidden transcripts. In this case, the public transcript is the thinly disguised licentious joke. The hidden transcript becomes clear in the greater social context of the time, to which we now turn.
Spoof videos as weapons of the weak and power of the powerless
By being used as a form of resistance in this manner, grassroots spoof videos are weapons of the weak because, as Meng (2009) argues, they disturb “the hierarchical status quo of Chinese media.” In the case of Mantou and CCTV spoofs produced by both Hu Ge and others, the spoof videos act as a means of commenting on media products in a public arena and disturbing this hierarchy in film and television respectively through targeting Chen Kaige and CCTV as representative of the cultural establishment. Therefore these videos take on anti–establishment significance.
It is clear that video spoof functions as a weapon of the weak when one examines the CCAV satire produced by Hu and by other spoof makers. The most powerful state television station is a clear representative of the CCP establishment. Through parodying its journalistic style, Chinese Web users are in effect resisting official reporting of events as they appear in the traditional news media. The absurd stories portrayed in these news bulletins are a means of reinterpreting contemporary social issues. Haomin Gong and Xin Yang (2010) have argued that e gao facilitates the Internet to offer a space for individual expression that enables Web users to “intervene in the formation of an institutionalised narrative” leading to a sense of empowerment. In other words, Web users feel empowered because they feel as though through e gao they can contribute to public culture. This sense of self–empowerment, just like shunkouliu, stems from the ability of spoof videos to enable the creator to experience a form of social levelling by denigrating his target in a humorous but not necessarily malicious manner.
However, to reiterate, spoof videos are always part of the public transcript, which James Scott describes as open interaction between subordinates and those who dominate, because they are published in the public arena. Ashley Esarey and Xiao Qiang (2007) report that according to the blogger Xiaofeng Wang, the state can identify bloggers even without a system that requires bloggers to register their real names. Since the publication of their article, the online environment has changed to include a number of real–name systems. During 2007 the first real–name blog service was launched at Bo Lian She [8], targeting Chinese intellectuals. In 2009 the Hubei government announced plans to promote the real–name system in blog and video sharing sectors, and in October 2010 discussion began on a similar program at a national level known as the Real Name Registration Project (RNR, wangluo shi mingzi) (Hicks, 2010). The ability to track down the creators of spoof videos removes the barrier between hidden and public transcript which differentiates them from shunkouliu.
Even though the Chinese authorities initially appeared unconcerned with spoof videos, as illustrated by the tone of the aforementioned People’s Daily editorial, attitudes soon began to change. In August 2006 a Guangming Daily symposium was called to “prevent e gao from spreading on the Internet” (Meng, 2009). In the same month rumours began spreading online that an “anti–satire regulation” (fan e gao gaunli tiaoli) was being drafted by SARFT. By the following year the 2007 Regulation for Online Audio and Video services had been enacted (Meng, 2009). The new regulation required all video hosting services to apply for an “Online Audiovisual Broadcasting Licence,” enabling greater government control over video content (Meng, 2009). Meng (2009) argues that the regulation was the result of a turf war between SARFT and the Ministry for Information Industries (MII) and that SARFT’s strong reaction against e gao was at attempt to reclaim regulatory power over Internet content. Although this view has merit, two other official responses to public culture suggest that the CCP was genuinely concerned about e gao content. First, the SARFT legislation resembles the government reaction to shunkouliu in 1982 that indicated a concern about sarcasm and this particular form of expression that utilised it. Second, the government has also erected an elaborate system of online controls over blogging, something that Esarey and Xiao (2007) argue indicates that the CCP is genuinely concerned that blogging could “erode party dominance over ideology.” It follows that if the Party is genuinely concerned about the sarcasm of shunkouliu and the ability of blogging to undermine its authority, then it is also genuinely concerned about the ability of spoof videos to undermine its authority.
The Internet crackdown under the guise of an “anti–vulgarity” campaign at the beginning of 2009 provides the context for the popularisation of the Grass Mud Horse as a political symbol. In a blog post that has been widely reproduced on the Web and thus can be taken as a yardstick for the beliefs of Web users, Weiping Cui (2009) of the Beijing Film Academy uses the Grass Mud Horse to discuss growing animosity between Web users, the Grass Mud Clan (caoni zu), and censors, the River Crab Clan (hexie zu). Cui (2009) explains that the Grass Mud Horse is a conduit for the anger of netizens in the wake of the anti–vulgarity campaign which had shut down “1911 seriously illegal websites and closed 269 pornographic blogs” by 10 February, including targeting major Internet portals Sina, Sohu, Baidu, Tencent and the “website for the little man” Douban. She goes on to explain that large numbers of ‘groups’ within Douban were closed, from those titles “Taiwan Politics,” and “Freedom of Speech” to “Southern Weekend Group” and “Cultural Revolution” (Cui, 2009). This was a gratuitous intrusion into people’s lives that lead to unnecessary antagonism between the Web users and officials, thus working against the interests of a harmonious society (Cui, 2009). For Cui, the Grass Mud Horse is a release valve that enables Web users to vent their frustration at this intrusion without transgressing Chinese law.
