Media and Communication in the Chinese Diaspora

The rise of China has brought about a dramatic increase in the rate of migration from mainland China. At the same time, the Chinese government has embarked on a full-scale push for the internationalization of Chinese media and culture. Media and communication have therefore become crucial factors in shaping the increasingly fraught politics of transnational Chinese communities. This book explores the changing nature of these communities and reveals their dynamic and complex relationship to the media in a range of countries worldwide. Overall, the book highlights a number of ways in which China’s “going global” policy interacts with other factors in sig- niﬁcantly reshaping the content and contours of the diasporic Chinese media landscape. In doing so, this book constitutes a major rethinking of Chinese transnationalism in the twenty-ﬁrst century.

Wanning Sun is Professor of Media and Communication Studies at the University of Technology, Sydney.

John Sinclair is an Honorary Professorial Fellow at the University of Melbourne. Media, Culture and Social Change in Asia Series

Series Editor: Stephanie Hemelryk Donald, University of Liverpool

Editorial Board: Gregory N. Evon, University of New South Wales Devleena Ghosh, University of Technology, Sydney Peter Horsﬁeld, RMIT University, Melbourne Chris Hudson, RMIT University, Melbourne K.P. Jayasankar, Unit for Media and Communications, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Bombay Michael Keane, Queensland University of Technology Tania Lewis, RMIT University, Melbourne Vera Mackie, University of Melbourne Kama Maclean, University of New South Wales Jane Mills, University of New South Wales Anjali Monteiro, Unit for Media and Communications, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Bombay Laikwan Pang, Chinese University of Hong Kong Gary Rawnsley, Aberystwyth University Ming-yeh Rawnsley, University of Leeds Jo Tacchi, RMIT University, Melbourne Adrian Vickers, University of Sydney Jing Wang, MIT Ying Zhu, City University of New York

The aim of this series is to publish original, high-quality work by both new and established scholars in the West and the East, on all aspects of media, culture and social change in Asia.

1 Television Across Asia 3 Cultural Control and Television industries, programme Globalization in Asia formats and globalisation Copyright, piracy Edited by Albert Moran and and cinema Michael Keane Laikwan Pang

2 Journalism and Democracy in Asia 4 Conﬂict, Terrorism and the Edited by Angela Romano and Media in Asia Michael Bromley Edited by Benjamin Cole 5 Media and the Chinese Diaspora 14 Tamil Cinema Community, communications The cultural politics of India’s and commerce other ﬁlm industry Edited by Wanning Sun Edited by Selvaraj Velayutham

6 Hong Kong Film, Hollywood and 15 Popular Culture in Indonesia the New Global Cinema Fluid identities in No ﬁlm is an island post-authoritarian politics Edited by Gina Marchetti and Edited by Ariel Heryanto Tan See Kam 16 Television in India 7 Media in Hong Kong Satellites, politics and Press freedom and political cultural change change 1967–2005 Edited by Nalin Mehta Carol P. Lai 17 Media and Cultural 8 Chinese Documentaries Transformation in China From dogma to polyphony Haiqing Yu Yingchi Chu 18 Global Chinese Cinema 9 Japanese Popular Music The culture and politics of hero Culture, authenticity and power Edited by Gary D. Rawnsley and Carolyn S. Stevens Ming-Yeh T. Rawnsley

10 The Origins of the Modern 19 Youth, Society and Mobile Chinese Press Media in Asia The inﬂuence of the Protestant Edited by Stephanie Hemelryk missionary press in late Donald, Theresa Dirndorfer Qing China Anderson and Damien Spry Xiantao Zhang 20 The Media, Cultural Control and 11 Created in China Government in Singapore The great new leap forward Terence Lee Michael Keane 21 Politics and the Media in 12 Political Regimes and Twenty-First Century Indonesia the Media in Asia Edited by Krishna Sen and Edited by Krishna Sen and David T. Hill Terence Lee 22 Media, Social Mobilization 13 Television in and Mass Protests in Post-Reform China Post-colonial Hong Kong Serial dramas, Confucian leadership The power of a critical event and the global television market Francis L. F. Lee and Ying Zhu Joseph M. Chan 23 HIV/AIDS, Health and the 32 Rumor and Communication in Media in China Asia in the Internet Age Imagined immunity through Edited by Greg Dalziel racialized disease Johanna Hood 33 Genders and Sexualities in Indonesian Cinema 24 Islam and Popular Culture in Constructing gay, lesbi and waria Indonesia and Malaysia identities on screen Edited by Andrew N. Weintraub Ben Murtagh

25 Online Society in China 34 Contemporary Chinese Creating, celebrating, and Print Media instrumentalising the Cultivating middle class taste online carnival Yi Zheng Edited by David Kurt Herold and Peter Marolt 35 Culture, Aesthetics and Aﬀect in Ubiquitous Media 26 Rethinking Transnational The prosaic image Chinese Cinemas Helen Grace The Amoy-dialect ﬁlm industry in Cold War Asia 36 Democracy, Media and Law in Jeremy E. Taylor Malaysia and Singapore A space for speech 27 Film in Contemporary Edited by Andrew T. Kenyon, Tim Southeast Asia Marjoribanks and Amanda Whiting Cultural interpretation and social intervention 37 Indonesia-Malaysia Relations Edited by David C. L. Lim Cultural heritage, politics and and Hiroyuki Yamamoto labour migration Marshall Clark and Juliet Pietsch 28 China’s New Creative Clusters Governance, human capital, 38 Chinese and Japanese Films on and investment the Second World War Michael Keane Edited by King-fai Tam, Timothy Y. Tsu and Sandra Wilson 29 Media and Democratic Transition in South Korea 39 New Chinese-Language Ki-Sung Kwak Documentaries Ethics, subject and place 30 The Asian Cinema Experience Kuei-fen Chiu and Yingjin Zhang Styles, spaces, theory Stephen Teo 40 K-pop – The International Rise of the Korean Music Industry 31 Asian Popular Culture Edited by JungBong Choi and Edited by Anthony Y. H. Fung Roald Maliangkay 41 China Online 43 Television Histories in Asia Locating society in Issues and contexts online spaces Edited by Jinna Tay and Edited by Peter Marolt and Graeme Turner David Kurt Herold 44 Media and Communication 42 Multimedia Stardom in in the Chinese Diaspora Hong Kong Rethinking transnationalism Image, performance and identity Edited by Wanning Sun and Leung Wing-Fai John Sinclair This page intentionally left blank Media and Communication in the Chinese Diaspora Rethinking transnationalism

Edited by Wanning Sun and John Sinclair

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Add AddAdd AddAdd AddAdd First published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2016 selection and editorial material, Wanning Sun and John Sinclair; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Wanning Sun and John Sinclair to be identiﬁed as author of the editorial material, and of the individual authors as authors of their contributions, has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identiﬁcation and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Media and communication in the Chinese diaspora : rethinking transnationalism / edited by Wanning Sun and John Sinclair. pages cm. – (Media, culture and social change in Asia) 1. Mass media- -China. 2. China- -Emigration and immigration. I. Sun, Wanning, 1963- editor. P92.C6M43 2015 302.2300951- -dc23 2015006157

ISBN: 978-1-138-85940-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-71726-5 (ebk)

Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books Contents

List of illustrations xi List of contributors xii Abbreviations xv

Introduction: rethinking Chinese diasporic media 1 WANNING SUN AND JOHN SINCLAIR

1 “New Migrants” from the PRC and the Transformation of Chinese Media: the case of Cambodia 15 NYÍRI PÁL

2 The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites”: media and being Chinese in South Africa 32 WANNING SUN

3 An Overseas Orthodoxy?: shifting toward Pro-PRC Media in Chinese-speaking Brazil 48 JOSH STENBERG

4 Bridge or Barrier: migration, media, and the sojourner mentality in Chinese communities in Italy and Spain 69 TIAN GONG

5 Unique Past and Common Future: Chinese immigrants and Chinese-language media in France 87 NAN DAI

6 Politics of Homeland: hegemonic discourses of the intervening homeland in Chinese diasporic newspapers in the Netherlands 109 CINDY CHEUNG-KWAN CHONG x Contents 7 The Chinese Diaspora, Motherland, and “June Fourth”:a discourse analysis of the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, 2009–13 130 JINGRONG TONG

8 Geo-ethnic Storytelling: Chinese-language television in Canada 147 SHUYU KONG

9 Cyber China and Evolving Transnational Identities: the case of New Zealand 165 MANYING IP AND HANG YIN

10 Provisional Business Migrants to Western Australia, Social Media, and Conditional Belonging 184 SUSAN LEONG

11 Xin Yimin: “new” Chinese migration and new media in a Trinidadian town 203 JOLYNNA SINANAN

Index 220 List of illustrations

Figures 5.1 Age distribution of Chinese migrant survey participants 98 5.2 Birthplace distribution of Chinese migrant survey participants 99 5.3 Occupations of Chinese migrant survey participants 100 5.4 Chinese migrant survey participants’ main sources of news and information 100 5.5 Chinese migrant survey participants’ preferred media content 101 5.6 Length of time Chinese migrant survey participants had been reading European Times newspaper 102 5.7 Chinese migrant survey participants’ usual way of accessing European Times newspaper 102 5.8 Chinese migrant survey participants’ feedback for improving European Times newspaper 103 7.1 Two dichotomies in the “June Fourth” discourse, as identiﬁed in an analysis of posts on the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, 2009–13 139

Tables 4.1 Chinese-language newspapers in Spain and Italy 75 7.1 Eleven threads from the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, on topics relating to the “June Fourth” event 138 List of contributors

Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong is currently completing her PhD at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, after graduating from the University of London, Goldsmiths. Her research interests include ethnic minorities and the media, minority media in Hong Kong, Chinese diasporic media, and community communication.

Nan Dai is a Lecturer at the Shanghai University of Political Science and Law, where she teaches media and television documentary production. In 2012 she was a Visiting Scholar in the French Press Institute at the Uni- versité Panthéon-Assas (Paris II). She conducts research on media and migration and television, and has written several articles about diasporic Chinese media for Chinese journals. She is the author of Chinese Media in Europe: From the Perspective of Mother Tongue Communication (Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences Press, 2014).

Tian Gong is a Lecturer in the School of Foreign Studies and the Center of African Studies at the University of International Relations in Beijing, where she teaches Theories of French Media and French language. She received her PhD from the Université Panthéon-Assas (Paris II) in 2014. Tutored by French historian Fabrice d’Almeida, she conducted research into Chinese-language media and Chinese immigrants in Europe for six years. The resulting thesis is being published in French.

Manying Ip is Professor Emeritus in Asian Studies, University of Auckland. She holds a Fellowship of the Royal Society of New Zealand, awarded for her achievements in the humanities. Cyber China and the Chinese diaspora is a research topic that she has worked on over the last ﬁve years.

Shuyu Kong is Associate Professor in Humanities and Director of the Asia- Canada program at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada. She teaches Chinese literary and cultural studies and Asian diaspora studies. Shuyu is the author of Consuming Literature: Best Sellers and the Com- mercialization of Literary Production in Contemporary China (Stanford University Press, 2005) and Popular Media, Social Emotion and Public List of contributors xiii Discourse in Contemporary China (Routledge, 2014). Her current research focuses on Chinese-language television in Canada. Susan Leong is an Early Career Research Fellow with Curtin University in Western Australia, and author of New Media and the Nation in Malaysia: Malaysianet (Routledge, 2014). Current projects include “Belonging at the Borders: Diaspora Business in the Age of the Internet,” which focuses on provisional business migrants from Mainland China, and other work on new media, Islam, minorities, and multi-ethnic co-existence in Malaysia. She has published articles in Critical Asian Studies, Continuum,andNew Media & Society on the Australian-Chinese diaspora, the Malaysian Multimedia Super Corridor, the future of nations, Singaporean identity, and the notion of internet time. Nyíri Pál is Professor of Global History from an Anthropological Perspective at the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam. He is the author, most recently, of Mobility and Cultural Authority in Contemporary China (University of Washington Press, 2010) and, with Joana Breidenbach, Seeing Culture Everywhere: From Genocide to Consumer Habits (University of Washing- ton Press, 2009). He is currently writing a book on how reporters for Chi- nese media report on the world. He blogs about China’s development export at http://mqvu.wordpress.com. Jolynna Sinanan is a Research Fellow in Anthropology at University College London (UCL), where she is part of the Global Social Media Impact Study. She is the co-author, with Professor Daniel Miller, of the book Webcam (Polity, 2014)—a joint project between UCL and the School of Media and Communication at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technol- ogy. Jolynna completed her PhD in Development Studies at the University of Melbourne. John Sinclair is an Honorary Professorial Fellow in the School of Historical and Philosophical Studies at the University of Melbourne. His internationally published work covers various aspects of the globalization of the media and communication industries, with special relation to cultural factors in the transnationalization of markets, and with a regional emphasis on Asia and Latin America. His books include Advertising, the Media and Globalisation; Latin American Television: A Global View; the co-written Latin American Television Industries; and the co-edited Consumer Culture in Latin America, and Floating Lives: The Media and Asian Diasporas. Josh Stenberg has conducted research on ethnic Chinese communities in Indonesia, Russia, and Brazil, and is currently completing a dissertation on Sino-Indonesian theater and performance at Nanjing University. As a translator, his publications include contemporary Chinese fiction, poetry, and drama. He is the editor of Irina’s Hat: New Short Stories from China (University of Hawaii Press, 2013). xiv List of contributors Wanning Sun is Professor of Media and Communication Studies at the Uni- versity of Technology, Sydney. She has a long-standing interest in Chinese media, the Chinese diaspora, soft power, public diplomacy, and the globalization of Chinese media. She is the author of Leaving China: Media, Migra- tion, and Transnational Imagination (Rowman & Littlefield, 2002), and editor of Media and the Chinese Diaspora: Community, Communications and Com- merce (Routledge, 2006). Her interest in these areas is also reflected in several papers in the International Journal of Communication from 2010 onward. Jingrong Tong is Lecturer in Media and Communication at the University of Leicester. Her current research focuses on online communication and the relationship between journalism and society. She has published articles on online communication, the transformation of journalism and newspapers, investigative journalism, self-censorship, and the media–government relationship in China. She is the author of Investigative Journalism in China: Journalism, Power, and Society (Continuum, 2011) and Investigative Jour- nalism, Environmental Problems and Modernisation in China (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). Hang Yin is an Honorary Research Fellow at the School of Cultures, Languages, and Linguistics, the University of Auckland. He has completed an MA in Film, Television, and Media Studies and a PhD in Asian Studies. His research connects the two fields of media and migration studies, exploring new media, transnationalism, and the media–migrant nexus, with a special focus on overseas Chinese cyber nationalism and migrant identity construction in relation to the transnational mediascape. Abbreviations

ACC Association of Chinese in Cambodia AOCME Association of Overseas Chinese Media in Europe ATV Asia Television, a Hong Kong-based television broadcaster BC British Columbia BRICS A group of five nations often grouped together as the most rapidly growing economies in the world today: Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa BTV Beijing Television, a government-owned network operating out of Beijing CBC Canadian Broadcasting Corporation CCCC Cambodian Chinese Chamber of Commerce CCTV China Central Television CCP Chinese Communist Party CMC China Media Capital CNA Central News Agency, the state news agency of the Republic of China CNE Chinese News and Entertainment (later, Phoenix CNE), a Hong Kong-based television channel CNP Chinese Nationalist Party of Taiwan (also known as Kuomintang—KMT) CNS China News Service CPP Cambodian People’s Party CRI China Radio International CRTV Chinese Radio and Television, a Dutch media organization CRTC Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Commission CTV CTV Television Network, a Canadian English-language organization CTV China Television Company, Ltd., a Taiwanese television channel formerly called Taiwan Daytime TV (TDT), established by the Chinese Nationalist Party in 1968 HYS “Have Your Say”—online BBC Chinese forum xvi Abbreviations IM Instant messaging IP Internet Protocol IPTV Internet Protocol Television KMT Kuomintang (Guomin dang), the Chinese Nationalist Party (CNP) of Taiwan MSN Messenger (More recently known as Windows Live Messenger). A now-discontinued instant messaging (IM) service owned by Microsoft. OCAO Overseas Chinese Affairs Office—the State Council of China’soffice for liaising with Chinese living abroad or returning to China PBM Provisional business migrants PR Permanent residence in a country PRC People’s Republic of China QQ Tencent QQ, a popular China-based instant messaging software service that also offers a wide range of other functions RMB Renminbi (China’sofficial currency) ROC Republic of China: 1) Taiwan 2) The period in China’s history that began in 1912 and ended with the establishment of the PRC in 1949 SA South Africa/South African SMG Shanghai Media Group SNS Social Networking Service TVB Television Broadcasts Limited, Hong Kong’s first commercial wireless television station, established in 1967 TVBC Television Broadcasts China, a joint venture between TVB, CMC, and SMG TVBI TVB International, the worldwide operating arm of TVB TVBS Television Broadcasts Satellite, a satellite and cable television network in Taiwan established in 1993 TVNZ Television New Zealand, New Zealand’s government-owned national broadcaster ZJTV Zhejiang Television Introduction Rethinking Chinese diasporic media1

