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Lipstick And Tiananmen: China Dives Into Livestreaming Censorship

It may have taken a little while, but the Chinese Communist Party woke up to the risks of losing control of information flows on livestream platforms.

Photo of a Chinese streamer recording

On June 22, a new regulation on the livestreaming industry was issued by Chinese authorities

Dan Wu

Austin Li Jiaqi, China’s “lipstick King” and most famous beauty influencer, has been missing since last month from social media and livestreams.

Most trace his absence to a livestream on June 3 when Li was presented with a tank-shaped cake — it was the night before the anniversary of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre.

Li had gained a reputation as being loyal to the Chinese Communist Party, and his livestreaming career has been launched in close cooperation with regional governments. Still, his sudden disappearance from his 170 million fans is perhaps the clearest sign that China’s massive livestreaming industry now has the full attention of Beijing's powers-that-be.

Booming industry under scrutiny

On June 22, a new regulation on the livestreaming industry was issued by China’s National Radio and Television Administration and the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. This 18-point guideline lists 31 banned behaviors for livestreamers, raising the bar of entry and requirements for practices in the booming digital economy.

The regulation clearly states that live video makers “must not commit any act that subverts state power or endangers national unity, sovereignty and territorial integrity,” and a "sound credit evaluation system" will be established in accordance with this code.

Other notable points include the requirement that influencers have relevant qualifications to discuss topics such as law, finance, medicine and education. Also, livestreamers are forbidden from showing an extravagant lifestyle on screen, while the platforms are directed to refrain from promoting public figures, who have violated the law or shown “low morals,” from being able to express their opinions publicly.

Austin Li Jiaqi and the infamous "tank cake" featured on his livestream on June 3

Austin Li Jaiqi's livestream

Patriotism and political correctness 

After Austin Li’s disappearance, the direct stress on “political correctness” and “good morals” in livestreaming indicates a significant new lever of control on freedom of speech on such platforms.

Especially with so many influencers in Hong Kong, Taiwan and even foreign webcasters joining livestreaming platforms in mainland China, their opinions and behaviors were also bound to be scrutinized.

The whole industry of livestreaming is now under the eye of Beijing.

On the 25th anniversary of Hong Kong’s return to China, videos featuring patriotic sentiments and “national pride” have been circulating all over Chinese social media, and many Hong Kong artists were asked to show their “loyalty and patriotism” on video.

In fact, this business of patriotism and nationalism is not a new phenomenon, having long been an easy way to attract online audiences. “Professionally patriotic” livestreamers have long been active on various platforms, including a few notable foreign voices joining in, posting videos that praise and sometimes even exaggerate China’s “progress.”

Of course, these were not the only voices. With frustration at COVID-related policies still alive in most regions in China, livestreaming has also been a medium for people and social activists to voice their dissidence and to reveal social realities.

Bad intentions

The release of the regulations themselves also provoked mixed views from online Chinese-language social media. There seems to be a widely shared belief that most video streamers are not “well-intentioned”, and are just “hunting" for audiences, often using shock and vulgarity to gain popularity.

The new codes would regulate the industry by setting admission requirements, and could therefore actually improve the quality of video content. Yet on the point of whether influencers should have certain qualifications to discuss certain topics, it is notable that the administration has not yet specified which qualifications are being referred to for what topic.

Many Chinese internet users are opposed to this notion of approving all content, as they think it would be “regrettable and boring” if only professionals could deliver the relevant points in such fields. Still, it is evident that the whole industry of livestreaming is now under the eye of Beijing, especially with its landscape that gives everyone a chance to voice themselves.

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FOCUS: Russia-Ukraine War

Black Sea Survivor: Tale Of A Ukrainian Special Agent Thrown Overboard In Enemy Waters

This is a tale of a Ukrainian special forces operator who wound up surviving 14 hours at sea, staying afloat and dodging Russian air and sea patrols.

Black Sea Survivor: Tale Of A Ukrainian Special Agent Thrown Overboard In Enemy Waters

Looking at the Black Sea in Odessa, Ukraine.

Rustem Khalilov and Roksana Kasumova

KYIV — During a covert operation in the Black Sea, a Ukrainian special agent was thrown overboard and spent the next 14 hours alone at sea, surrounded by enemy forces.

Stay up-to-date with the latest on the Russia-Ukraine war, with our exclusive international coverage.

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The agent, who uses the call-sign "Conan," agreed to speak to Ukrainska Pravda, to share the details of nearly being lost forever at sea. He also shared some background on how he arrived in the Ukrainian special forces. Having grown up in a village in a rural territory of Ukraine, Conan describes himself as "a simple guy."

He'd worked in law enforcement, personal security and had a job as a fitness trainer when Russia launched its full-scale invasion on Feb. 24, 2022. That's when he signed up with the Ukrainian Armed Forces, Main Directorate of Intelligence "Artan" battalion. It was nearly 18 months into his service, when Conan faced the most harrowing experience of the war. Here's his first-hand account:

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