It should be noted that even though the battle between the Grass Mud Horse and River Crab has come to symbolise a battle for freedom of expression online in a general sense its origins were much more specific. The Grass Mud Horse was forced to fight the River Crab because the Crab was stealing the Horse’s food wocao (沃草), a clear homonym of ‘I fuck’ (wo cao, 憷肏). The object of the battle is a clear indicator of the original source of friction between authorities and Web users, namely what constitutes pornography and how it is consumed online.
Online Yuhua Guo (2009) interprets the appearance of cartoon versions of the Grass Mud Horse as a form of protest against the deletion of drawings from Douban considered to be “pornographic and harm–causing.” To explain this in Scott’s language, the government, as the power holder, is controlling what is “on stage” and commands deference from the population who are expected to refrain from sharing similar drawings in future (Scott, 1985). In this case, the government has defined the meaning of “pornographic” and then has directed what appears “on–stage” by removing the drawings from Douban. While feigning deference to the established order, by animating and drawing an innocent animal in the form of an alpaca, netizens reclaim the meaning of pornographic because that animal represents a mythical creature with a pornographic subtext. This is a clear reinterpretation of the shunkouliu concept. Just as shunkouliu are satiric jibes that express popular opinion, so too do the videos of the Grass Mud Horse express public sentiment in the form of a joke. Furthermore, both forms of expression derive their humour and their meaning from reinterpretations of official pronouncements on particular social issues.
Shaojung Sharon Wang (2012) has written an engaging analysis of the Grass Mud Horse as a “form of collective action” less confrontational than the Tiananmen protests of 4 June 1989 and one that is a product of China’s increasing commercialisation and materialism as it is readily reproduced in consumer product forms. (One delightful example that Wang (2012) discusses is the appearance of the Grass Mud Horse plush toys.) In response to the continuing popularisation of the Grass Mud Horse, SARFT strengthened laws pertaining to Internet video content. In guidelines published on 30 March 2009, outlined are restrictions on online video that are the same as those placed on traditional media forms, but also includes online–specific laws pertaining to titles of videos and the broadcast of foreign television programs online [9]. Regulation 2.2 deliberately outlaws satire of ‘important figures’ (zhongyao renwu), 2.8 through 2.13 all outlaw sexual content of varying forms and regulation 3 specifically asks content providers to monitor any video tagged or titled as ‘funny’, among other terms. These new regulations are easily interpreted as a direct attack on the Grass Mud Horse as a profane and sexualised icon of satiric humour.
This attempt to ban the Grass Mud Horse could be interpreted as an attempt to remove an object that may be considered lewd and offensive. However, the context and timing of the crackdown would suggest otherwise. Not only was the ban enacted well after the Grass Mud Horse and many other potentially lewd animals were released into Chinese cyberspace, but it follows the pattern of legislation aimed at curbing cultural icons that the CCP perceives as threatening its authority.
Ironically, it is this very action that has empowered the Grass Mud Horse. Gong and Yang’s “imagined power” described earlier does not necessarily imply a challenge to established social and cultural orders. But by reacting to the Grass Mud Horse by placing further restrictions on video spoofing than had existed in the past, SARFT has in effect revealed that it has been forced to act by the Grass Mud Horse, just like the Flying University prompted changes to official curriculum in Polish state universities and the spread of shunkouliu prompted a warning from the People’s Daily. By making this change, SARFT had instilled the Grass Mud Horse with a particular political potency. It is from this action that the Grass Mud Horse draws its power.
This power is illustrated by the different uses to which the Grass Mud Horse has since been put both in and out of cyberspace. Figure 1 shows how the term has developed this clear message of defiance. It shows a graffito sprayed on an advertising board for an Internet café that reads cao ni ma. Although the true purpose of the vandal cannot be known, the graffito reiterates the use of the Grass Mud Horse as such a gesture. It is particularly clear in the context of the sign as an advertisement for an Internet café, which enables interpretation of the graffito as a reclamation of Web space as manifest in a physical environment. In both cases, the manner of communication is one readily accessible to those without any other means of political expression.
Figure 1: Caonima (Grass Mud Horse) sprayed onto an ad for an Internet café (http://twitpic.com/2ieq4).
The Grass Mud Horse also benefits from the ease with which it becomes an image. The message associated with the homonym can be summarised with the reproduction of an alpaca, which represents ordinary citizens, battling a crab, which represents the state censors. Once the underground symbolism of the Grass Mud Horse had been established, the image of the alpaca is sufficient to communicate the same message. For example, Figure 2 shows an attempt at satire using the Grass Mud Horse and the CCTV fire of early 2009. The image implies that the Grass Mud Horse is complicit in the CCTV fires in a representation of a desire for freedom of expression resisting the highly controlled state–run media. Furthermore, online retailers have been selling stuffed alpacas as Grass Mud Horses (Martinsen, 2009). Prominent blogger and citizen journalist Zhou Shuguang has taken numerous photographs of himself with the Grass Mud Horse, in the form of a plush alpaca, at prominent Chinese locations, such as the Great Wall, which he then publishes online via the photo sharing site TwitPic accompanied by commentary that he publishes via the microblogging service Twitter [10]. Because the alpaca is immediately recognised as a Grass Mud Horse, particularly in the hands of a blogger who has well–known views regarding the Internet and freedom of expression, the message being conveyed is quite clear. Although it began as a character in a video spoof, the Grass Mud Horse has grown to be a symbol of free expression in the face of censorship because the reactions of SARFT legitimised it as so.