Wanning Sun and John Sinclair

Almost a decade after the publication of Media and the Chinese Diaspora (Sun 2006), it has become obvious that there is an urgent need for a sequel. The reason for this update is empirical as well as conceptual. The 2006 volume covers media and the Chinese communities in a number of national contexts, but still missing from that volume are the history and current formations of the Chinese presence in Europe, Africa, Latin America, and many parts of Southeast Asia. While filling these geographical gaps is necessary, a number of important new developments also need to be taken into account. First, the size and demographic composition of the population of Chinese- speaking migrants and sojourners have grown exponentially due to the growing presence of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in businesses, resources and property investments, education, and tourism outside China. Second, in recent years, especially since the 2008 Beijing Olympics, China has more explicitly and concertedly articulated and implemented a “going global” policy, which has resulted in a full-scale push for the internationalization of Chinese media and culture (Hu and Ji 2012; Y. Zhao 2013; Sun 2014). As a result of this, diasporic Chinese media organizations have developed myriad location-specific strategies in response to China’s overtures of collaboration. Third, due to the proliferation of technological platforms and modes of media usage in the past decade or so, the collective diasporic Chinese identity is becoming further deterritorialized and refashioned in multiple and contradictory ways, and this is being played out in a wide range of global and local contexts. China’s “media going global” initiative is a key aspect of its exercise of soft power. Indeed, the speed of China’s media expansion seems to be accelerating, with Chinese media steadily increasing their footprint across the entire world. This development has already generated an unprecedented global response, manifested in mounting apprehension on the part of media industries, government bodies, policy think-tanks, the business community, and the public in general, in various parts of the world, especially the West. While the term “soft power” has become an all-purpose catch-phrase both inside and outside China, its implementation and efficacy has mostly been examined in the context of Chinese foreign policy and China’s involvement in 2 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair international politics. These investigations have brought us no closer to an explanation of how the concept is understood and applied in the domain of media and communication. Nor is there much in-depth knowledge of how successful China’s “media going global” project has been so far, what imperatives and strategies are currently in operation, and what obstacles and challenges lie ahead. If soft power is about whose story wins—rather than whose army wins—then how China is constructing a narrative about itself for the world through media becomes a matter of paramount importance. In response to these recent developments, this volume aims to do a number of things. First, it will extend the scope of existing studies by exploring the formation of diasporic identities through media production, content, and consumption in regions/contexts that so far have been left unexamined. Whereas the 2006 volume covers the Chinese-language media in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, the current volume fills that book’s geographic gaps significantly by covering locations in Africa, South America, Europe, and the Caribbean, as well as hitherto unexamined parts of Southeast Asia. In many cases, this is the first time systematic studies of the Chinese media in these locations have been published. In contrast, there is a sizable body of scholarship on the Chinese diasporic media in the United States, and the 2006 book devotes two chapters to the Chinese-language media in the United States.2 But our objective is not merely to increase the geographic coverage, important as it is. We also want to significantly update the picture of the Chinese-language mediasphere by examining an array of new and emerging political, cultural, and economic forces that conspire to transform the contours of the Chinese media landscape. As most chapters in the volume make clear, the PRC state media have tried to forge partnerships and cooperation with ethnic Chinese media all over the world as part of the “going global” initiative. So the obvious questions are: has China’s soft power push had an impact on the nature and operation of media in the Chinese diaspora, and if so, how? Has the diasporic Chinese media’s coverage of China become more pro-China in recent years? It is our intention to provide locality-specific evidence in order to test the hypothesis that China’sefforts have already begun to bear fruit. In addition, we also want to take into account the significant development and proliferation of interactive, social-media-based communication and network-building practices among Chinese migrant communities. The 2006 volume establishes beyond doubt that diasporic Chinese-language newspapers and radio have a substantial history and to this day continue to play an important role in the cultural lives of migrants, particularly migrants from earlier generations. While still maintaining this central premise, we also want to find out whether the widespread use of digital media and online technologies— especially social media—has given rise to new forms of translocal practice, and whether and how such usage impacts upon diasporic subjects’ identity and sense of belonging. Introduction 3 Authors in this volume hail from a number of disciplines, including history, sociology, anthropology, and media and communication studies. While each adopts an approach that best suits her or his specific cases, their chapters are nevertheless united by a set of common empirical concerns. First, to a greater or lesser degree, each chapter includes useful background information on the history of migration; change and development in the political, economic, and cultural values of migration; the relations and dynamics between Chinese communities and their host nations, including their policies and practices toward migrants; and changes in demographic composition and currently dominant patterns of migration. Second, the chapters discuss changes and developments within diasporic Chinese-language media, including those areas in which there has been growth or decline. More specifically, they explore the emergence and transformation of media forms, practices, content, technological platforms, and communication patterns adopted by Chinese communities. Finally, all chapters consider diasporic individuals’ and communities’ evolving relations to China in emotional, cultural, and political terms. Of particular interest to us are two questions and their implications. First, are there are new forms of connection, collaboration, and partnership being forged between Chinese diasporic media and state Chinese media in response to China’s soft power push, and if so, what are they? Second, are new discourses, narratives, and languages of self-positioning emerging—again, in response to China’s initiatives to reach out to Chinese migrants—and if so, what are they?

China’s soft power and the decline of the old diasporic media network Following its success in hosting the Beijing Olympics and its failure to impress the Western world with its handling of human rights issues related to Tibet, China seems to have realized two things. First, there is a stark incon- gruence between China’s status as an economic power and its lack of influence through soft power (Hu and Ji 2012). Second, in order to contest the West’s hegemonic representations of China, China must reclaim its discursive autonomy so that it can tell the world China’s own story and let the world know and understand China from the Chinese perspective. Third, the media and communication sector forms the backbone of China’s soft power project and its “going global” efforts, yet it is also the weakest link in comparison with China’s initiatives in other domains such as the Confucius Institute, which promotes Chinese language and culture in educational institutions throughout the world (Wang C. 2011). Propelled by an urgent need to address these three problems, China has stepped up its public diplomacy efforts in the past decade, with its policies and objectives starting to become more detailed and explicit after the Olympic Games (Xiang 2013). Notably, in 2009, the central government announced its “going out” initiative to the tune of around US$6 billion (Hu and Ji 2012: 33). Dubbed either “going out” or “going global,” the soft power project is primarily intended to “gradually change China’s image in the international 4 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair society from negative to neutral to positive” (Y. Wang 2008: 269). More specifically, China wants to engage in soft power exercises to achieve four stated objectives: first, to encourage a wider understanding of its politics and policies, which are based on the principles of a “harmonious society” and “scientific development”; second, to be seen as a stable, reliable, and responsible economic partner that does not pose any threat; third, to be seen as a trustworthy and reliable member of the international community that is actively contributing to world peace; and fourth, to be acknowledged and respected for its contribution to culture and civilization (d’Hooghe 2008). To date, China’s strategy of harnessing the media to expand its global influence has taken a number of forms. These include pushing China’s key state media players—China Central Television (CCTV), Xinhua, China Radio International (CRI), and China Daily offshore (Cheng 2011a); signing formal content-sharing deals with the state or commercial media of foreign countries, mainly in Asia, Africa, and, to a lesser extent, South America (Sun 2010, 2014); forging partnerships with overseas Chinese media organizations that are operated by Chinese migrants; and targeting diasporic Chinese communities outside China. China now regards Chinese-language media outside China as a crucial intermediary and a key node in global communications, serving to relay China’s external propaganda content across the globe (Cheng 2011b). From the point of view of the Chinese Party-state, given the inherently “hostile” nature of foreign—especially Western—media, it seems logical to try and use ethnic Chinese communities and their media enterprises as a platform to access overseas Chinese audiences and, through them, mainstream society. It is China’s hope that overseas Chinese media will bridge the chasm between China and the West, help China promote its culture and values, and lobby for Chinese political and economic interests in migrants’ host countries. Jie chuan chu hai (to borrow someone’s vessel to go out to sea) is a metaphor that is often invoked by Chinese policy-makers to encapsulate the role of overseas Chinese media and organizations in China’s going global efforts. The Chinese government’s interest in mobilizing diasporic Chinese support is evidenced in a series of regular forums it organizes. The China News Service (CNS), China’s official news agency for external communication, operates under the auspices of the State Council of China’s Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (OCAO). Since 2001 CNS has hosted a biennial International Forum of Chinese- Language Media. In the 2001 Forum in Nanjing, attended by more than 130 Chinese media organizations from all over the world, the Director of OCAO, Guo Dongpo, thanked the overseas Chinese media for their contribution to “protecting the interests of overseas Chinese and the legacy of Chinese culture, the spread of Chinese civilization, the integration of Chinese immigrants within their local society, the economic and social development of their host country, and the friendly relationship between their host country and China.” In 2013, the new Director of the OCAO, Qiu Yuanping, used the seventh forum to explain Chinese President Xi Jinping’s concept of the “Chinese dream.” The concept, Qiu said, was created not only to encourage the citizens of China, Introduction 5 but also for all overseas Chinese. “The same ancestry and affection shared by the Chinese media worldwide are the foundations of their solidarity, influence, credibility, and right of speech.” She also hoped that the Chinese media abroad would publish objective reports on China and become “storytellers of real Chinese stories” (CNS 2013, paras 1 and 4). Given this extremely important and ongoing process unleashed by China’s going global project, what have been the responses of diasporic Chinese media organizations, and how do we account for the similarities and differences between various diasporic Chinese media organizations within and between diverse geographical localities? All chapters in this volume are to varying degrees and in different manifestations concerned with this new empirical question. The other side of this question is the impact that the going global project is having upon the existing diasporic Chinese media network. As a historically specific cultural phenomenon, this network is an integral part of the “ungrounded empire” of Chinese capitalism, which is global in scale and deterritorialized by definition (Ong and Nonini 1997). This global media network exists in the cultural margins of the major cities of Western countries— the most favored destinations for outbound migration from China since the early nineteenth century. As one of the most established “ethnic” identities in relation to mainstream society, diasporic Chinese communities in the West have for a long time been well equipped with their own Chinese business organizations, Chinese language schools, and Chinese-language media. As early as the 1960s, Sing Tao Daily in Hong Kong recognized the potential market in the West, and subsequently set up offices in selected cities in North America, Australia, and Europe. While Sing Tao Daily is a media conglomerate extending its influence from Hong Kong outwards, there is also World Journal, which represents the Taiwan-based United Daily News Group’s overseas expansion into North America that began in the mid-1970s. The North American diasporic Chinese media were thus segmented by place of origin: migrants from Taiwan read the World Journal, while those from Hong Kong read Sing Tao. They were also internally stratified along socioeconomic lines. For instance, although both Sing Tao Daily and Ming Pao were based in Hong Kong and both were available in North America, the latter was considered to be close to an elitist newspaper catering to middle- class business people, many of whom were young, educated professionals and executives with a higher income (So and Lee 1995). This old diasporic mediasphere was not just limited to print media, nor to the West. Television Broadcasts Limited (TVB), a Hong Kong-based provider of Chinese television, has been a major broadcaster, producer, and international distributor of television in the Chinese-speaking world since the 1970s (Curtin 2007; Wong 2009). These global media networks with headquarters in Hong Kong and Taiwan have existed in parallel with local Chinese-language media in various Chinese settler societies for many decades prior to the recent era of mass arrivals of immigrants from the PRC. However, despite internal differences, it is safe to say that traditionally these Chinese-language media 6 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair outlets have maintained a guarded—if not hostile—distance from Communist China. As shown by discussions of various locations in this volume such as South Africa (Sun), Cambodia (Nyíri), and some European countries such as Italy and Spain (Gong), there was an established tradition of local Chinese media prior to the recent wave of migration from the PRC. Although small in number and local in impact, these older generations of local Chinese media were also an integral part of the “diasporic Chinese public sphere” and were characterized by their independence from China. The global diasporic Chinese media network is an important theoretical concept as well as a material reality. For decades, the global diasporic Chinese media network has been considered to be a key site in the formation of a diasporic public sphere, which, though not rejecting all links to China, nevertheless wanted to de-center China in an attempt to carve out an alternative space of being Chinese (Ong and Nonini 1997). However, while actively seeking to maintain an independent position in relation to China in the past (Sun 2013), these diasporic media have found it increasingly difficult to deal with two challenges: dwindling audiences and a decline in economic viability. For these reasons, the arrival of Chinese-speaking migrants from the PRC in recent years has not only injected a much-needed boost to global audiences for Chinese- language media, but it has also brought resources and skills that were desperately needed to revive a declining media environment. Many Hong Kong- and Taiwan-based media outlets have been either driven out of the market by the new and growing presence of Chinese-language media outlets owned and operated by migrants from the PRC (Brady 2009), or they have had to adopt a more PRC-friendly position. Cash-strapped, and looking for ways to expand their businesses, some of these media outlets have found that forging partnerships with mainland Chinese media—including state media—has become an important option. The Mandarin-speaking market brought by the influx of PRC migrants is too big for existing Chinese media businesses to ignore. For instance, TVB, once catering to a predominantly Cantonese-speaking audience, now provides content from mainland China as well as from the Cantonese-speaking world. In 2012, Television Broadcasts China (TVBC) was established by three investors: TVB, China Media Capital (CMC), and Shanghai Media Group (SMG). While TVB sees this joint venture as extending its business footprint to the mainland Chinese market, SMG—being the second most influential television company in China—also sees it as an important step in constructing international platforms for China’s media content (TVBI 2012). This prompts two obvious questions. In view of China’s rise and its global ambitions, to what extent can the diasporic Chinese media that had long existed in the pre-PRC immigration era continue to maintain a critical or independent stance? And, perhaps more importantly, what new media platforms, forms, practices, and discourses have emerged from the new migrants from the PRC to radically alter this long-standing diasporic Chinese mediasphere? Introduction 7 Diaspora and transnationalism It takes little reflection on the extent and character of the Chinese diaspora to see how important the media are in constituting it as such. More enduring than other classic diasporas, that of the Chinese has been created by a dispersal of people out of Greater China into the rest of the world that is not just historical but also still very contemporary. As the chapters in this collection show, this dispersal reaches far beyond the familiar destinations in Southeast Asia and the West. A true diaspora, as this is, is not just any kind of international emigrant community. Migrants forming a community in any given host society might seek out links with their homeland, just as that homeland, whether through state or private interests, might actively remain in touch with its former citizens in the several host countries to which they have gone. This can be thought of as a kind of radial relationship, in which the interests in the homeland nation provide news services, and perhaps cultural content, in the various host nations for the benefit of appreciative emigrants, including their descendants. A diaspora, in addition to being structured in such a radial relationship, also has a lateral dimension: that is, members of a diaspora in any given host country are conscious of others like themselves in other countries, and there are channels of communication between them. Thus, in a diaspora, members of the community in each host nation have media that not only provide local cohesion and support but also act as a conduit to both the homeland and similar communities in other cities and countries. These lines of communication define both a material and a cultural geography of belonging: the media connect a physical world of migration and commerce at the same time as they sustain an “imagined community” on a transnational rather than a national scale. As Myria Georgiou (2007: 17) puts it: “Diasporas are transnational communities, which extensively depend on media and communication technologies for sustaining relations and connections across distance and across diverse sub-groups.” As noted, such connections were already achieved in the age of the “old” media of print and broadcasting. Yet it is highly pertinent in this context to observe that the capacity to communicate both radially and laterally across borders has been enhanced to an immeasurable extent by the advent of the Internet. The affordances of the Internet, whether as one-to-one or one-to-many communication, and its inherently interactive character, provide the members of a diaspora with a degree of agency never before known in the “old” media era. Global interconnectivity enables diasporic individuals to actively seek out media experiences for themselves and to share and critically discuss them with each other over social media platforms. Indeed, even more than the vastly expanded opportunities it provides for media communication as traditionally understood—news and entertainment—the Internet is an unprecedented medium for social networking, whether between individuals or in the formation and mobilization of groups. For example, intending migrants can check out and compare possible destinations with compatriots already living in them; families 8 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair that have settled in different countries can maintain contact online, sharing photos and such; and social movements can advocate for and recruit to their causes. In this light, Alonso and Oiarzabal (2010: 9) conceive of a “digital diaspora,” arguing that the Internet enables diasporas “to connect, maintain, create and re-create social ties and networks with both their homeland and their codispersed communities … to exchange instant factual information regardless of geographic distance and time zones … [and] to sustain and re-create diasporas as globally imagined communities.” Georgiou (2007) argues that the advent of such digital diasporas has “destabilised” the conventional “three-step” model of how media communication has hitherto been understood, that is, as “production-text-consumption,” the producers of content and its consumers. As the distinction between production and consumption becomes blurred— for example, in the rise of user-generated content—communication research is now presented with both theoretical and methodological challenges by the new “diasporic media cultures” (22–6). These circumstances call for an open-minded and grounded approach to specific diasporas and what is happening within them.

Chinese transnationalism A central theme in our exploration of diasporic Chinese media is the changing nature of Chinese transnationalism. In the theoretical literature on Chi- nese diaspora, Chinese transnationalism is understood to have three integral dimensions. The first dimension relates to the movement of people as well as the circulation of capital, ideas, media images, and communications and transport technologies across national borders. The second dimension emphasizes con- nectedness, flows, linkages, and networks marked by inequality and unevenness. More importantly, as Ong and Nonini (1997: 26) observe, Chinese transnationalism is often seen as “independent of place,”“self-consciously postmodern,” and “subversive of national regimes of truth.” Third, Chinese transnationalism implies a gradual and progressive distancing from one’s ancestral culture. As Shih (2007) argues, one’s cultural sensibility progressively and irreversibly moves further away from the culture one migrates from to the culture one migrates to, and this process is enabled by the formations of transnational identity, networks, practices, and, not the least importantly, imagination. These formations make it possible to talk about the Chinese diasporic media as part of the “Sinophone world,” contributing to a Sinophone culture that is a “place-based, local culture, in dialogue with other cultures of that location” (Shih, Tsai, and Bernards 2013: 8). Discussions about Chinese transnationalism, particularly those produced before the Beijing Olympic Games, tend to be celebratory in their narratives of the cultural and economic activities of the diasporic Chinese. Much of this is driven by a desire to de-center the PRC as the privileged site of analysis. The Sinophone world, according to Shih (2007), is inhabited by diasporic Chinese producers and audiences who no longer have any connection with mainland China. This Sinophone sensibility, argues Shih, is significant, as the process of Introduction 9 its identity construction resists Sino-centrism and debunks either a centrifugal or centripetal vision of China’s place in relation to diasporic Chinese communities. This intellectual agenda to de-privilege China in the project of accounting for Chinese transnationalism is perhaps most effectively executed in Ong and Nonini’s (1997) work on the cultural politics of modern Chinese transnationalism. They point to an “intersection and mixing of different flows of information, images, ideas, and peoples” in which “transnational publics provide alternatives to state ideologies for remaking identity,” and are “forming Chinese subjectivities that are increasingly independent of race, self-consciously postmodern, and subversive of national regimes of truth” (25–6). In other words, Chinese transnationalism, as an alternative to a Sino-centric vision of the Middle Kingdom surrounded by concentric circles of less authentic Chinese, is often embraced for its capacity to take into account a powerful set of political and cultural forces that exist independently of, and parallel with, the Party-state agenda of the PRC. The globalization of media and communication technologies, and the potential for deterritorialization and individuation that comes with this, seem to promise new horizons in furthering this desire for autonomy from China. In other words, Chinese transnationalism has been consistently marked by an insistence on de-centering China and treating the PRC as no more than a geographic node—to accord it an epistemological and intellectual status that is equal to, rather than higher than, other nodes and ways of being Chinese. Again, given the predominance of Mandarin- speaking migrants from the PRC, and given recent developments that clearly point to China’s intention to re-center itself, to what extent can the current transnationalist framework accommodate the rise of China, and how is this growing tension being played out in various diasporic locations? This question motivates the discussion in many chapters in the volume, albeit some more explicitly than others.

The chapters Accounts of nodes of the Chinese diaspora in Europe (Gong, Dai, and Chong; Chapters 4–6, respectively), Southeast Asia (Nyíri; Chapter 1), Africa (Sun; Chapter 2), and South America (Stenberg; Chapter 3) show that these Chinese communities make use of Chinese-language media for purposes similar to their counterparts elsewhere, as was documented in Sun (2006). First, the Chinese-language press reflects, represents, and often advocates on behalf of the political, economic, social, and cultural interests of Chinese communities in their host societies. Second, it plays an irreplaceable role in communicating crucial economic, legal, and educational information—the policies, rules, and regulations of the host country—to Chinese-speaking citizens and residents. Third, it serves the practical function of maintaining migrants’ command of the mother tongue through regular exposure to Chinese-language cultural products, and facilitates the identity formation of ethnic subjects in multicultural societies. 10 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair At the same time, there are significant variations due to the diverse history of migration, the size and composition of migrant populations, and migrants’ level of identification with the mainstream culture of their adopted country. This is demonstrated in Dai’s chapter on France, Gong’s chapter on Italy and Spain, Stenberg’s chapter on Brazil, and Sun’s chapter on South Africa. These chapters present, perhaps for the first time in the English language, empirical material on the history of Chinese migration and the development of the Chinese-language media in their respective locations, as well as exploring the symbiotic relationship between migration and media. Some places (South Africa, Cambodia, Italy, Spain, and the Netherlands, for instance) have never been endowed with the presence of earlier and independent Chinese media outlets such as Sing Tao Daily or TVB. Others—France and the United Kingdom, for instance—have been served by the presence of the global diasporic Chinese media network, and are now witnessing this independent sector being superseded or complemented by new media outlets run by PRC migrants. How- ever, despite this historical difference, these chapters make it abundantly clear that old media forms such as well-established newspapers are being given a new lease of life due to the widespread transition to online publishing. Most of the papers in the countries that are examined in this volume have developed an extensive and interactive online presence, thus enabling those dispersed Chinese readers who live outside metropolitan areas to access their news content, as well as be exposed to the advertising of services and businesses that is part and parcel of the content provided by these media outlets. These discussions confirm a common business strategy adopted by the Chinese-language papers in major world cities (Sun et al. 2011). The collection covers a wide range of media forms and communication practices, ranging from traditional print media to the latest social media. In comparison with newspapers, radio, and websites, the production of television programs requires much more substantial investment in funding, resources, and infrastructure, and is more subject to the regulatory media environment of the host countries. However, as the size and impact of Chinese migrant communities continue to grow, diasporic Chinese television is emerging as an increasingly common media form, especially within those societies that have a large Chinese migrant population. The success of Rainbow TV in Sydney is a good example. Interestingly, however, at this stage we have few insights on television production and reception in Chinese migrant communities. This is despite the fact that as early as the 1990s, local Chinese television had entered the diasporic sphere and changed the television market of North America (Deng and Zhang 2009). Kong’s contribution (Chapter 8) on Fairchild TV in Vancouver goes some way toward filling this gap. It provides a timely glimpse of how television negotiates China’s rise, migrants’ changing allegiances, and the implications of these factors for the question of multicultural citizenship in specific geo-localities. The diasporic Chinese mediasphere has become complex and intricate not only because of the blurred distinction between the Chinese state media and Introduction 11 diasporic media, but also because we are now also beginning to witness the emergence of Chinese-language services and outlets provided by major Western media organizations with global impact—such as the BBC, Financial Times, Wall Street Journal, and Bloomberg. The implications of this emerging new dimension, which hitherto has not been considered, are taken up by Tong in her discussion of the Chinese “Have Your Say” forum run by the BBC (Chapter 7). To migrant communities all over the world, the Internet has been a most powerful tool in negotiating transnational identities. The Chinese diaspora is no exception. At the same time, the Internet’s capacity for deterritorialization has also brought up the possibility of the diasporic public sphere becoming eroded by the PRC’sinfluence. Ip and Yin’s research (Chapter 9) demonstrates that the Chinese cybersphere is one of the largest and most active in the world. Despite the close connection now established between migration, translocal practices, and the use of new media, there has been little ethnographic insight generated into how such usage becomes an integral aspect of migrants’ everyday spatiotemporal experience. Sinanan’s fine-grained ethnography of everyday work and life among some Chinese migrants in Trinidad (Chapter 11) does precisely that. Taking readers into the domestic and work spaces of a Chinese family in Trinidad, she shows us that by using the video- calling capabilities of social media platforms such as Skype and QQ, migrants are, on a daily basis, negotiating new long-distance relationships with their families “back at home.” Further, by regularly consuming films and television programs from China via WiFi and 3G Internet on mobile devices, the Chi- nese in Trinidad are also reconnecting with the “mediascapes” of the homeland. We thus learn from Sinanan’s discussion that these new technological devices are not merely an augmentation of existing family relationships; they are constitutive of them. An important and recurrent theme in diasporic media studies is the formation of diasporic identities through the production and consumption of diasporic media. In the case of the Chinese diaspora, against the backdrop of China’s rise and its soft power initiatives, the inevitable question is whether emerging diasporic Chinese discourses are able to maintain their ideological and political distance from the PRC. Or, to put it in another way, whether China’s political agenda has infiltrated the diasporic Chinese consciousness. Although not uniform and unanimous in their findings, some chapters in the volume clearly point to a process that testifies to the latter outcome. This is confirmed by both Chong’s analysis of the content and sources of news in Chinese newspapers in the Netherlands, and Ip and Yin’s analysis of “cyber China” discourses in the New Zealand context. While the two cases differ in terms of locality, technological platform, and focus of investigation, they concur in concluding that current diasporic communities’ discourses are greatly influenced and shaped by those from the PRC. Several chapters in the volume have gone some way toward destabilizing the traditional concept of the “migrant” and “migration.” Many new migrants from the PRC are business entrepreneurs, and, riding on the wave of 12 Wanning Sun and John Sinclair China’s rise as an economic power house, these new migrants in various countries shuttle between the motherland and the host societies to which they migrate. For them, the Chinese-language media not only function to reflect their cultural and economic interests and relay the views of host society and migrant community to each other. More importantly, as Nyíri’s discussion of the Cambodian case suggests, they are also a most visible platform on which new migrants from the PRC continually pledge their ideological allegiance to and cultural connection with China. Nyíri believes that Cambodia is akin to Eastern European societies, where the contemporary politics of Chinese ethnicity is also significantly shaped by relations with the PRC. He observes that the PRC influence tends to be stronger with societies that do not have a long and established history of Chinese migration or a multicultural ideology. A few chapters in this volume (Sun on South Africa, Gong on Italy and Spain, and Chong on the Netherlands) seem to lend weight to this argument. Furthermore, migration is no longer a one-way ticket; it is more often than not a contingent circuit of arrival, sojourn, and return. Leong’s contribution (Chapter 10) on potential Chinese business migrants to Perth, Western Australia, shows us how social media step in to assist some migrants in negotiating their “conditional modes of existence” and a sense of “conditional belonging.” It is a timely case study of the unintended synergy between new migration practice and new communication practice.

Notes 1 We would like to acknowledge the support and encouragement of Stephanie Hemelryk Donald in her role as the series editor for this volume. John Alexander assisted in the translation and language polishing of two chapters in the book, and James Beattie was both meticulous and thorough in the ﬁnal editing and preparation of the manuscript. And thanks to all our contributors hailing from diﬀerent continents, most importantly for their collegiality, understanding, and willingness to deliver drafts on time. 2 For historical accounts of the Chinese media in the United States, see, for instance, X. Zhao (2006) and Lo and Lai (1977). Also see Lai (1990). For research on more recent developments in the Chinese press in the United States, see, for instance, Zhou and Cai (2002) and Zhou, Chen, and Cai (2006). Research on Chinese television in the United States, especially TVB, can be found in Lee (2009), Wong (2009), and Zhu (2009).

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Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. 1 “New Migrants” from the PRC and the Transformation of Chinese Media The case of Cambodia1

Nyíri Pál

Since the 1980s, the emergence of mainland China as a source of readers, contributors, content, investment, and advertising for Chinese-language media overseas has had diﬀerent implications for those settler societies with provision for multilingual local media as part of multicultural policies or practices, such as Canada, the United States, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa; for societies with established local traditions of Chinese media, such as those in Southeast Asia and parts of Western Europe and the Paciﬁc; and for societies where Chinese media had not existed or existed in a very limited form before a recent wave of migration from the People’s Republic of China (PRC). This chapter, based on four research trips between 2008 and 2013, focuses on the case of Cambodia, where a tradition of local Chinese media has existed since the early twentieth century but was interrupted by anti-Chinese policies and warfare between 1970 and 1990. While the Cam- bodian case is in some ways unique, I will suggest that the impact of post- Cold War migration from China on media development shows parallels to countries where no prior tradition of Chinese media exists, such as in Eastern Europe.

The politics of Chinese ethnicity in contemporary Cambodia “Today, no one identifies themselves as Chinese in Kampuchea,” wrote anthropologist William Willmott in 1981 (1981: 45). He was referring both to the physical decimation—through killing, starvation, and flight—of the once thriving Chinese-Cambodian (or Sino-Khmer)2 population under the Khmer Rouge regime (1977–79) and to the fact that those who remained in the country faced discrimination and a de facto ban on public displays of ethnicity, such as schools or festivals, until the withdrawal of Vietnamese troops in 1990. Between Lon Nol’s coup in 1970 and 1990, being Chinese in Cambodia was a private, and for much of that time dangerous and therefore hidden, matter. A generation whose parents were principally Teochew speakers but usually educated in Mandarin or French grew up speaking Khmer.3 The Vietnamese withdrawal and the removal of Soviet backing for the Vietnamese-installed Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) government prompted 16 Nyíri Pál the rulers to scramble for domestic legitimacy and seek ways to avoid economic collapse. This simultaneously sparked the rapid resurgence of Chinese ethnicity and the beginning of a new migration from China. The infamous Circular 351, under which people of Chinese descent were discriminated against in job allocations, was rescinded; private business was permitted, as were ethnic minority associations. As shops reopened, business was reidenti- fied with Chinese ethnicity through markers such as couplets in Chinese characters or small altars to the god of wealth. Along with masses of refugees, a few enterprising Sino-Khmer businessmen returned from Vietnam and laid the groundwork for later fortunes by engaging in largely unregulated cross-border commerce. A trickle of returning refugees began from farther afield—Thailand, Hong Kong, France, and the United States—and expanded over the years (Wijers 2013). In a few years, parts of Phnom Penh, one-third of whose pre-1977 population was estimated to be Sino-Khmer (Willmott 1967: 16), were once again visually dominated by Chinese shop signs. In 1990, one of the CPP’s leaders, Chea Sim, president of the National Assembly and of Chinese descent, invited eleven Chinese-Cambodian businessmen to his office and encouraged them to form an association that came to be known as the Association of Chinese in Cambodia (ACC—Jianhua lishizonghui; Tan 2006: 188). “Most Khmers want to be government officials; they don’t like business and are not good at it,” a publication of the ACC quotes Chea Sim as saying. “You should unite and liaise with your relatives and friends overseas, attract foreign investment and become a bridge to developing the economy” (Yang 2003). This deal—the CPP encourages Chinese- Cambodians to pursue wealth and stay out of politics, offering successful businessmen political protection in return for expected financial support (cf. Hughes and Kheang 2011)—largely outlasted the pluralization of Cambodian politics during the United Nations intervention (1992/3) and the first period of the restored monarchy (1993–97) and became further entrenched after 1997, when the CPP returned to power by ousting its senior partner, the roy- alists, from a coalition government, and Chea Sim became president of the legislature once again—a post he has retained ever since. To a large extent it has shaped the politics of Chinese ethnicity. The ACC was to function as the umbrella of the five dialect-based associations (huiguan) that had existed in the French colonial era and were being revived. Duong Chhiv, president of the Teochew association, the largest of the five, became president of the ACC and has remained in the post since its founding. Local Chinese associations that formed across the country after 1990 were gradually absorbed by the ACC as local chapters. The ACC had precursors both under the French and in the postcolonial era before Lon Nol’s coup, but it also fitted with the model of “democratic centralism” employed by Leninist parties across the state socialist countries. Indeed, one of Chea Sim’s tasks in the Soviet-allied Cambodian Party-state (1979–91) was “united front work,” or outreach to constituencies outside the Party: a fact no doubt related to his Chinese ethnicity and hence his presumed ability to build The case of Cambodia 17 connections with the more urban and educated segments of Cambodian society that had been criminalized under the Khmer Rouge. The ACC, with its quasi-official status as an intermediary between the government and all ethnic Chinese—one of its publications describes it as “the highest leadership organ of … Chinese in Cambodia” (Qiu 2003)—was a product of united front politics that has remained untouched by the trappings of multiparty democracy. While Duong Chhiv cautions Chinese-Cambodians that they “shouldn’t meddle with politics” (bu gao zhengzhi) or get involved in the disputes of Cambodian parties (Xing 2008: 375), the continued closeness of the ACC leadership to the CPP is by no means hidden: the walls of its offices are adorned with Duong Chhiv’s photographs taken with Prime Minister Hun Sen, the country’s leader between 1979 and 1993 and again since 1997. Both the rise of China as the CPP’s political patron from the mid-1990s onward and its role as Cambodia’s largest investor from the late 2000s have influenced the politics of Chinese ethnicity, but the Chinese government made high-profile public overtures to Chinese-Cambodians as early as 1995, little more than fifteen years after Chinese technical experts assisted the Khmer Rouge in their takeover of the country, to which most Chinese-Cambodians fell victim. In the early 1990s, Chinese-Cambodians were still distrustful of and antagonistic toward visiting Chinese officials, even organizing demonstrations protesting their visits (Edwards 2002). But by 1995, Li Ruihuan, a highly ranked member of the Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), visited Phnom Penh and addressed ACC leaders as “our … married daughters,” calling Cambodia “their second home country” (Nyíri 2013). The fact that these somewhat inappropriate comments—considering both recent history and the fact that ACC members are required to be Cambodian-born—were made and publicized suggested that times were changing. Both China’s and Cambodia’s leaders were now inter- pellating Chinese-Cambodians and framing them as conduits of friendly political and economic relations. Soon, the ACC and its constituent organizations were reframing themselves as “a bridge to foreign trade, enjoying the ever-strengthening trust of successive [Cambodian and Chinese] governments” (Yang 2003). The ACC numbers two serving CPP ministers and a Chinese-Cambodian tycoon who is also a CPP senator among its honorary advisors. Just as the ACC is regarded as the single representative of Chinese- Cambodians, the Cambodian Chinese Chamber of Commerce (CCCC, Jianpuzhai Zhongguo shanghui), founded in 1996, is seen as speaking for investors—both private entrepreneurs and managers of state-owned companies—from mainland China. Its president is a prominent private businessman who has acquired Cambodian citizenship, while its general secretary is the head of the Cambodian branch of the Bank of China. (The China Hong Kong Taiwan and Macau Expatriate and Business Association of Cambodia [Jianpuzhai Zhongguo Gang- Ao-Tai qiaoshang zonghui] is treated as the representative of ethnic Chinese businessmen from Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, Malaysia, and Singapore, but a separate Taiwanese chamber of commerce also exists.) The latest wave of Chinese migration to Cambodia started as early as 1991, when the Khmer 18 Nyíri Pál Rouge were still ensconced in their jungle holdouts, but Cambodia opened its markets and borders, and there was great demand for consumer goods. At the time, China was suffering from a recession compounded by a production glut. State enterprises encouraged their employees to take voluntary retrenchment and seek new markets for their products, including beyond China’s borders. The future of the private sector was surrounded by uncertainty, causing private entrepreneurs, too, to seek options abroad. Cambodia, along with Eastern Europe but unlike most other places in the world, was easy to reach and enter for PRC citizens, and offered a ready market for cheap consumer goods (cf. Nyíri 2011). While there are no reliable figures on this migration, a consular official at the Chinese embassy estimated the number of PRC citizens in the country to be 70–80 thousand in 2013; this is roughly in the middle of the range of estimates by Chinese journalists and association leaders and in line with the estimate by scholar Zhuang Guotu (Zhuang 2008). (In comparison, the population of Chinese-Cambodians is usually estimated to be between 500 and 700 thousand.) While small-scale trade remains their most important occupation, some have succeeded in moving to more profitable and specialized niches, for example the import and distribution of scooters or construction materials or the construction industry itself, particularly as subcontractors to large-scale infrastructural projects carried out by investors from China or with concessional loans or grants from the Chinese state. Others have set up real estate agencies, investment consultancies, media companies, and other businesses whose main function is to locate investment opportunities, broker deals, find patronage connections, arrange official permits, and sometimes recruit labor for investors in China, and, conversely, to secure financing in China for state and private development projects in Cambodia. In addition to the CCCC, there are now over a dozen associations founded by new migrants. Since their main function is to further members’ business interests (rather than, for example, to defend their rights), they seek to maintain good relations both with the Cambodian government and especially with the Chinese embassy and provincial and municipal governments of the Chinese localities from which their members hail. (It is said that when China’s current ambassador took up her post, CCCC leaders booked tickets on the plane she took from Beijing so as to be able to claim that they had accompanied her.) Related to this, the associations serve as hosts and interlocutors for official and business delegations from China. In all these respects, they resemble associations set up by recent Chinese entrepreneurial migrants in other countries, particularly in Eastern Europe and Africa (Nyíri 2011). These organizations, too, cultivate CPP officials—the association of migrants from Hunan Province has a secret service general among its advisors, and its ping pong cup is named after Heng Samrin, the third member of the CPP’s leading triumvirate—but they have little presence in the Khmer-language public sphere aside from the publicity they gain by making donations to charitable causes, especially the Cambodian Red Cross, which is run by Hun Sen’s wife. Their public identity is therefore framed solely in Chinese-language media and in occasional large-scale public The case of Cambodia 19 events—typically celebrations of traditional Chinese or official PRC holidays— which generally feature officials from the Chinese embassy and the national anthems of both Cambodia and China. What is striking about the language and visual imagery of these presentations is the overwhelming presence of a Chinese national symbolism that conforms to the PRC’sofficial discourse of nation- hood. The choreography of such events seems to take its cues from China Central Television’s (CCTV) Spring Festival Gala, the most important media event in the mainland that symbolizes the unity of the Chinese nation, including its overseas members (Sun 2007; Lü 2009). It is quite distinct from events organized by more traditional overseas Chinese associations, but strikingly similar among new migrant organizations across continents (Nyíri 2009). The Hunan association’s founding ceremony in 2013 began with a slide show accompanied by 1950s revolutionary songs that featured prominent natives of the province, beginning with Mao Zedong and ending with the popular army singer Song Zuying, rumored to be the mistress of former Party leader Jiang Zemin. Although the distinction between the constituencies of “old” and “new” Chinese associations—the former represent Chinese citizens, the latter Cambodians—is frequently emphasized, in practice, the differences in the political fields within which they operate are narrowing. Increasingly, “old” associations also maintain close relations with the Chinese embassy and deploy references to a Chineseness infused with the state symbols of the contemporary PRC. Ahead of the Taiwanese presidential elections in 2008, “at the embassy’s suggestion,” the three large associations and numerous smaller ones joined in establishing the Cambodian branch of a global organization called Association for the Peaceful Reunification of China (Zhongguo heping tongyi cuijinhui), established at the behest of the CCP’s United Front Department to garner support among Chinese overseas for China’s Taiwan policy (see Nyíri 2010: 54–56). Duong Chhiv is the chairman of the Cambodian branch, while executives of the CCCC and the Hong Kong and Macau Associations are all represented in the leadership. Since all associations have dozens of honorary presidents and advisors, there is a great deal of “overlapping leadership” between them, which incorporates new migrants’ associations and the more traditional ones into the same nested structures observed by Lawrence Crissman among overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia (Crissman 1967). The three organizational elites are also linked through business and personal ties: for example, the country manager of China Shipping, one of the most important Chinese state enterprises operating in Cambodia, is a vice-president of the Hong Kong Business Association and a board member of the Association for Peaceful Reunification. CCCC’s chairman is a well-known businessman who has in fact acquired Cambodian citizenship and the noble title of oknha, while its secretary-general is the head of the local branch of the Bank of China. The textual and visual language in which the ACC expresses its identity is also inching closer to that used by new associations. A booklet issued to celebrate its thirteenth anniversary in 2003 began with full-page congratulations from 20 Nyíri Pál Chea Sim, Hun Sen, and the Chinese embassy, followed by those from officials of the central, provincial, and municipal governments in China, and contained photos of Duong Chhiv with Hun Sen and Jiang Zemin. There are photos from two “root-seeking voyages” to China, in Tiananmen Square, and from a National Day celebration in Guangzhou. There are also chapters on the “ten great marshals” and “ten great generals” of the Red Army, familiar from the CCP’sofficial histories. Although these references are not entirely new to Cambodia—in the 1960s, at a time of friendship with China, Mao Zedong Thought was taught at the country’s Chinese schools—it is nonetheless a stark departure from the usual politics of Chinese ethnicity in Southeast Asia, which tends to be formulated within the framework of local nation-state symbols. In sum, the public politics of Chinese ethnicity in Cambodia is increasingly constructed not as a matter of celebrating ancestral origins or demanding rights in an officially multicultural society, as it is elsewhere in Southeast Asia, but rather within a transnational field that embraces the Party-state-nation rhetoric of both the CPP and the PRC, which are similar as they share both the heritage of Bolshevik propaganda work and the way they have embraced nationalism. In this narrative, Cambodia’s ethnic Chinese are celebrated as conduits of economic and political ties between two friendly nations, to both of which they owe a certain allegiance. We may, in other words, be seeing a return to an identity politics in which, as at the turn of the twentieth century, being Chinese is defined in relation to a territorial Chinese state (cf. Karl 2002; Vasantkumar 2012: 438). It goes without saying that, notwithstanding their claim to do so, neither the ACC and its constituent organizations nor the CCCC and its members represent everyone in Cambodia who is of Chinese descent. Younger, educated, urban Chinese-Cambodians are unlikely to be attracted by the ACC’s formal banquets and the speeches of aging leaders. For many of them, Chi- neseness is a private issue and not a resource, therefore they are less likely to be susceptible to shifts in the discourse of what makes a Chinese person. Many mainland Chinese migrants, for their part, see the CCCC as nothing more than a bunch of wealthy, self-serving businessmen. Of particular note is the highly vocal founder of the Chinese Initiative for International Criminal Justice (www.ciicj.com), Y.Michael Liu, a young lawyer formerly based in Beijing who came to Cambodia in 2012, and who obtained accreditation as an independent observer of the 2013 general election and as a victim lawyer at the international court for Khmer Rouge crimes. He has been a vocal contributor to both Chinese- and English-language media, measuredly critical of the CPP government and the support it receives from China, and advising the opposition on its relations with China. Simultaneously, he has established himself as an amateur researcher of Chinese in Cambodia who wants to testify to the diversity of their life stories, organizing a photo exhibition and an accompanying website (www.chineseandcambodia.com), and pursuing an agenda of justice for Chinese who were persecuted by the Khmer Rouge. Even so, the version of Chineseness articulated by the ACC is nearly hegemonic: there is no ethnically defined The case of Cambodia 21 public sphere outside that which is dominated by it and its affiliates. There are no ethnic parties, and although several leaders of the main opposition party are known to be of Chinese descent (and have lately given assurances of friendship to China), this is not part of its political persona, as the party’s hallmark is a combination of a discourse of civil rights and nativism. There are no independent Chinese schools (all schools are run by ACC affiliates) or cultural organizations. While the history of Chinese migration to Cambodia and the embedding of ethnic Chinese in Cambodian society strongly resemble Thailand, the contemporary politics of Chinese ethnicity is in some ways more reminiscent of Eastern European societies—and others that lack both a history of Chinese migration and a multicultural ideology—in the sense that they are dominated by an organizational agenda-setting and identity performances that are very largely defined by relations with the PRC. Although Cambodia shares with Indonesia a history of ethnic persecution and forced assimilation that ended only with the demise of dictatorship in the 1990s, the evolution of Chinese ethnic politics has since taken a very different path. While the public revival of Chinese ethnicity in Indonesia has been accompanied by the emergence of claims-making based on ethnic rights within a discourse of democratic citizenship (e.g. Hoon 2008), in Cambodia it has developed within the matrix defined by the CPP, the same party that previously suppressed it. Such a path has been cemented by a weak economic foundation and a scarcity of opportunities for upward mobility, with China seen as the most likely source of social and cultural capital for Chinese-Cambodians.