Figure 2: CCTV fire with the image of the Grass Mud Horse added to the smoke, the text reads “Grass Mud Horse?” (From: http://www.chinasmack.com/pictures/cctv-fire-funny-photoshops-by-chinese-netizens/).
Spoof videos are a form of weapon of the weak because even though they are published in a public arena they delineate between public and codified transcripts. They have become a form of power of the powerless because they have forced the SARFT regulations governing online video to be strengthened in 2009. Even though they may not have initially formed a direct challenge to the CCP regime, but instead formed imagined power as described by Hong and Yang, SARFT’s response has invested power in spoofs as evidenced by the Grass Mud Horse.
Video satire has grown from a means of engaging with popular culture on a personal level to a political tool. By creating mythologies with vague and multiple meanings for established symbols, netizens have been able to reclaim space for political and social resistance and power from authorities seeking to control that space. Although Li quite rightly argues that these videos resemble dazibao in that they are a form of public expression available to those who have no other means of engaging in public dialogue, spoofs also resemble shunkouliu because they engage in political and social satire and can be embellished and added to over time as individuals seek to experiment with a particular theme.
Shunkouliu, therefore, are better representatives of weapons of the weak than are video spoofs. However, in some respects video spoofs do function as weapons of the weak. They are a form of social levelling that enables citizens to judge and challenge the state through satire. In more complex examples of video spoofing, there is a clear difference between the obvious target of satire, similar to public transcript, and the codified target, similar to a hidden transcript. However, it is clear that spoof videos concern the Chinese authorities. This concern has translated into legislative change, which in turn has made clear for all Chinese the potency of spoofing as a tool of political expression and therefore as a source of power for the powerless.
About the author
Alexander Lugg has recently completed a dissertation on the pursuit of attention and the development of Chinese online user–created content. He lives in Melbourne, Australia.
E–mail: alexander [dot] lugg [at] monash [dot] edu
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Henry Li for leading me to some interesting material about Hu Ge’s work and Yang Ling, for commentary on an early draft of this paper.
Notes
1. Havel (1985) uses the term ‘post–totalitarian’ to refer to a society that “is simply another form of the consumer and industrial society, with all its concomitant social, intellectual, and psychological consequences.”
2. The ‘Flying University’ was an underground educational movement from 1977–1981 in the People’s Republic of Poland that sought to provide education outside government censorship and control of education.
3. See http://www.sarft.gov.cn/articles/2009/03/30/20090330171107690049.html for a full list of the guidelines from 30 March 2009.
4. Ashley Esarey and Xiao Qiang (2007, p. 764) define e gao as something that messes with an existing media product. In the following discussion I have chosen to include Hu Ge’s news bulletins even though they are not all of the same pastiche style as Mantou because they are a form of film that is, and has been, regularly imitated by others who lack the same technical skills and resources that Hu has. Similarly, not all videos featuring the Grass Mud Horse are pastiche videos. Many are original animations and so on. In this regard these videos ‘mess’ with the message of the existing media products.
5. Although the second character listed here is the correct cào its relative rarity in Chinese computer fonts lead many to replace it with the first character — the homophone pronounced c¬āo. The increasingly common use of the homophone has lead to some dictionaries listing a translation of c¬āo as “fuck”.
6. Drawing on Hu Jintao’s signature addition to People’s Republic of China state ideology, the ‘Harmonious Society’ (hexie shehui) and the means to maintain harmony and state stability, ‘harmonisation’ has become a synonym for censorship in Chinese Web parlance.
7. Other ‘Mythical Beasts,’ the moaning paddy goose (yin dao yan, 吟稻雁) and tail whale (wei shen jing, 尾申鲸) are puns on vaginal disease (yindao yan, 阴道炎) and sanitary napkins (weisheng jin, 卫生巾).
8. Available at www.blshe.com.
9. See http://www.sarft.gov.cn/articles/2009/03/30/20090330171107690049.html for a full list of the guidelines.
10. Zhou’s microblog can be found at http://twitter.com/zuola. The photographs can be accessed via links on this microblog.
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Editorial history
Received 6 December 2011; revised 8 June 2013; accepted 9 June 2013.
“Mantous and alpacas as weapons of the weak: Chinese spoof video and self–expression online” by Alexander Lugg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution–NonCommercial–NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.Mantous and alpacas as weapons of the weak: Chinese spoof video and self–expression online
by Alexander Lugg.
First Monday, Volume 18, Number 7 - 1 July 2013
http://www.firstmonday.dk/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/3885/3695
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