The transformation of Chinese news media in Cambodia Chinese-language media organizations in Cambodia include five newspapers, two magazines (one of which is a free advertising magazine), one radio station, as well as a handful of Internet portals that largely target tourists and businesspeople in China. There are no specialized local Chinese-language social media portals; those who frequent Chinese-language social media use either Chinese (e.g. Sina Weibo, Tencent/QQ, WeChat) or Western (Facebook, Twitter) providers. In the following, I limit my discussion to news media; nonetheless, the popularity of mainland China-based portals among those young Cambodian Chinese who regularly consume Chinese-language media is significant for the discussion. There is currently no local television station in Cambodia broadcasting in Chinese, but standard cable packages include a number of Chinese-language stations based in mainland China (including not only CCTV-4, the international Chinese-language channel of the national broadcaster, but also several provincial stations), two based in Taiwan, and one based in Hong Kong, namely Phoenix, a Mandarin-language station that mostly targets a mainland viewership and stays close to China’sofficial discourse in political matters. Cantonese- language Hong Kong stations with more critical views of the mainland are not available.4 22 Nyíri Pál The only Chinese-language radio station is Cambodia-China Friendship Radio, one of numerous local stations worldwide run by China Radio Inter- national (CRI), the PRC station responsible for foreign broadcasts. CRI began cooperating with the Cambodian state radio in 2008 by broadcasting programs made in Beijing in Khmer, Mandarin, Teochew, and English on an FM frequency. Since 2011 they have had a studio in Phnom Penh that makes programs locally and broadcasts directly seven hours per day with a staff of 15, three of whom, including the director, are sent from China. The rest of the programs are made in Beijing. Newspapers have much more of a public profile. Although their circulation is small (self-reported circulation ranges from six to ten thousand, but this is seen as highly inflated),5 they are perceived as influential because they are distributed to all main venues of public Chinese life from restaurants to the embassy and are read by Chinese-speaking investors. With the exception of Sin Chew Jit Poh, which is part of a Malaysian press group, all are owned by prominent businessmen, for whom they are vehicles for raising their own public profile, brokering information, and attracting capital. As an editor explained, a newspaper’s main function is to “serve the boss,” whose main business interests are in other spheres. For Chinese officials and investors who come to Cambodia looking for investments opportunities, print carries authority and signals the status and credibility of the owner. For this reason, new papers regularly appear, even though most are unprofitable, but most media investors have little interest in developing online content since it does not have the same weight in their eyes. Commercial News (Huashang Ribao), the oldest and best- established paper though only claiming a circulation of six thousand, was founded in 1993 and is owned by Pung Kheav Se, the proprietor of Canadia Bank and a real estate magnate who has developed a reputation for his support for Chinese schools and charitable activities among Chinese-Cambodians since he returned from Canada in the early 1990s. Jian Hua Daily (Jianhua Ribao) belongs to the ACC and is financed by Duong Chhiv; Sin Chew Daily (Xinzhou Ribao), the only paper to transliterate its title according to the Cantonese rather than the Mandarin pronunciation, is Malaysian-owned; Phnom Penh Evening News (Jinbian Wanbao), launched in 2010 and targeting businesses and migrants from China, is published by the CCCC and was initially cofinanced by a state- owned enterprise from Guangxi Province that manufactures agricultural machinery and set up a sales office in Cambodia; and the youngest paper, Khmer Daily (Gaomian Ribao), is owned by the Khmer Holding of Cao Yunde, a mercurial former official from China who has invested in Cambodian mines, acquired Cambodian citizenship and the title of oknha, and is an advisor to Chea Sim. Khmer Daily is unique in that it also has a Khmer edition, and much of its Chinese edition is taken up by articles translated from the Khmer. Journalists from China played a prominent role in setting up both Phnom Penh Evening Post and Khmer Daily. A journalist from Liuzhou Daily, the main official paper in Liuzhou, the city in Guangxi where the machinery manufacturer is based, was invited to be editor-in-chief of the former. He The case of Cambodia 23 returned to China after less than a year but was followed by his former deputy, who had also arrived from Guangxi. The paper has one more journalist from China on the staff, while the rest are locally recruited Sino-Khmer, whom the paper sometimes sends to China for training. In addition, journalists from China sometimes come for short-term stays. Next to stories about Chinese investments and aid projects and local stories written by the staff, the paper carries news and entertainment items picked up from mainland Chinese news agencies and Internet portals such as Xinhuanet.com, People.com.cn, and Sina.com.cn. In 2011, the paper ran a series about the history of the CCP, timed to coincide with the Party’s ninetieth anniversary celebrations. Khmer Daily, which claims a circulation of 2,500 and is mostly distributed free of charge—including to members of parliament and Cambodian embassies abroad—and which also publishes the bilingual monthly Khmer Economy, has followed a different strategy. According to an editor, it defines itself as an “official paper” (guanbao, a term used in China to denote newspapers directly representing the voice of the central or local government, in contradistinction to the more commercialized “metropolitan papers,” du shi bao) while the other Chinese papers are “metropolitan papers.” Like Jian Hua Daily, Khmer Daily is a broadsheet, while the other papers are tabloids; but Khmer Daily has been supporting the CPP even more openly than Jian Hua Daily. Khmer Economy published a photograph in which the paper’s owner, Cao Yunde, appeared just behind Hun Sen, Chea Sim, and Heng Samrin at a CPP election rally. Khmer Daily’s editor-in-chief is an experienced Chinese-Cambodian journalist, but a senior editor, Xing Heping, is the former Cambodian corre- spondent for China’sofficial Xinhua news agency. Xing has published a flattering biography of Hun Sen (Xing 2008) and predicted a “landslide” (yadaoxing de) CPP victory in the 2013 election in the July issue of Khmer Economy. (By the official count, contested by the opposition, the CPP ended up winning by a narrow margin.) In addition, at the time of its launch Khmer Daily recruited five young editors from mainland China, only one of whom—hired just after she graduated—had trained as a journalist. Within a year, three of them resigned and went back to China. The paper also employs a number of Khmer staff, most of them moonlighting from the official Kampuchea News Agency. Khmer Daily claims to have more original content, less entertainment and less advertising than Phnom Penh Evening Post, but it too has a high share of content taken from the main Chinese Internet portals and steers clear of critical commentary. The main job of the editors from China is choosing and rewriting material from wire services such as Xinhua and China News Ser- vice. One editor commented that the bulk of her work consists of replacing terms such as wo guo (our country) with Zhongguo (China), Guowuyuan (State Council) with Zhongguo Guowuyuan (China’s State Council), and so on. Occasionally, she uses other online news sources such as the Reuters Chinese wire and the Wall Street Journal’s Chinese edition. This is typical for media run by new Chinese migrants anywhere (see Nyíri 2010: 56–8). But Cambodia’stwooldest,“local” Chinese newspapers increasingly 24 Nyíri Pál share these characteristics. This is due to a growing number of mainland Chinese journalists and editors, training in China offered to local journalists, and a rising share of content from mainland Chinese sources that are accelerating a shift away from a distinctive local Chinese usage toward that of the People’s Republic. In 2000, Commercial News hired a migrant from China as its editor-in-chief. “Severe shortage of human resources” locally is the reason his Cambodian-Chinese deputy gave for this decision. Yet in fact the editor, Liu Xiaoguang, was not a professional newspaperman; although he had published a novel in his youth, he first came to Cambodia in 1998 to import clothing. Rather, his appointment seems to have been driven by a general preference for individuals with tertiary education from China over locals, who generally have only secondary education, for jobs that require language and cultural skills, creativity, or technical competence. These individuals are also seen as representing an “authentic” Chinese culture with which locally born Chinese are increasingly out of touch and need to be reacquainted—a view that appears to have been largely internalized by Cambodian Chinese. As a young Cambodian-Chinese teacher told me, Chinese-Cambodians “may be okay as journalists, but they don’t have the level of language needed for an editor-in-chief.” A veteran Cambodian-Chinese journalist who admitted to having little affection for her colleagues from the PRC nonetheless agreed that hiring them was necessary because there were no qualified local candidates. Commercial Daily has four other editors and two journalists from China, as well as five local journalists. All of those from China are in their twenties and thirties and have no previous media experience, while the local staff are experienced journalists. When Liu quit in 2012, the paper’s owner appointed one of the journalists from China, Shen Kaidong, as editor-in-chief. From Hunan Province in China, Shen had studied psychology in Japan and came to Cambodia in 2010 as a tourist. He decided to stay and soon joined Commercial Daily. Under his editorship, Commercial Daily became the first newspaper in Cambodia to enter mobile media with a page on China’s most popular mobile application, WeChat, and as of mid-2013 had 5,000 followers. Liu Xiaoguang acknowledges that the media coverage of China has changed the way second- and third-generation Chinese-Cambodians see the country: “If we didn’t present it in this [positive] way, they might never go back [to China], they might think it is still a poor place.” As much as half of Commercial Daily’s coverage is devoted to coverage of China, with news items taken exclusively from Xinhua, the official Chinese news agency, whose political vocabulary would have been unfamiliar to a Cambodian readership a few years earlier but has now been internalized by some of the local staff: such knowledge constitutes cultural capital that leads to new opportunities within the media. For example, one journalist, who started his career in 2003 with Sin Chew Daily and moved to Commercial Daily in 2011, was recruited by the owner of Khmer Daily to help him set up the paper probably because he was both extensively connected to the Cambodian media scene and has successfully mastered the language of official Chinese media: he peppers his conversation with terms like The case of Cambodia 25 guojia lingdao (state leaders) and shehui gongxian (contribution to society). Some of Commercial Daily’s articles, though locally written, appear to have a readership in China in mind: for example, a feature story from 2007 about Chinese engineers constructing a road in Cambodia states that “Cambodia lies in the tropics.” Three or four years ago, the paper switched to simplified characters, partly to cater to an increasing share of recent migrants, partly for the students who learn simplified characters at school, and partly because the typesetting system they use is from mainland China. Jian Hua Daily, too, has recent migrants from China on its staff. As at the other papers, some of them were recruited directly in China through personal acquaintanceships: one, a junior editor, came to Cambodia right after graduating from university because he was unable to find a job in China and had an aunt living in Phnom Penh. As the official newspaper of an organization that is in some ways part of the Cambodian Party-state, Jian Hua’s mission includes “strengthen[ing of] positive propaganda, dampen[ing] the effect of negative news,” and, as “regard[s] questions that are sensitive or whose nature has not yet been determined [wei dingxing de] … follow[ing] the Royal Government’s position and attitude,”“correctly guiding discourse” and “playing the role of a bridge in foreign trade” (Jian Hua Daily 2006: 234). This is language that could have equally been taken from pre-1990 Cambodian or Vietnamese guidelines on the press or the CCP’s current propaganda regulations. At the same time, Jian Hua Daily devotes front-page articles to the PRC’sofficial celebrations. The young mainland Chinese editor told me that the paper would not publish any material that was “against China’s interests,” and that regular dinners with officials from the Chinese embassy provided informal guidance on what these interests were to aid in covering particular news stories. A Khmer Daily editor said the paper “cooperated with the embassy” (peihe shiguan gongzuo) but that it received no calls from them regarding content of articles, because the embassy was reassured (fangxin) that, under the guidance of former Xinhua reporter Xing Heping, they would not publish things that offended (dezui) China. But a mainland Chinese journalist said she sometimes seeks advice from current Xinhua journalists stationed in Cambodia on how to report stories that seem sensitive (e.g. when a shipment of Chinese arms was delivered just after the contested election). The only paper that communicates a somewhat different version of what being Chinese means and operates with a different business model is Sin Chew Daily. Among journalists, it is generally regarded as the most professionally run paper, and is seen as treating its staff best in terms of providing training, equipment, annual leave, and health insurance as required by law, as well as adequate financing for reporting trips. Sin Chew belongs to a group that also owns the Hong Kong daily Ming Pao, known for its critical stance toward the mainland government, and the popular newsweekly Yazhou Zhoukan. As regards Cambodian politics, Sin Chew’s stance is by far the most critical of the government among the Chinese papers, although this does not mean that its journalists are necessarily supporters of the opposition or of 26 Nyíri Pál liberal democracy. Sin Chew’s relationship with the Chinese embassy is pre- dictably frosty, but some journalists at other papers mentioned that a recent article that has particularly irked the embassy resulted in the departure of some journalists from the paper. However, it has not been possible to verify this story, nor is it clear whether Sin Chew’s political stance has in fact had an impact—either negative or positive—on its business.

Media pluralism and the framing of ethnic identity Cambodia’s Chinese media are losing their distinctiveness. The influx of content, investment, and staff from mainland China makes them increasingly like media serving the flow of Chinese migrants and money elsewhere. In Cambodia, where local Chinese media do have a history but lack resources and operate under severe political constraints, local ways of articulating ethnic identity and political agendas are particularly susceptible to being supplanted by a textual and visual canon that is seen as both more authentically Chinese and more modern. Incidentally, this process facilitates a recent development in which Chi- nese media overseas have been targeted by the Chinese government as a practice terrain for its ambitions to build some state-owned Chinese media into influential global brands through exports of media content, joint ventures, and acquisitions (State Administration of Press and Publications 2012). In 2010, China News Agency founded a World Chinese-Language Media Cooperative Alliance, its goal being to “increase the cohesiveness and impact” of Chinese-language media (MqVU 2011). More broadly, these developments fit into the Chinese government’s much-noted agenda to increase its global “soft power” by increasing its ability to define global news agendas and propagating a particular view of the world that is putatively “Chinese” (cf. Schmidt 2013). So far, direct investment from China in Cambodia’s media has been slow to come, although negotiations with several companies are reportedly underway. It is, rather, migrants from China who have played a central role in the transformation of the media. Although most are not trained as media professionals, they willingly adopt that role as it constitutes important cultural capital and, when compared to what they encounter locally, corresponds to their self- perception. A young editor who joined a Cambodian paper just after graduating from a Chinese university recalls how dumbstruck she was when she was offered the job of “senior editor” (zhubian). How was that possible for a fresh graduate? Soon, however, she came to see the professionalism and quality of Cambodian- Chinese media in such a dim light that her appointment appeared justified, although of little value to her professional future. But if, in some ways, Cambodian-Chinese media are becoming more like media in China, the effects of this transformation on Chinese media’s political position and social role are complex and cannot be reduced to strengthening ethnic nationalism or self-censorship. To begin with, media in China are in fact increasingly differentiated and hardly represent a single view of the world, even if certain tropes are both deeply ingrained and often enforced The case of Cambodia 27 through censorship. Also, PRC journalists who work in Cambodian media, particularly the better-educated ones, feel somewhat less existentially bound by CPP loyalties than the Khmer-language press, all of which is owned by businesspeople close to the ruling party elite, although much more so than English-language media, which tends to be highly critical of the CPP. In the run-up to the election, while Khmer papers hardly reported on opposition activities at all, their coverage in the Chinese press was rather diverse, from nearly nonexistent (Khmer Daily)tonegative(Jian Hua Daily and Phnom Penh Evening Post), neutral (Commercial Daily), and cautiously critical (Sin Chew Daily; cf. Meyn 2013). Migrants from China form an increasingly important market of readers and advertisers, and while, as they would in China, they seek to take advantage of Cambodia’s clientelist politics, they are also frustrated by its corruption and inefficiency. Some of the papers that are more attuned to readers’ interests try to strike a balance that corresponds to these contrasting impulses. A mainland Chinese editor commented that his paper was “not very critical, because we are a local paper and we need to survive,” adding that the local, ACC-affiliated Chinese associations would not accept too critical a tone. Another young mainland Chinese editor complained that a senior editor at her paper, also from the mainland, “killed” an opinion piece she wrote on the elections, which, although praising the CPP overall, mentioned corruption and a street rumor that Hun Sen may have engineered an explosion after the elections as an excuse to bring in the army. Some of the mainland journalists are beginning to experiment with pieces that are mildly critical of the Chinese authorities for not doing enough to support their citizens. During a visit to Cambodia by the director of the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (Qiaoban) in 2013 that followed the killing of a Chinese trader, the Commercial Daily’s editor-in-chief, Shen Kaidong, wrote in an opinion piece: “While Director Qiu exchanges toasts with high officials and tycoons and tastes exquisite meals prepared by top chefs, can she also hear the cry of the orphan and widow who lost their loved one?” (Shen 2013). Such criticism of officials insensitive to the plight of common people—including those overseas—is commonplace in China’s social media, and the attack on banqueting follows the line of China’s current leadership. Yet it is unusual in new migrant media and aroused opposition from various quarters. “Overseas Chinese are more patriotic even than Chinese in China,” Shen commented. “The Qiaoban keeps giving money to Chinese schools, and [the organizations] are also worried about damaging Chinese–Cambodian relations.” A mainland journalist at a competing paper dismissed the article as “stirring up trouble.” But a veteran Chinese-Cambodian reporter who has worked at various papers including Sin Chew disliked the piece as well. The editor “can run away,” she said, “but we have to stick it out here.” The embassy felt that the article was offensive and rebuked the paper. But on other occasions, Commercial Daily’s new editorial line was criticized for defending mainland Chinese interests. On March 28, 2013, Sin Chew Daily reported that a hot-air balloon offering tourist rides at Angkor Wat had crashed, and two tourists were seriously 28 Nyíri Pál injured. Commercial Daily’s editor-in-chief, who happened to be at Angkor at the time, wrote an article rebutting the report and claiming that there had been no crash, only a minor technical problem, and the tourists were fine. On a Facebook group of Cambodian-Chinese schools, some Sino-Khmer members accused Shen of putting the interests of the Chinese-backed company that operated the balloon before the truth. While the two episodes are not necessarily contradictory—Shen appears to be interested in speaking up for migrants and investors in China when he feels they are not given due consideration either by Cambodians or by their own embassy—they do, taken together, suggest that the arrival of more independent-minded mainland journalists has triggered more debate and reflection in and around the media. Indeed, while these journalists are critical of the quality of local media and of the constraints they face, they nonetheless stress that, in some ways, they are freer than they would be in China. A young editor who is “inclined toward liberalism” (pian ziyou) and who came to Cambodia rather than letting her Party official father arrange a job for her says that, despite all the limitations imposed by her superiors and the imperative to “serve the boss,” she is relatively free to interview people and write about topics she is interested in. Although what she writes may not be published, she is at least free to speak. In China, she did not feel free to discuss “sensitive” topics; her father and friends had warned her to be careful of what she wrote on her microblog. Most recently, journalists from China have become active in diversifying Chinese media in Cambodia in a different way. In 2014, a young man from Shandong, who came to Cambodia by way of studying in Japan and found a job in human resources, launched the magazine Pinwei Gaomian. Its English title is Enjoy Cambodia, but the Chinese title—literally “Khmer taste,” with the term pinwei suggesting sophistication—gives a more accurate impression of the magazine’s aim to provide “great lifestyle information” to young (between 22 and 48, according to an editor) Chinese readers with money to spend, as the editor-in-chief, herself 22 and from Chongqing, explained. She added that this included such topics as “culture, society, colorful life choices, special events, talking-head interviews.” One of four very young journalists from China on the magazine’s staff, she was recruited online after returning to China from studying at the University of Delaware. These young people’s social networks, both online and offline, extend beyond co-ethnics; many have Facebook pages with many English and even Japanese posts. This cosmopolitan social field, and these journalists’ interest in fashion, food, and art, distinguishes them from their colleagues—whether local or mainland Chinese—working in other Chinese-language media. Mainland journalists in Cambodia are part of a transnational online public sphere that uses PRC portals and is centered on China, a sphere they share with the correspondents from Xinhua and CRI, with whom they also form offline friendships based on similar age, interests, and background. Such friendships are sometimes put to the service of voluntary self-censorship in order to present news from the “correct” perspective, as in the case of the Khmer Daily editor The case of Cambodia 29 who asked her friend at Xinhua how to report on the Chinese arms delivery to Cambodia just after the election. Nonetheless, in other ways, journalists from China are contributing to greater media pluralism in terms of content, style, and politics. While they largely contribute to making the public framing of Chinese identity more uniform, young mainland Chinese journalists do not necessarily see all news practices familiar from China as desirable to implement in Cambodia. Constrained in resources, training, and freedom though they may be, Cambodian media nonetheless offer some room to experience and experiment. Young mainland Chinese journalists in Cambodia are playing a peripheral part in the ongoing globalization of Chinese-language media, but their experiences are a reminder that this process may ultimately be significant for the future development of media practices within China as well.

Notes 1 Parts of the material presented in this chapter have been previously published in Nyíri (2013). 2 While “Chinese-Cambodian” implies a Chinese ethnic identity, “Sino-Khmer” refers to an awareness of Chinese ancestry that may translate into varying degrees of ethnic identiﬁcation. I use these terms interchangeably. 3 The standard work on the Chinese in Cambodia is Willmott (1967); good recent overviews are Tan (2006) and Edwards and Paterson (2012). On the persecution of ethnic Chinese under the Khmer Rouge, see, e.g. Kiernan (1986). 4 In December 2013, the oﬃcial Kampuchea News Agency announced that Yunnan Mobile Digital TV, a company based in Yunnan Province, would begin broadcasting “soon” in both Khmer and Chinese (Morton 2013). While there is no record of a company with that name in China, a prominent businessman from China had announced plans to start a television channel in Cambodia called Yinhe earlier that year (Zhi Gang and Liu 2013). A Yunnan-based company called Yinhe Star Technology has been described in Chinese media as specializing in satellite TV signal antennae for handheld devices, developed for international businesspeople (Yunnanwang 2013). It is unclear where the company broadcasts will be produced if they are indeed launched. 5 The editor-in-chief of one paper admitted that although they report a circulation of ten thousand, in fact it is closer to two thousand.

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Wanning Sun

China’s recent initiatives to expand and deepen its media presence in Africa are being closely scrutinized by a number of scholars (Gorfinkel et al. 2014; Wasserman 2012; Wu 2012; Xin 2009; Zhang, Mano, and Wasserman 2013). By contrast, the production, content, and use of ethnic Chinese-language media among Chinese migrants in South Africa—and in Africa more generally—has so far received little attention. To a certain extent, this lack of attention can be explained in both geographic and historical terms. Africa is not only far from “the motherland” (be that the PRC, Taiwan, or Hong Kong), but it is also far from the major destinations for Chinese migrants, such as the United States, Canada, and Australia, where studies of diasporic Chinese media tend to concentrate. Furthermore, while South Africa has attracted many business people from Taiwan in earlier decades and then more recently from the PRC, it has not been a favored destination for students seeking migration through the route of education in the past three decades. As a result of this omission, a number of important questions remain unanswered. In particular, we are not clear about the specific contours of the development that Chinese-language media in South Africa have followed so far, nor do we know to what extent they are similar to or different from the media of diasporic Chinese groups elsewhere. Furthermore, what accounts for the distinctive structure of feeling associated with being a Chinese in South Africa, if such distinctiveness indeed exists? Finally, and perhaps most important to the question of Chinese transnationalism, if we place the Chinese media in South Africa in a comparative global context, what can this tell us in our attempt to rethink transnationalism in the wake of China’s rise? This chapter sets out to explore these questions. In the first part I outline the evolution of the Chinese media in South Africa (hereafter “SA”)bylinkingit to SA’s history and changing patterns of Chinese migration, paying particular attention to the major similarities and differences between the Chinese-language media in SA and their counterparts elsewhere. In the second part, by studying the content of Chinese media in SA and drawing on my own interview material, I examine the ambiguous racial status of Chinese migrants in SA, and the ways in which this has affected the Chinese community’s media practices and strategies for survival in that country. The discussion suggests that while there are The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 33 a number of ways in which the Chinese-language media in SA are similar to their counterparts in Chinese communities in other parts of the world, at the same time the growth of the Chinese-language media in SA has followed a somewhat distinctive trajectory.

From ROC to PRC: migrants and their media Like Chinese communities in many diasporic locations, those in SA are characterized by different origins and circumstances of migration. The earliest Chinese arrivals in SA were the convicts and indentured slaves brought in by the Dutch East India Company in the mid-seventeenth century, laborers and artists in the 1800s, and contracted miners between 1904 and 1910. Most of these early arrivals either returned to their place of origin or blended into mixed-race communities, and as a result they do not constitute a significant number (Park 2008). In addition, there were independent migrants who arrived in SA from China at the end of the nineteenth century, seeking a better life. These migrants were drawn to SA’s gold, and their lives, working conditions, and economic opportunities were similar to those of their counterparts in other countries with a history of gold rushes. Numbering 10,000 or upwards, they are often referred as to SA’s “local Chinese,” or SABCs (South African Born Chinese). The National Party won the election in 1948, bringing with it the formal implementation of the notorious policy of apartheid. Coupled with the defeat of the Chinese Nationalists (Kuomintang, or KMT) and the founding of Communist rule in China in 1949, the SA Chinese community, like its counterparts elsewhere, became a race whose identity went through transformation and redefinition. They were by turns “non-white,”“colored,” and then “white.” Previously, since the 1920s, the Chinese communities in SA had defined their Chineseness in terms of their allegiance to the KMT and their fear of Com- munism (Park 2008). This explains why some of the first and longest-lasting Chinese-language newspapers were established by Nationalist migrants who had the backing of the KMT. For instance, the Overseas Chinese Gazette (Qiao Sheng Bao), the first Chinese-language paper in SA, was started in 1931 with funds from the KMT-backed Chinese embassy in SA, and was operated by migrants living in South Africa, Madagascar, and Mauritius (Rong 2005). Published every Wednesday for several decades, the Overseas Chinese Gazette had the calligraphic writing of Chiang Kai-shek as the masthead. It drew most of its news from Taiwan’s Central News Agency and, to a lesser extent, Hong Kong and Macao, and clearly bore the political imprimatur of the KMT. Reporting primarily on news and current affairs in Taiwan, the paper was staunchly pro-Taiwan and anti-PRC (Xu 2010). At one stage, the paper was in financial trouble, only to be bailed out by further funds from the Taiwanese embassy. And the consul-general of Taiwan in Johannesburg was the editor- in-chief (Dajiawang 2011). The paper was distributed not only in SA but also in a few neighboring countries, including Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, and Swaziland. The circulation of the paper reached 50,000, which was 34 Wanning Sun impressive, especially given that one copy of the paper might be passed around and read by as many as fifty people in Mozambique, in an era when the transportation and communication systems were very basic indeed (Wei 2010). The Overseas Chinese Gazette also ran its own subsidiary radio station, Overseas Chinese Radio (Qiao Sheng Guangbo Diantai). Between the 1950s and 1970s, Chinese migration from Taiwan and the PRC to SA was negligible. In the case of the PRC, this was understandable, given that the PRC did not establish a formal diplomatic relationship with SA until 1999 and China did not open the door to outbound migration until the late 1980s. Given the small number of Taiwanese-dominated Chinese in SA (around 5,000 in 1999), it is not surprising that the Overseas Chinese Gazette, as the longest-operating Chinese-language paper in the country, catered predominantly to Taiwanese migrants’ political and cultural needs. SA’s Chinese population started to grow substantially from the 1980s, when Taiwanese industrialists, taking advantage of SA’s attractive business immigration incen- tives, moved there en masse in the 1980s, forming the first real wave of Chinese migration to SA. This was followed by another wave of Taiwanese in the 1990s, most of whom were entrepreneurs, importer-exporters, and, to a lesser extent, students. To continue to cater to the needs of the predominantly Taiwanese population, more Chinese-language papers, weeklies, and monthly magazines appeared, including China Express (Huaqiao Xinwen Bao), which started in 1994. Other periodicals include Investment in South Africa (Nanfei Douzi), funded by the Taiwanese Investors’ Association; Transvaal Chinese Commerce (Dusheng Huashang), a trade journal published by the Transvaal Taiwanese Commerce Association from 1992; and Taiwan Forum (Taiwan Luntan), which started in 2001. However, many of these Taiwanese-oriented publications did not enjoy a long and illustrious career due to a dramatic decrease in the Taiwanese migrant population in SA. In the 1990s there were around 30,000 Taiwanese in SA, but that number had dwindled to 6,000 by 2008 (Park 2008). Despite the fact that 90 percent of Taiwanese migrants had taken up South African citizenship, a range of factors prompted an exodus from SA, including economic recession, political instability, fear of crime, and social disorder in SA. While this same set of fears motivated many “whites,”“coloreds,” and “Indians” to leave in anticipation of black nationalist racial politics under a post-apartheid regime (Louw and Mersham 2001), the departure of many Taiwanese industrialists was also a response to increasingly fraught labor issues and new competition from low-cost imports from China (Park 2008). As in many other diasporic localities, the Chinese-language media would not have survived without the injection of new migrants from the PRC, who arrived in the late 1980s and mostly in the 1990s. According to a report in the China Daily, there are now about 300,000 Chinese-speaking people in SA, 90 percent of whom live in Johannesburg, and 90 percent of whom do not speak English (Zhao 2013). Whether this latter figure is inflated is open to debate, but it clearly points to a need for Chinese-language sources for news and information. The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 35 The arrival of PRC migrants in SA in the 1990s formed the third wave of Chinese migration, and this population of some 300,000 Chinese makes up around 30 percent of the entire Chinese migrant population in Africa (Wang N. 2013). Most PRC migrants in SA are business people, with many in import and export, retail, and various kinds of small business. Writing about Chinese business people in SA, one Chinese journalist observes that to South Afri- cans, both white and black, the figure of the Chinese business person specializing in particular types of small merchandise is a direct conduit for understanding China. In the 1990s, Chinese businesses were predominantly concentrated in large and medium-sized cities in SA, but in the last decade or so they have penetrated most small and even some remote villages (Wang H. 2014). This dramatic demographic change has given rise to the need for Chinese-language publications that reflect these migrants’ specific cultural and political affiliations. Apart from the increase in Chinese-language publication titles and circulation, the dramatic change in the composition of the Chinese-speaking population in SA has had a profound impact on the status quo in the Chinese-language media. In particular, these media have experienced a gradual but thorough transition from a pro-Taiwanese to pro- PRC stance, with those publications that were staunchly pro-Taiwan being either driven out of business or obliged to adopt a more neutral—or even pro-PRC—outlook. An example of the former is the Overseas Chinese Gazette. To be sure, the paper did make some attempts to win over readers from the PRC. This included changing its printing style from vertical to horizontal and adopting a new editorial policy which aimed to “love motherland, serve the migrant community, provide objective reporting, and oppose Taiwanese separatism” (Xu 2010). Despite these overtures, the paper nevertheless failed to make the transition, and had to shut down in 2005 after 75 years of publication. Its subsidiary radio station, Overseas Chinese Radio, also closed down. An example of the latter is the China Express, which dropped its former English name in favor of China Chronicles, while still retaining its Chinese name (Huaqiao Xinwen Bao). The paper’sofficial website states that the newspaper targets Chinese migrants in SA from “both sides of the Strait” (i.e. PRC and Taiwan) and “four locations” (i.e. Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macao, and the PRC), and its editorial goals are “documenting the history of migration, improving migrants’ lives, facilitating the exchange of information, and promoting Chinese culture” (www.sa-cnet.net/ about/aboutus). A quick survey of the latest issues of the paper seems to suggests that it is largely pro-PRC: it gives generous space for the coverage of Chinese-government dignitaries visiting SA; it provides itself as a platform for various China-promoting activities by the Chinese embassy in SA; and its coverage of Chinese domestic news is more or less indistinguishable from that published in China. To Chinese community leaders in Johannesburg, the rise of pro-PRC Chinese- language papers has been necessary in order to address a perceived bias and imbalance between pro-Taiwan and pro-PRC content. Li Xinzhu, the editor 36 Wanning Sun of the African Times (Feizhou Shi Bao), explains the motivation to start that paper in this way:

In March 2005, two very important meetings—the National People’s Congress and the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference—were held in Beijing. These were the most important meetings from the point of view of PRC Chinese, but the two Chinese papers controlled by the Taiwanese made no mention of them. We were very angry about it. Blaming others was not an option. We had to start our own media and have our own voice. Two months later, Afri- can Times was born, with the help of a few community leaders and the Chinese embassy in Johannesburg. (Aisifang 2014)

Currently, there are three Chinese-language newspapers in SA, all published in Johannesburg: China Chronicles, China News SA (Nanfei Huaren Bao), and the African Times. All three papers primarily target PRC migrants and evince an unambiguous and unapologetically close affinity with the PRC, even though the legacy of the Taiwanese style remains, to some extent. For instance, all three papers still use the traditional Chinese writing style, to which Taiwanese readers are accustomed. Of these, China News SA appears the most explicitly aligned with the PRC, declaring its editorial ambit to be to “promote China’s international image and the credibility of the Chinese government.” On the first anniversary of the normalization of PRC–SA diplomatic relations, the paper was launched in 1999 to coincide with the official visit of then Vice-President Hu Jintao. The paper received considerable support from various PRC organizations in its gestation period, and its launch was extensively covered in the PRC’s domestic media, including the People’s Daily, the CCP’sofficial newspaper. With its masthead calligraphy written by Shao Huaze, the editor-in-chief of the People’s Daily, the paper has under- taken numerous joint ventures with media outlets in the PRC, including the publication of a South African version of the Xin Min Evening Post,a metropolitan paper in Shanghai (Yang, n.d.). To mark the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, the staff of the paper set up a South African Celebration Preparation Committee. As part of the celebration, a range of initiatives were launched, including an essay competition on the theme of “I Love China, My Motherland.” To a researcher of the history and development of diasporic Chinese media, the first striking thing about the SA case is that its growth and metamorphosis took place conspicuously outside the network of the “global diasporic Chinese mediasphere” (Sun 2005). We know from existing literature that a global diasporic Chinese mediasphere started to take shape in the decades after World War II. Conglomerates such as Sing Tao Jih Pao in Hong Kong and the Taiwan-based United Daily News Group began to extend their businesses to major cities in North America, the United Kingdom, Southeast The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 37 Asia, and Oceania, where there was a sizable concentration of Chinese migrants. Much of the content of these papers was and still is designed and produced in Hong Kong or Taiwan, and nowadays it is transmitted to various diasporic locations through satellite. This way, migrants in far-flung countries can on a daily basis renew a sense of connection to the homeland. At the same time, these papers also have local components, produced by teams stationed in a number of cities who are often themselves Chinese migrants. The tradition of these globalized yet highly localized media production and consumption practices among diasporic Chinese communities for the last half a century has enabled Chinese migrants to sustain a place-specific identity based on their place of origin, while at the same time also managing to develop a sense of place in the country of their destination. Furthermore, they can imagine themselves as members of a larger, global Chinese migrant community, with similar cultural and reading habits, preferences, and tastes despite their geographic distance from one another. For instance, Taiwanese migrants in various parts of the world can read the World Journal (Shijie Ribao), and Cantonese- speaking mainland and Hong Kong migrants can access Sing Tao Daily (Xin Dao Ribao)orMing Pao Daily (Ming Bao) and other Chinese-language publications produced in Hong Kong (Sun 2006). Yet, despite the initially Taiwanese-dominated composition of the Chinese community in SA, Taiwanese migrants have never enjoyed all the privileges that their counterparts in other countries took for granted—e.g. being able to read a South African edition of the World Journal.Instead,untilthe1990s,the Chinese community in SA and neighboring African countries had lived off the locally produced Overseas Chinese Gazette for more than seven decades. Also, despite the well-documented entrepreneurial spirit of the Sing Tao Group and its vital role in developing a global Chinese-language media network in the major cities of the world (Sun 2005), it clearly did not see it as profitable to extend its business to SA. To this day, these global Chinese media networks are conspicuously absent from SA. This lack of interest is also reflected in the absence of a global Chinese television network such as TVB, which is produced in Hong Kong and provides regular television content to major global cities. And it may well be because of the historical absence of these global Chinese media networks in SA that China’s state media have had a much more direct and easy pathway for forming partnerships in recent years. For instance, since the demise of the pro-Taiwan radio station Overseas Chinese Radio, a pro- PRC radio station, ArrowLine Chinese Radio of South Africa—AM1269 (Nanfei Huaxia Zhisheng Guangbo Diantan)—is now the only Chinese radio station in SA. Speaking in standard putonghua and broadcasting much of the news and current content from CRI (China Radio International), its partnership with the PRC’s leading state propaganda media organization seems matter-of-fact, requiring neither apology nor justification. Apart from geographical isolation and lack of local communication infrastructure, the most obvious reason for global Chinese media networks’ lack of interest in developing their presence in SA has been the size of the Chinese 38 Wanning Sun community there: it was simply too small to warrant their business expansion. When these global media networks were making inroads into major world cities in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, Taiwanese migration to SAwas miniscule. Moreover, the local Chinese in SA were already small in number, and most did not read Chinese. Even though the 1980s and 1990s saw two waves of Taiwanese migrants to SA, the population was not big or stable enough to make it attractive to global Chinese media networks. Instead, locally funded and produced Chinese-language periodicals, papers, magazines, and association journals such as Rainbow Weekly (Hong Zhoukan, starting in 2006) and the monthly Chinese Commerce in SA (Nanfei Huashang, also starting in 2006), have so far operated on a small scale, and their survival—or their failure to survive—reflects the ebb and flow of Chinese migration over the past three decades. It is perhaps due to this small scale of production and consumption that the Chinese media scene in SA takes on a somewhat different dynamic trajectory from other destinations for Chinese migration. The element of fierce competition among various media enterprises that marks Chinese communities in other diasporic settings is not really apparent. The three Chinese newspapers currently published in Johannesburg are all owned by Chinese migrants, and they “co-exist amicably and harmoniously, without too much competition” (Wei 2010). These papers try to complement one another in content, and staff reporters routinely share information and sources; mobility of staff among these three papers is also fairly common. Staff reporters explain this relative lack of competition among papers as being due to a commonly held perception among them that “we are all foreigners surviving in a far-flung place, and only when we are united can we be strong” (Tian 2010). Rather than competing with one another for circulation, each paper has instead developed a business strategy of diversification. By spreading the business base to include other sectors such as Chinese tourism in SA, translation services, and the import and export of cultural products, they have each managed to carve out a profitable niche in the migrant economy of SA. China News SA,for instance, is subsidized by SA Rainbow Travel, which specializes in catering to Chinese tourists. During the World Cup in SA in 2010, SA Rainbow Travel made considerable money by being the official host of a Chinese delegation of sports reporters, providing accommodation to them as well as assistance for their reporting activities (Wang N. 2013). These papers have developed an extensive and interactive online presence, thus enabling those dispersed Chinese readers who live outside the metropolitan areas of Johannesburg and Pretoria to access their news content, as well as be exposed to the advertising of services and businesses. Given the delay and the prohibitive cost of transporting copies of these papers from the capital to various parts of SA, their online availability proves to be a win–win solution for both producers and readers. This is a common business strategy adopted by Chinese-language papers in major world cities (Sun et al. 2011). In addition to this strategy of transitioning from a single-paper to a multi- platform operation, complete with the publishing of weeklies and monthlies, The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 39 some of these papers have begun to explore ways of partnering with Chinese media entities. This has proved to be an effective way of extending their media presence to mainland China, as well as taking advantage of the resources and media content that come with such partnerships. For instance, the African Times has partnerships with a number of PRC media outlets, including the Overseas Chinese News of Fujian (Fujian Qiaobao), a monthly paper whose headquarters are in Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, and which comes under the auspices of the Fujian Association for Overseas Exchange. Overseas Chinese News of Fujian is distributed in over 120 countries, and also has partnerships with Chinese newspapers in a dozen countries that help print and distribute the Chinese paper. As part of the deal, the African Times helps by printing and distributing the Chinese paper locally, and in return it is able to insert the paper literally into the African Times as if it were an integral part of that paper. China News SA provides another example: by handing over ownership of a certain percentage of its share in the business to a mainland Chinese media company, China News SA is said to have improved its content and impact considerably, sharing mainland media content with domestic readers, and drawing on the expertise of reporters from China (Wei 2010).

The price to pay for being “honorary whites” Besides containing copious advertising, which mainly features local Chinese businesses and services that are available to the local Chinese community, the Chinese papers in SA are usually a composite of (1) SA’s national current affairs, giving particular emphasis to those that involve SA’s diplomatic and business relations with China; (2) reporting of local events and happenings, paying close attention to the activities and interests of the Chinese community; and (3) news and current affairs from the PRC, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. As with Chinese-language diasporic media elsewhere, these media outlets function in a number of ways, including the exchange of information and views on issues of common concern among various groups within the local Chinese community; representing and communicating the concerns of the Chinese community to mainstream society and government; and reporting back to the Chinese community on the policies and positions of mainstream society (Sun 2006). However, a longitudinal survey of the content of Chinese papers in SA over a number of years points to one significant anomaly regarding their content: there seems to be a disproportionate coverage of crimes, including both those that affect the Chinese community and those that do not. Typical front-page stories include eye-catching headlines such as “More riots in the Free State; Numerous Chinese Shops Looted” (African Times, July 21, 2012); “Serious Robbery in the Vicinity of Chinatown: Police and Criminals Exchange Fire; Two Robbers Gunned Down in the Street” (China Chronicles, July 21, 2012); and “Five Rob- bers Use Extreme Violence; Female Chinese Shop Owner Severely Beaten” (China News SA, May 3, 2013). Usually replete with photos of injured bodies, 40 Wanning Sun looted shops, or police in action at the crime scene, these stories narrate, in meticulous detail, the consequences of the event and the damage done to people and property. Almost invariably, they end with a warning to readers to take extra care. For instance, the story in China News SA that ran under the above headline ends by saying:

This paper condemns the cruel criminals, and we express our gratitude to the Chinese embassy and Chinese community groups for their care for the safety of the Chinese community. At the same time, we want to remind our readers yet again that we must always be vigilant and never let our guard down. Given that social order in SA in recent months is not so good, it is particularly important to take whatever precautions are necessary. (China News SA, May 3, 2013, 1)

Stories like this are common, and often invoke a somewhat dichotomous idea of SA as a lawless and hostile place, and the motherland—through its representatives—as a caring, though far-away, place. A frequently recurring news story in these papers is how the Chinese embassy, in collaboration with local Chinese community associations, provides moral, emotional, and practical support to Chinese migrant victims of local crimes. On March 25, 2014, the lead story in China News SA—entitled “Embassy and Neighborhood Watch Committee Visit Family of Murdered Victim, Urging Police to Intensify Investigation”—is a typical example. According to the story, three armed black robbers went into a Chinese shop in Ikageng in the Northwest Province of SA. When the shop owner Mr Zheng Yuhua put up a fight, they gunned him down on the spot, and his son was also seriously injured. The victim’s aging parents in China were unable to attend to his funeral arrangements, and his wife was emotionally paralyzed with grief. In view of this situation, the Chinese embassy sent out its representatives, assisting Zheng’s family deal with the local police and various bureau- cratic procedures associated with death and funeral arrangements (China News SA 2014a). In addition to the Chinese embassy, local associations also lent support to the victim and family. The following day, the paper issued a public appeal on behalf of the Fujianese Association of the Northwest Province of SA, calling for donations for the victim’s family. The appeal detailed the hardships experienced by Mr Zheng and his family in recent years, as well as the dire circumstances caused by the tragedy, and called for readers to “be compas- sionate, extend a helping hand, and dig deep into their pockets” to help the family get through “this most difficult time” (China News SA 2014b). A less frequent but more reassuring variant of the crime narrative is the story of what is being done to prevent and minimize crime and to ensure the security of the Chinese community. In March 2013, for instance, various stories appeared in the papers detailing the cooperation between the Johannesburg police and the Chinese community. According to these reports, a Chinatown South African Police Service Reporting Center was established in association The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 41 with the police cooperation center. The reporting center is available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and is able to advise and assist the community with basic police services. The mechanism also provides translators to those who cannot communicate in any of the local languages. Crimes are reported at a local police station, which makes service at the police cooperation center more efficient and effective. Crime is a serious social issue in SA, and SA’s unsavory reputation as an exceptionally unsafe and dangerous place to live and visit is internationally known. However, the ways in which Chinese migrants respond to crime seem to be closely related to their sense of who they are, what SA means to them, and how they make sense of their decision to migrate to this country. Reading these crime stories in Chinese papers in conjunction with my conversations with members of the Chinese community in Johannesburg, I sensed beneath this palpable fear of crime a prevalent sense of insecurity about themselves and their property. Although the Chinese papers seldom delve into these questions, the per- ennial daily production and consumption of crime stories nevertheless presents itself as a mechanism and process by which we can explore questions about Chinese identity, survival strategies, and cultural practices. In a focus group discussion with more than a dozen Chinese migrants in Johannesburg, participants cited a number of reasons for choosing SA as their migration destination.1 The most prominent factor, from their point of view, was that SA provided unique opportunities for them to do business; and for those daring enough to undertake the adventure, the rewards are indeed usually handsome. A Mr Wu, in his early forties and hailing from northern China, runs a successful hardware company employing more than thirty people, for which he imports hardware products from China and sells them wholesale or retail to local buyers. He lives in a highly securitized, gated residential community—the type of residence favored by well-to-do Chinese migrants—and is a very active organizer and leader among the Chinese migrant community. Formerly trained as an architect in China, Mr Wu said that he had stumbled into the hardware business:

The percentage of white people here is small, and white people don’t know how to tap into the Chinese market. Blacks are in the majority but they are mostly at the bottom of the society. We Chinese have taken advantage of this niche. It’s much easier to become a boss here.

Mr Wu’s view was seconded by a Mr Chen, also in his forties, who said that he was worried about crime in SA and had even thought of migrating to Australia, but after making a reconnaissance of Australia he decided against it:

In Australia, the majority of the population is white and middle-class, and as a result there’s much less room for Chinese migrant business people to maneuver. You’re in a racially subordinate position, and labor is too expensive. It’s much easier to be successful in business and make 42 Wanning Sun money here. So, after weighing up these pros and cons, I’ve decided to stay on in SA. Crime is bad here, but it’s the price we have to pay for living in an “adventurers’ paradise.”

Another important reason for Chinese migrants’ preferences for SA as a migration destination is how the Chinese are configured in South Africa’s racial politics. In historical terms, the Chinese were considered to be too small in number and too dispersed in terms of origin to make a discrete category in SA’s racial classification (Harris 2013). Due to this perceived anomaly, the Chinese have been variously classified as “non-white,”“colored,” and “white” at different junctures of history. In recent decades, especially since the arrival of industrialists and business people from the Republic of China (ROC) and then the PRC, the Chinese have been identified as mostly middle-class in terms of economic status and lifestyle, and the notion of the Chinese as “honorary whites” seems to have taken root. This contested and ambiguous classification has resulted in a distinct set of SA Chinese outlooks and subject positions. On the one hand, keen to preserve their ethnic identity yet pragmatic about achieving economic goals and objectives, the Chinese bargained with the white apartheid system in order to survive. Some, who effectively took advantage of the racial niche of their situation, have even prospered. They have alternately accepted and rejected their honorary whiteness as it suited them. At the same time, they have themselves exhibited racist attitudes toward black people. Writing about the ambiguous racial position of the Chinese in SA, Park says that Chinese racism “was a feature of the mindset, in fact learned in and reinforced by apartheid” (Park 2008: 120). She attributes this strong sense of superiority to two factors: first, a primordial pride in Chinese civilization; and second, as a way of “(over)compensating for the loss of status, position and power in moving to a foreign land” (ibid.: 120). This argument about the racist mindset of the Chinese community is borne out by the statements of some Chinese business people in my focus group. Having taken me after the focus group discussion to see his shop, where he employs more than a dozen blacks, Mr Xue told me that none of his Chinese friends and acquaintances who came to visit his shop cared to speak to his black employees, and some were even rude to them. “The Chinese look down on the blacks, and treat them like dirt. Equality between people never seems to come to their minds when it comes to the question of how to treat black people,” he said. Keen to show me that he did not share his compatriots’ racist attitude, Mr Xue gave me examples of how he took care of his employees and treated them with dignity. However, when the conversation drifted to the topic of interracial romance and marriage, Mr Xue said that the Chinese community seldom get romantically involved with other races. Elaborating on the issue of some Chinese finding it hard to find a partner, including himself, I asked him if he had ever contemplated going out with a white or black person. Speaking of the difficulty of going out with a white person, he cited the example of someone I met in the focus group earlier in the day who experimented with The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 43 going out with a white woman, only to realize that it did not work. “The cultural differences are insurmountable,” he said. As for going out with a black person, Mr Xue ruled it out categorically: “It’s impossible. I’m not going out with a black person. That’s where I draw the line.” Since the Chinese seldom socialize with black people, their only sustained interactions with them tend to be in the workplace. And since black labor tends to be cheaper and more available, it is understandable that many Chi- nese business people employ black people for low-skilled jobs. But this does not mean that they are happy with the situation. In my conversations with a few business people, it became clear that black employees were often considered wanting in their work habits and attitudes. Mr Chen, one of the businessmen I spoke to, made this complaint about the labor laws in SA, which seems fairly representative:

No Chinese person wants to work for a Chinese boss, because he himself also wants to be a boss. Blacks are more available but they’re diﬃcult to sack and can cause you headaches in terms of industrial relations. SA has this very draconian labor law, which rules that you cannot sack an employee within a certain period of their initial employment unless you can prove misconduct. But it is an administrative nightmare to compile legal evidence of misconduct. And blacks are very good at taking advantage of loopholes in the labor laws. So we’re in a tricky situation. We prefer not to hire them, but we have to.

If a sense of superiority over black people is reinforced through these workplace relations, at the same time this also manifests itself in a profound and general sense of fear and anxiety about what blacks might do to jeopardize their personal safety and the security of their property. I did not have to delve too deeply to discern a persistent sense of unease about living in an environment in which the Chinese are surrounded by people they do not trust. When I said that I was going to visit Alexandria, an informal settlement suburb where migrants are concentrated, the Chinese group seemed horrified at the thought. When I mentioned that I had visited Soweto to see the hometown of Nelson Mandela, one elderly Chinese woman, who obviously was considered some kind of leader in the Chinese community, told me that it was not safe. “We stand out too conspicuously among them. We look different from them, and that’s why they rob us and mug us.” In other words, while members of the Chinese community fear for their safety in the same way as white and middle-class black people, their fear seems to take on an extra dimension, which is formed at the intersection of a few factors. These include an unquestionable sense of their own racial superiority, a dependency on the black labor force for the viability of their businesses, a lack of racial interaction with either the white or the black communities, and a self-perception as a rich yet minority racial group in a foreign, hostile country. In other words, while SA attracts them with its 44 Wanning Sun opportunities for wealth accumulation, it has also made them the main target for envy and black crime. For those who elect to stay, this is a price that must be paid. Given these pervasive and deeply felt fears for their own safety, it is only logical and understandable that Chinese community media would pay due attention to such a serious social issue. And to suggest that these newspapers engage in the business of sensationalizing crime for the sake of selling copies would be superficial at best and misleading at worst. This discussion points to a process which is much more complex and paradoxical. On the one hand, we see that the Chinese papers and news websites are highly attuned to the collective moods, sentiments, and psychological needs of the Chinese community. By providing a reliable means whereby worrying information concerning the welfare of the Chinese community can be shared and exchanged, these papers and forums function as a virtual community hall. This space is vital, particularly to migrants whose English literacy is too limited to rely on mainstream English media outlets. On the other hand, however, while faithfully and meticulously documenting the details of crimes, especially those that are inflicted on members of the Chinese community, such stories have the effect of reinforcing fear and anxiety and an already heightened sense of vulnerability. Even though these stories almost always end with a friendly caution to readers to take extra care in safeguarding themselves and their property, readers cannot but feel that they live in a society where their safety is indeed beyond their own control.

Conclusion In many ways, the Chinese-language media in SA are similar to their counterparts in Chinese communities in other parts of the world. However, two factors make South Africa stand out: the first is the unique cluster of ways in which the Chinese are configured in South Africa’s past and present racial politics; and the second is the small size of the Chinese migrant population and the tyranny of distance between South Africa and other diasporic nodes. As a highly localized case study, the ethnic Chinese media in South Africa point to another pathway of development. We may indeed see this as a cau- tionary tale to those who are keen to adopt a universal model of transnational networks in understanding the Chinese diaspora. We are reminded again of the uneven and uncertain process of formation of a global Chinese transnational imagination and identity politics. The Chinese communities in SA have experienced a greatly heightened sense of racial difference between themselves and mainstream society due to the unique history of apartheid and race politics. And as an integral part of this unique position, these communities are marked by a relative lack of interest and willingness to assimilate into the wider South African society, be it black or white. This preliminary discussion suggests that while the strategies and current practices in the Chinese-language media sector reflect these The Conundrum of the “Honorary Whites” 45 self-perceptions, they are open and responsive to the impact and implications of the rise of China and its “going global” media expansionist agenda. South Africa’s Chinese-language papers simultaneously address and reinforce the fears and anxieties of the Chinese community. This paradoxical role can be accounted for in terms of these papers’ nature as migrant community papers more than as conventionally understood newspapers. I have observed elsewhere (Sun 2006) that a defining feature of the traditional diasporic Chi- nese media scene is that first and foremost it comprises community newspapers that serve the business and cultural interests of the community, and that for this reason, the journalistic standards and practices of objectivity and news-gathering, as understood in the West, do not usually apply. SA is no exception. In their effort to function as faithful barometers of the sentiments and anxieties of the community, these media outlets also inadvertently contribute to the idea of the Chinese as a culturally superior and economically privileged community, which is nevertheless more susceptible to danger precisely because of this socially elevated position.

Note 1 Focus group discussion took place on July 22, 2012 in Johannesburg, with around twenty participants. This was followed by several one-to-one in-depth conversations in the ensuing days.

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Josh Stenberg

Brazil has the largest Chinese-speaking population in Latin America, and São Paulo is probably home to a larger number of Chinese-language readers or Internet users than anywhere in the Western hemisphere south of California. Consequently, Brazil’s Chinese-language mediasphere warrants investigation, particularly since the Chinese diaspora in Latin America remains understudied in both Chinese- and Western-language scholarly work. This chapter charts the history of Chinese-language publications in Brazil, with attention first to the development of particular newspapers and the relative weight of their respective origins (specifically, Taiwan vs. the mainland) as it rose or fell within the local Chinese-speaking population. Then the chapter examines the sources and content of the dominant Chinese-language media outlet today, the Nanmei Qiaobao, a Chinese-language newspaper known in Portuguese as Jornal Chinês para a América do Sul (Chinese newspaper for South America; hereafter NMQB). Finally, it considers the focus and content of the Sino-Brazilian Internet, and investigates the shifts in identity made possible by new media. Once-powerful Taiwanese voices are at present overshadowed by publications and websites that are closely associated with PRC authorities. These latter present an orthodox PRC view of Chinese and cross-Strait issues, as well as of the role to be played by overseas Chinese in the world (or, to put it more directly, in geopolitics). New media have also been harnessed by these associations, but the nature of content delivery and creation also suggests a trans-Pacific readership and a more nuanced and flexible identity. And while the political stance and sources of support of the dominant Chinese-language media are clear, the central rationale for Chinese-language media in Brazil continues to be as a major source of practical local information for the reader of Chinese. By and large, however, the recent history of Chinese-language publication in Brazil shows a shift from a bipolar to a unipolar mediasphere, as immigrant demographics and global geopolitics tilt the balance toward official PRC discourse.

History and recent development of Chinese migration to Brazil Since the Chinese population of Brazil remains little-researched and offers a substantially different history and pattern of development from Chinese-speaking An Overseas Orthodoxy? 49 communities in Asia, North America, Europe, Australasia, or indeed Spanish- speaking countries of South America, an overview of its history and present state is appropriate. Beyond isolated individuals (Boxer 1962: 175), there was little Chinese migration to Brazil until the nineteenth century. Over that entire century there were fewer than 3,000 recorded entries (Leite 1999a, 1999b), and even in the 1930s the São Paulo community could be numbered in the dozens (Fausto 2009: 97). In all of Brazil, there were probably fewer than 1,000 Chinese by 1949 (Li and Yang 1990: 673–4). After the foundation of the People’s Republic, there were several distinct waves of immigration. The first consisted largely of wealthy mainlanders, among them many Shanghai industrialists, fleeing the Civil War and its aftermath in the 1940s and 1950s, mostly via Hong Kong and Taiwan. The second wave, beginning in the late 1960s, consisted mostly of Taiwanese, largely following or seeking economic opportunity, although some were apparently also blacklisted by the Kuomintang (KMT) government as undesirables for political or criminal reasons. By 1972, there were around 40,000 Chinese living in Brazil (Chen X. 2011: 26). The establishment of diplomatic relations between the PRC and Brazil in 1974 paved the way for a new migrant wave, one that continues today. This third and now dominant group consists of recent mainland Chinese arrivals, most of them from southern Chinese areas such as Zhejiang (especially Qingtian and Wenzhou), Fujian and Guangdong. Estimates from various journalistic and academic sources, both Chinese- and Portuguese-language, allow us to estimate that there were 80,000 ethnic Chinese in 1986 and 150,000 in 1996. By 2005, the estimate had risen to at least 200,000 (Zhu 2011: 64; Stenberg 2012: 109–10). In 2007, China Radio International (CRI) gave a number of 250,000 for “Chinese and descendants of Chinese” (CRI 2007), a figure echoed in 2010 by prominent Peking University migration specialist Li Anshan. Estimates in official PRC media from 2009 and 2012 put the number at “300,000” or “near 300,000,” citing the head of the Baxi Huaren xiehui (Assosiação Chinesa do Brasil; hereafter ACB), Li Shaoyu,2 as their source (Xinhua 2012; Chen X. 2011: 15). Based on these calculations, it seems probable that São Paulo has the highest number of Chinese speakers of any city in Latin America (Chen X. 2011: 16), since estimates are that 80 percent of the Chinese population in Brazil resides in that city, and 90 percent in the state of São Paulo. The majority are first- generation immigrants and thus (unlike, for instance, Peruvian-Chinese) overwhelmingly speakers of Chinese. Chen Xiaoli’s2011tabulationofChinese organizations in Latin America counted ten Chinese-language publications in Brazil (first in Latin America), over 100 community organizations (first in Latin America), and 20 Chinese-language schools or courses (second in Latin America) (Chen X. 2011: 22). Chinese populations and businesses are largely concentrated in the historically Japanese area of Liberdade, and the nearby 25 de Março commercial area. The city with the second-largest Chinese population is Rio (c.10,000), followed by Foz de Iguaçu, Porto Alegre, and 50 Josh Stenberg Brasilia (Chen X. 2011: 26). The only larger ethnic Chinese Latin American population is in Peru, where the bulk of immigration occurred earlier (much of it in the nineteenth century), and the Chinese-speaking population is consequently smaller, although more recent immigration is having an impact there too. No process of immigration or integration is without its traumas, but by and large the evidence suggests that integration of the Chinese into Brazil’s ethnic fabric is proceeding reasonably smoothly. As an ethnic group, the mainland Chinese are upwardly mobile. The children of small merchants and entrepreneurs are receiving a good education, often entering the professions, and not infrequently intermarrying. The linguistic evidence suggests that the community has been somewhat divided between Mandarin, Taiwanese, Cantonese, and Zhejiang dialects. Mandarin is making inroads through education in community classes, but Chinese language skills are uneven among Brazil-born Chinese. There is, however, no reason to expect the disappearance of a Chinese- language community, since new immigrants continue to arrive, and most recent adult arrivals speak limited or no Portuguese. Since the older generations of Chinese migrants were relatively small in number and have largely assimilated and intermarried, the majority of Chinese organizations, including the producers and readers of Chinese-language media, arrived within the last 30 years. These Chinese Brazilians have community organizations of all kinds, representing different economic, regional, cultural, and religious groups or sporting interests; like language skills, community involvement is naturally weaker among assimilating younger Sino-Brazilians. As the ethnic Chinese population in Brazil has grown, academic interest has also increased in Portuguese-, Chinese-, and English-language spheres. General studies since 2008 include an MA thesis in Chinese (Chen X. 2011) and a PhD thesis in Portuguese (Véras 2008);3 academic papers on language use (Jye, Shyu, and Bezerra de Menezes 2009), cultural integration (Shyu and Jye 2008), the history of the Chinese of Rio (Shu 2009), the communities of São Paulo (Stenberg 2012) and Cascavel (M. S. Chen 2010); and an ongoing project on those of Campinas. Some valuable work has also been produced in non-academic Sino-Brazilian media, such as a 2012 article published on the 200th anniversary of known Chinese immigration, which contains a great deal of precise and helpful information about Sino-Brazilian institutions and Sino-Brazilian political involvement (Yuan 2012).4 Other works, such as Daniel Murray’s 2010 essay on transnational Daoism in Brazil, identify Chinese influences in Brazilian society at large without specifically focusing on the Chinese community. In 2013, Jeffrey Lesser (2013), using as his starting point the media reception of the signing of PRC footballer Chen Zhizhao (Zizão) to one of São Paulo’s principal teams, the Corinthians, has recently examined the construction of Chinese and Asian ethnicity in Brazil. However, the particular question of Chinese-language media in Brazil or indeed in Latin America does not yet seem to have been incorporated into studies on the diasporic Chinese-language mediasphere. An Overseas Orthodoxy? 51 Chinese-language media in the Latin American context Since in general the Chinese-language mediasphere in Latin America is little known, it is appropriate to situate the Brazilian case in the wider Latin American context. Pride of place for Chinese-language newsprint in Latin America must go to Havana’s Kwong Wah Po (in pinyin: Guanghua Bao— Glorious China paper), which printed its first edition on March 20, 1928 (Xinhua 2008) and was at that time called Gongnong Bao (Workers’ and peasants’ paper). This was a leftist paper devoted to anti-KMT struggle, and was distributed secretly for fear of reprisals from the Cuban government of the Machado era. The calligraphy for the new title was written in 1960 by CCP politburo member Dong Biwu. It is now bi-weekly and bilingual, is still printed on a turn-of-the-century U.S. press, and contains a Spanish section, with Chinese material largely being drawn from Hong Kong news media. Lopez reports three other earlier Chinese-language newspapers in Havana, the earliest founded in 1914 (Lopez 2007: 179–80). Besides Kwong Wah Po, other early twentieth-century newspapers in Peru, Mexico, and Panama seem also to have disappeared (Lin 2007) as the Chinese-language population declined, and they have not been replaced by Chinese-speaking arrivals. Indeed, few communities in Latin America have a large enough Chinese- speaking community to sustain newsprint. Notable exceptions include El Expreso/Lamei Kuaibao (The Latin American express; El-Expreso.net), founded in 1992, which provides a daily print and online source of information for Chinese in Panama and elsewhere in Central America, and which may well be the only Chinese-language print daily in Spanish Latin America. Its Spanish-Chinese bilingual slogan—“The most-read Chinese newspaper in Panama and Central America, where your advertisements will be most effective”—gives an idea of its contents and business model. Also worth noting is Buenos Aires’ Chinese-language weekly, Horizonte Chino/Agenting Zhoukan (Chinese horizon/Argentina weekly; Horizontechino. com.ar), founded in 1984 and claiming a circulation of 2,500 and a reach of 4,000. Horizonte reports are sometimes featured in the pages of Nanmei Qiao- bao, the most prominent Sino-Brazilian newspaper. Lima’s bilingual Diario Nueva Visión/Xinshijie Ribao belongs to the Fundación Amistad China Per- uano (Peruvian-Chinese friendship foundation) and is the most prominent Chinese-language publication in the Andean region.

Brazilian Chinese-language media in historical perspective All major Brazilian Chinese-language media, and the vast majority of community organizations, are based in São Paulo. Véras, quoting unpublished 2001 coursework by Marcella Siqueira Casseiras at Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São Paulo (Pontiﬁcal Catholic University of São Paulo), notes that, as one might expect, almost all media are located in those areas of the city with the highest Chinese concentration (Véras 2008: 221). Today, there 52 Josh Stenberg are two major Chinese-language daily newspapers, one recently discontinued weekly, and a spate of specialized publications. Locals also report consumption of certain non-local media, and pro-Falun Gong media are a possibility for the near future. Next, I will review the history of the major Chinese-language publications of Brazil in some detail before presenting a cursory overview of the minor ones.

Nanmei Qiaobao and its predecessors The first Chinese-language paper in Brazil was known as Baxi Qiaobao (Jornal Chinês do Brasil; Chinese newspaper of Brazil), which was founded by Taiwanese Wang Zhiyi on March 29, 1960, and ran until the same date in 1985. Its contents included Brazilian news, events in the Chinese community, essays, fiction, etc. Most Chinese news came from North American Chinese- language presses and the Central News Agency (CNA), the Republic of China’s (ROC’s) state agency.5 The paper seems to have been rather irregular, with gaps between issues ranging from over a year to less than a week. Some of the editors, such as the Taiwanese journalist Qian Tangjiang, had close ties to local organizations that were in turn associated with the ROC’s diplomatic representation. In the early 1980s, the paper was renamed Baxi Huaqiao Ribao (Diário Jornal Chinês do Brasil; Chinese Daily Newspaper of Brazil), and was publishing Tuesday to Friday. Not long after resigning from the paper in 1985, Wang left for the United States6 (Baxi Meizhou Huabao 1998: 132). The Hakka immigrant Li Hai’an (1921–2011) took over the rights to publication of Baxi Huaqiao Ribao in October 1985, seven months after Wang’s last issue. Under Li, originally from Meixian in Guangdong, the paper adopted a more PRC-oriented approach and content. Without changing the name, it published three times a week until it stopped printing in 1990 due to competition from other Chinese-language papers and outdated equipment7 (Baxi Meizhou Huabao 1998: 132–3; Yuan 2012). The paper was revived in April 1992; since then it has been publishing five times a week (Tuesday–Saturday), initially under the original name of Baxi Qiaobao, and then from September 1999 as Nanmei Qiaobao. Because of its complicated history, various sources may give 1960, 1985, 1992, or 1999 as its year of foundation. It currently has an editorial staff of 15 (de Sá 2013a). With this new name, the continental aspirations of the publication are clear—accordingly, the PRC ambassadors to various other South American countries also sent their congratulations on the paper’s 1999 renaming—but the circulation and influence of NMQB is still highly concentrated in São Paulo. The paper lists offices in Rio, Curitiba, Recife, Campinas, Brasilia, Fortaleza, and Foz do Iguaçu; however, there are nine locations in São Paulo Chinese areas where the paper can be purchased (three in 25 de Março and six in Liberdade). Prices are listed only in real (2.5 real for one issue; special rates for three-month, six-month, and annual subscriptions), although there An Overseas Orthodoxy? 53 are reports that its distribution reaches “Latin American capitals such as Buenos Aires and Lima.” According to the largest Brazilian daily, the Folha de São Paulo, which describes NMQB as “a bridge to Peking,” the Latin American contents are “attentive to Argentina and Venezuela, countries close to Peking” (de Sá 2013a). In terms of its place in São Paulo media, the NMQB has now matched, in reported circulation, the Japanese-language paper Nikkey Shinbun (News of the overseas Japanese), which serves a much larger and established, but also more integrated, Japanese-Brazilian community. These two Asian-language papers, each with a reported circulation of 10,000, are now the largest non- Portuguese-language publications in the city, now that the once-vibrant immigrant media in European languages and Arabic have declined or disappeared (de Sá 2013a, 2013b). If both this 2013 number and a 2005 figure (4,000 for all Chinese-language newspapers in Brazil) produced by a mainland scholar (Zhu 2011: 64) are accurate, then this would indicate a doubling of circulation in less than ten years, and a quintupling since 1997, when the circulation was apparently 2,000 (Véras 2008: 189). An NMQB editor declined to give current circulation numbers, but informed me that “over 80 percent” of the readership was in São Paulo, with the remainder in “neighboring states [of Brazil] and countries” (Yuan, pers. comm.). NMQB has been associated with official PRC views since at least the tenure of Li Hai’an, who was in 1980 also a founding member of the ACB, the largest Sino-Brazilian umbrella grouping. Li remained the honorary editor of NMQB until his death, making frequent visits to China. Obituaries in the mainland media praised him for his patriotism and efforts for “peaceful reunification” and other PRC policy goals. His memorial service was attended by a wide selection of official Sino-Brazilian dignitaries, and messages were sent from the PRC government’s China Overseas Exchange Association. A memorial service was also held by Chinese communities in Paraguay (Li and Xu 2010; Baxi Qiaowang 2011a). In 1993, Li Jianquan arrived from Beijing, having previously worked as an editor at Huasheng Bao (Chinese voice), a paper devoted specifically to an overseas (or “returned” overseas) Chinese readership. Recommended by the PRC Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, he became the chairman of NMQB in 1999, a position he held until his death at age 54 in 2011 (Baxi Meizhou Huabao 1998: 133; Yuan 2012: 20) Under Li Jianquan’s tenure, NMQB developed even closer ties to PRC media. For instance, in 2005 NMQB began cooperating with Tianjin’s Jinwan Bao (News Tonight) on occasional “South American edition” inserts (Yao 2005), and in 2007, they signed a cooperative agreement with CRI (Zhou and Guo 2007). Thus, although formally independent, it is not surprising that Lee Sang Tien, of the not unfriendly rival publication Baxi Meizhou Huabao, goes so far as to describe NMQB as being “under the auspices of the Chinese government” (de Sá 2013a). Frequently described as the “largest” Chinese-language newspaper in South and/or Latin America, its motto is “Based in Brazil, serving 54 Josh Stenberg Chinese compatriots in South America; the heart bound to the fatherland, communicating in all directions” (Gao 2005).

Meizhou Huabao (Illustrated paper of the American continent) Meizhou Huabao,orBaxi Meizhou Huabao (henceforth BXMZHB),8 developed in a period when Taiwanese migrants were a substantial proportion, perhaps the majority, of the São Paulo Chinese population. Founded in 1983 by Liao Anyi and Yuan Fang, it was published twice weekly between 1983 and 1985, thrice weekly from 1985 to 1993, and as a five-day “daily” (Tuesday– Saturday) since then. Yuan Fang, already an experienced newspaperman before leaving Taiwan, led the paper until his retirement in 1990. In the recent years of increasing mainland immigration to Brazil, the Taiwanese element of the Sino-Brazilian community has been overshadowed and sometimes absorbed, and this is evident also in the relatively low profile of BXMZHB compared to NMQB. There are also some concerns about its future. Lee Sang Tien, who was editor-in-chief before Liu, is quoted in an interview as saying, “Because the Taiwanese organizations [in Brazil] are aging, and some [Tai- wanese] have returned to reside at home [in Taiwan], it has become more exhausting [chili] to operate the paper” (Baxi Qiaowang 2012). In another report, Lee is quoted as complaining about the declining language ability of the younger generation. Circulation was reported at 7,000 in 2007, but had declined to between 5,000 and 6,000 in 2013 (A. Sun 2007; de Sá 2013a). The editorial team of BXMZHB today consists of ten people, with about one-third of the content devoted to Taiwan and China, one-third to Brazil (focusing on São Paulo), and the last third for the rest of the world, culture, and miscellaneous (A. Sun 2007; de Sá 2013a). The stance it takes on cross-Strait relations is essentially a “one country, two systems” approach: “We are a part of China, but with our own political system of complete democracy. This must be maintained in our peaceful reunification with the mainland” (A. Sun 2007). This attitude is, however, easily distinguished from NMQB’s orthodox tone. Since 2011 the chief editor has been Liu Guohua, a Taiwanese man of Shandong origin, who had previously run a Sino-Brazilian charity. In 2013, the thirtieth anniversary of the paper was celebrated at São Paulo’s Taipei Cultural Center, with almost two hundred people in attendance, including ROC cultural representatives. During the celebrations, Liu described the publication as a “non-profit cultural enterprise for the promotion of Chinese [Zhonghua] culture, and to serve overseas Chinese organizations [qiaoshe]” (CNA 2013; Baxi Qiaowang 2012).

Taiwan Qiaobao/Zhoubao (Taiwan paper of overseas Chinese/Weekly paper) Taiwan Qiaobao (TWQB) was a paper that began in 2000, printed on Wed- nesdays and distributed for free on Fridays in Taiwanese restaurants and An Overseas Orthodoxy? 55 businesses of São Paulo. In 2005 it changed its name to Taiwan Zhoubao. Sup- posed to have links to Chen Shui-bian’s Democratic People’s Party, the paper ran until the end of 2012 (A. Sun 2007; de Sá 2013a). Naturally, since it took a strong line on Taiwanese distinctness, it was not popular with the established pro-PRC Chinese organizations and media. In 2003 Huang Haicheng, then the head of the ACB, described this third Chinese-language paper in Brazil in the following terms:

A minority of the Sino-Brazilians from Taiwan were forced to come to Brazil because of the anti-independence and anti-criminal [fandu saohei] actions of the Chiang regime. At the time, these people were all on blacklists, and couldn’t even go back to Taiwan. But when Lee Teng-hui became president [of the ROC] and initiated policies promoting Taiwanese independence, these people returned to the Taiwanese political scene. They had considerable power, and became the vanguard for Taiwanese independence forces overseas in opposition to patriotic overseas Chinese. There are not many of them, but they have considerable political strength, and they have their own paper called Taiwan Qiaobao, which openly espouses Taiwanese independence, and forms a countercurrent in the Sino-Brazilian world. (Huang 2003)

TWQB is presented in a similar way in several other accounts. The considerable support for Taiwan’s independence among Taiwanese residents of Brazil had caused the emergence of a Brazilian branch of Zhongguo Heping Tongyi Cujin Zonghui (association for the promotion of peaceful national reunification) in 1991, an orthodox PRC organization devoted to the Taiwanese question that is still active today (Chen X. 2011: 46–7). The PRC scholar Ye Fei, writing an article to demonstrate the effectiveness of “patriotic” overseas Chinese (Huaren) efforts to suppress Taiwanese separatism in the diaspora, writes that this association “noticed that the TWQB, a newspaper operated by the Taiwanese authorities in São Paulo, openly placed over a map [of Taiwan] the separatist slogan ‘Taiwan is a country.’ The Association for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification undertook positive action immediately, and forced TWQB to remove those words” (Ye 2004). It is not stated what action exactly they undertook; it must be noted also that nowhere else have I found the suggestion that TWQB was actually an organ of ROC representatives, and the Liberdade organization it was associated with, the Associação Cultural Brasil-Taiwan, is not an agency of the ROC. Nevertheless, the incident, whatever its details, points to considerable tension in the Chinese-language press and community of the recent past.

Non-local media The website of the ACB includes a list of Chinese-language media in Brazil, with contact information for NMQB, Baxi Qiaowang (Web for overseas 56 Josh Stenberg Chinese in Brazil; henceforth BXQW) (see “New Media” below), BXMZHB, and TWQB—the four major São Paulo Chinese-language news media publications. Interestingly, mainland-based media outlets are listed alongside local Chinese-language media: Xinhua (Rio and Brasilia); CCTV, Phoenix Satellite TV, and CRI (Rio); People’s Daily (Brasilia); and Science and Technol- ogy Daily (São Paulo) (Baxi Qiaowang 2011b). The geographical distribution, rather interestingly, is divided according to the focus of the medium—for politics and international affairs, Brasilia; for entertainment (and colorful reportage), Rio; for business, São Paulo. In an age when Chinese-language readers or viewers in Brazil can access many of these resources online and PRC media have close contact with local Chinese communities, the line between local and PRC media is not as clear as it once was. Clearly, the various news media are aware of each other and the mainland-based media pick up some of their story ideas from local Chinese-language media. In recent years, various PRC media seem to have increased their focus on Latin America, and chosen Brazil as their base in the region. In 2010, as part of its global expansion program, CCTV opened a Latin American base in São Paulo, reportedly because of its advantageous infrastructure. Agreements with Brazilian networks were also being pursued to bring CCTV to local viewers. Twenty of the Latin America-based employees were to be in São Paulo (PRC Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2010; Balbino 2010). Jiangsu TV followed suit in 2011 (Antunes 2011). Since 2011, Rio has hosted the offices of CRI in South America (CRI 2009), and in 2012 it was reported that PRC search engine Baidu was considering opening an office in São Paulo (CRI/Xinhua 2012). NMQB and BXQW are also the principal sources for news about the Sino- Brazilian community that may be of global interest. For instance, the 2009 São Paulo murder of Qingtian migrant Ye Xueyan was picked up by ChinaNews (Zhongguo Xinwen Wang) and the US-based Qiaobao (Overseas Chinese paper) and from there distributed to Chinese-language media outlets, online and print, inside and outside China.

Other publications Beyond the major news media, the bulk of the remaining publications—other than those related to Chinese culture and the Hakka community—are religious in nature. They include Buddhist publications Ciji Shijie (The world of Tzu-Chi) and Foguang Shiji (Blia América do Sul; The century of Buddha’s light) by the major international organizations BLIA (Buddha’s Light Inter- national Association) and Tzu-Chi (Shyu and Jye 2008: 225–6; Cassiano, quoted in Véras 2008: 221; Bie 2008; Chen X. 2011: 29). There is also a bilingual Boletim Mensal da Paróquia de Sagrada Família (Missão Católica) (Monthly bulletin of the parish of the holy family (Catholic mission)) (Véras 2008: 218, 221). The Nanmei Fuyin (Zhou)Kan (South American [weekly] gospel paper, known in Portuguese as Informativo Semanal da Igreja Evangélica de An Overseas Orthodoxy? 57 Formosa—South American Evangelical Formosan Church weekly) is an organ of the local branch of a prominent Taiwanese evangelical church. Given the circulation and scope of such publications and the fact that the lion’s share of their material is drawn from other sources, they do not have a very markedly local proﬁle. However, twentieth-anniversary remarks give a sense of the formation and purpose of this type of publication:

So that our compatriots living in Brazil could have high-level spiritual nour- ishment, … with the support of the Evangelical Formosan Church in Southern California and the Evangelical Formosan Church Communication Center, the South American Gospel Paper was ﬁnally born. (Quoted in Yebaihe zhi chun 2010)9

Such publications demonstrate that transnationalism does not only play a crucial role in news-oriented publications. For religious publications too, at the intersection of community, ethnic, linguistic, spiritual, and media expression, transnational networks are an ever-present factor in the Sino-Brazilian experience, since the publication comes about as an imagined community of Christian-Taiwanese diaspora, specifically assisted by a USA branch. Also, as a Taiwanese evangelical publication in Brazil, this magazine is a reminder that, despite a general shift toward a kind of PRC orthodoxy in the bulk of Chinese-language publishing, there is still a diversity of voices operating, particularly in the cultural and religious sphere. Wanning Sun (2013: 440) identifies a general shift in global diasporic Chinese- language media from an earlier “difference between Hong Kong-owned media (independent of the PRC) and Taiwan-owned media (anti-PRC)” to a current “intense opposition between pro-China media and the equally globally circulating pro-Falun Gong media.” It is notable that Epoch Times launched a Brazil-based Portuguese web edition in November, 2012. The Chinese edition of Epoch Times for South America also claimed a circulation of 1,500 in 2012 for all of South America (less than 0.2 percent of the global Chinese-language total). Their published breakdown situates the entirety of this circulation in Buenos Aires. There are also monthly Spanish-language editions in Argentina, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic, with a total circulation of 19,100 (Epoch Times 2012). Correspondence with the general director of the Portuguese-language edition of Epoch Times confirms that currently the Chinese-language Epoch Times is not on sale in Brazil.

Historical progression A mainland researcher, writing before the closing of TWQB, summed up the distinction between the Sino-Brazilian dailies in the following terms: “The editors and readers of NMQB are largely mainland compatriots (dalu xiang- qin), and they report completely, objectively, and fairly about China. The editors and readers of MHZB are largely Taiwanese compatriots (Taiwan 58 Josh Stenberg tongbao), and report largely information from Taiwan; TWQB has a green [i.e. Pan-Green] masthead” (Bie 2008). Naturally, the divisions between these papers reflected deeper fissions within the Sino-Brazilian population (Véras 2008: 189). Until the 1980s, the Sino-Brazilians were a small ethnic population, formed of layered migration, with Taiwanese businesspeople and their rapidly accli- matizing and intermarrying descendants forming the majority. Thus, from 1960 to 1985 there was only their irregular Taiwanese publication. Between 1985 and 1990 there were publications owned both by Taiwanese and mainland Chinese migrants. With the closing of Baxi Huaqiao Ribao (predecessor of NMQB) in 1990, São Paulo was sustaining two Taiwanese papers with divergent political views but no regular paper with mainland content. This situation did not last long. With the influx of PRC immigrants intensifying in that period and thereafter, at the same time as the decrease in the size and influence of the Taiwanese community, the Taiwanese press has declined in importance, and NMQB has clearly become the dominant Chinese-language medium. NMQB’s strongly pro-PRC stance and its connection with PRC organizations fit reasonably closely with the reading habits migrants will have brought with them. At the same time, the large community associations are now largely brought together under the auspices of the ACB. The Taiwanese alternative is declining, and the surviving publication presents the “one country, two systems” vein of thinking that is not hostile to the PRC. Putting the Brazilian situation in international perspective, it would seem that the Chinese-language landscape is distinguished by the decline of Taiwan-owned media without the development of pro-Falun Gong media, which latter remains absent from the local Chinese-language mediasphere. A pro-Taiwan, anti-PRC voice persists, but it appears to be demographically reaching the end of its feasibility and already has a limited local reach and little or no Internet presence. The dominant media voice is pro-PRC, reflecting the fact that the local Chinese-language readership overwhelmingly comprises recent (post-1980s) mainland immigration.

Content, sources, and purposes of NMQB NMQB is the most widely read and easily accessible Brazilian Chinese- language publication, and its views of the world, of China, of Brazil, and of overseas Chinese at present adhere quite closely to PRC media orthodoxy. Based on an examination of issues of the newspaper that appeared in 2011 and 2014, the general format varies little: the front page generally features mainland news, with ads covering the bottom third of the page. The following pages are generally composed of additional mainland news items, drawing material from Chinese newspapers and global news services. There is also a page each of Taiwanese, Hong Kong/Macau, and world Chinese (tianxia Huaren) news, the latter accompanied by half a page of ads, mostly for travel agencies. Next there is a page devoted to Latin America, one or two pages on Brazil An Overseas Orthodoxy? 59 and Sino-Brazilian organizations, and one or more pages on business. The B section revolves around entertainment and sport, with a focus on Chinese and Brazilian events. Many of the later pages consist of Chinese-language ads and classified listings, sometimes filling over half the page. There can be little doubt about the informal or semi-formal affiliations of NMQB. Within two weeks of its reincarnation in 1999, it had received the congratulations of Xinhua, People’s Daily, CRI, and many other state or state-controlled PRC media (Sina 1999). In 2003, then chief editor Li Jianquan, addressing the Second World Chinese Media Forum in Changsha, commented that a “mandatory condition of operating and developing a [Chinese] paper in Brazil” was the “maintenance of a close but separate relationship with [Chinese] community organizations” (Li 2003). Although there is no presence of international Chinese-language media empires in Brazil, NMQB relies heavily on the US-based Qiaobao, a purveyor of orthodox PRC views, for its Chinese and international content, and to a lesser extent on Xinhua and China News Service, both of them PRC agencies. Much of the Taiwanese news (usually one or the two pages) is drawn from Taiwanese papers as well as Qiaobao; sometimes contributions from CNA, the ROC’s state agency, are included, but generally not on sensitive issues. There are also frequent contributions, often on Taiwan politics, from Xiamen-based Haixia Daobao (Straits Herald), a Taiwan-watching mainland publication. Mainland papers are used extensively for mainland and international news, while sources such as the American press, The Daily Telegraph, and UK tabloids The Sun and The Mail are used for variety items. The Hong Kong China News Agency (Xianggang Zhongguo tongxun she) is frequently used for Hong Kong news, but here too Qiaobao remains the dominant source. The Latin American section of the news is sometimes original NMQB content, in some cases credited to a particular journalist; other items are taken from the Argentine Chinese-language weekly; and sometimes from the China News Service. The Brazilian page is all locally produced, mostly from translations out of the Portuguese-language papers. Alongside weather, emergency numbers, news hotlines, and the restricted license plates that are not allowed on a particular day, this page always features translated headlines from the major Brazilian papers: Correio Braziliense (Brasilia), O Estado de S. Paulo, Folha de S. Paulo (São Paulo), and O Globo (Rio). The business news includes black market and official RMB–real conversion rates. There is a presumption also in the sports and entertainment pages that Brazilian events are relevant, as for instance when more than half a page was devoted to the retirement of Brazilian football star Rivaldo in 2014. Advertisements in the Chinese newspapers give an indication of the needs, tastes, and businesses of an economically diverse Chinese community. Services or enterprises advertised include Korean beauty salons, Chinese-language driving schools, dentists, storage, Chinese doctors in both TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) and Western medicine, Portuguese lessons, accountants, travel agencies, computer repair services, notaries and translators, language 60 Josh Stenberg schools, music schools, Buddhist temples, acupuncture, massage, gemstones, nightclubs, imported Chinese lingerie and seafood, legal advice, long-distance telephone services, Chinese restaurants and supermarkets, medical products (especially propolis, a resinous mixture produced by bees), airlines (South African Airways; Air China), Chinese children’s clothing, and air condition- ing. Sometimes there will also be community announcements—such as try- outs for the Chinese soccer team of a mock World Cup event. Often the most prominent advertisements are for companies (both Brazilian and Chinese) offering aid in negotiating Brazilian Customs procedures. The advertisements for hire range from masseuses and employees in fast food outlets to white-collar jobs. A typical listing reads: “Hiring: female employee to mind the store, low pay with commissions, must understand a little Portuguese.” Another reads: “Hiring: hairdresser (permanent employment), high salary, room and board.” Yet another reads: “A large Chinese company … hiring a translator with the following qualifications: proficient in oral and written Chinese and Portu- guese; English an advantage; 25–40 years old; male or female; legal Brazilian residence … generous salary. Send one Chinese and Portuguese resumé each.” According to Li Jianquan, editor of the NMQB until his death in 2011, “the basic purpose of an overseas Chinese-language newspaper is to serve the immigrant community. The greatest profit for immigrants is to be found in the existence and development of the receiving country. As we correct the biased information of the Chinese-Brazilian immigrant community, we also do our utmost to give resident Chinese [qiaomin] the local news that is most directly profitable to them. The principle is: observe the situation, debate little, help a lot.” Li combines the two principles of “correct” (i.e. pro-PRC) reporting with community service as the twin goals of NMQB (Li 2003). This practice is in line with Chinese-language media elsewhere in the diaspora, where the readership uses the papers as “consumer’s guides to local business and services” (W. Sun 2013: 439). This seems to match findings elsewhere regarding the purpose of Chinese-language community papers (Sun et al. 2011). Since perhaps half of the Chinese-speaking immigrants in Brazil have arrived in the last 15 years, there is not much necessity or motivation to produce reporting greatly at variance from PRC news media. Sun notes that in English- speaking Western countries a new generation of wealthy PRC students “bring with them a closer allegiance to the political and ideological values of the PRC,” thus changing the style and content of Chinese-language media (W. Sun 2013: 442). The case of Brazil shows that analogous effects can take place— shifting the Chinese-language media toward PRC models—even if the immigration wave is not privileged, educated, or indeed overwhelmingly legal. A Brazilian education is not the ambition of PRC’s urban middle class, but the pursuit of economic opportunities and social mobility—the classic immigrant dream—has nevertheless created a migrant wave that has largely swallowed up older Chinese-language readerships. Naturally, PRC academics have been inclined to see NMQB’s projects as indicative of patriotic overseas Chinese involvement in PRC soft power goals and cite initiatives such as NMQB’s An Overseas Orthodoxy? 61 special Portuguese version during the 2008 Olympics, focusing on Sino-Brazilian economic ties and investment (Cheng 2012). Despite its general PRC orthodoxy, at a local level even NMQB is still arguably more inclusive and positive about religious organizations than would be the norm with usual PRC media. For instance, NMQB provides sympathetic and extensive coverage of the local Zu Lai temple, which is associated with the Buddha’s Light International Association, a Taiwan-based organization with ties to the KMT.

New media Besides newsprint, the principal Chinese-language medium in Brazil is the Internet; there is no Chinese-language television station (Chen X. 2011: 29) or local radio, and although there are listeners to CRI’s broadcasts, it seems likely that most of them today also access this online rather than via short- wave. BXQW is the parent site for a group that hosts most of the huashe (Chinese community) organizations, including the ACB. BXQW was founded by the Brazilian-Chinese General Association for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification in 2006, and is dedicated to “reflecting the principal characteristics of Brazilian overseas Chinese (Huaren, huaqiao) work and life, giving all kinds of information to compatriots overseas (qiaobao) and providing help to overseas Chinese in Brazil as they strive to make a living and develop” (Lin 2007). The association’s web page, with its frequent updates, is perhaps the best place to find out about the organizational activities of Sino- Brazilian life, including such Brazil-specific events as the carnival. Other prominently posted items include interviews with business figures such as the head of the Brazil operations of Air China or the Bank of China. In 2005, NMQB opened its own website, NMQBW.com.br, which provides much of the same content as the print version, and also links to NMQB.tv, which provides the entire newspaper in 3D pageflip technology, a week later. Beginning in December 2011, NMQB has also produced online weekly Mandarin-language news reviews, also hosted at NMQB.tv, generally six to eight minutes long. The first item on the first day was a laudatory segment on a celebratory banquet for departing PRC ambassador Qiu Xiaoqi, and other items included information about Sino-Brazilian meetings and charitable activities, as well as news items using Brazilian footage with no particular connection to the Chinese community. While the website features a separate section with clips from mainland entertainment programs, the video news reviews do not generally feature news from China; the focus is on providing local news in Chinese. NMQB also includes several features on their website: a 2011 interview with a police official at the Chinese Consulate General in São Paulo, assuring the Chinese community that anti-contraband operations were not targeted at ethnic Chinese, although ethnic Chinese might be among those apprehended; New Year greetings from Li Haifeng, head of the PRC Overseas Chinese 62 Josh Stenberg Affairs Office; interviews with successive São Paulo PRC consuls general; and Li Shaoyu, head of the ACB, explaining the new rules for the immigration amnesty. The videos have a certain popularity—the amnesty, for instance, has been visited over 1,100 times since it was posted in 2011; sampled weekly news videos from 2013 and 2014 had view counts in the range of 500 to 1,000. This modest usage indicates that for many of the services advertised or on sale, a paper copy of the newspaper in the Chinese areas of São Paulo may be more convenient than consultation of the online copy, especially for the less tech-savvy older population. Another popular website is Brasilcn.com. A portal for all things relating to Sino-Brazilian affairs, it offers many of the same features as NMQB and the NMQB website: emergency numbers, classifieds for rentals, community news. Some of its features can give an insight into other aspects of Sino-Brazilian online life, such as the various Chinese-language QQ circles for Brazilian residents who are, for instance, from Guangdong or Qingtian, those who want to learn Portuguese, those who need help with translation or who share business interests. A QQ circle advertised on a site almost exclusively for the exchange of advertisements and messages, Baxi521.com, is called “Chinese heart, Brazilian dream” (its blurb runs: “Welcome to join our big family of Chinese youth in Brazil”). The site also has a particular feature to facilitate finding factory suppliers in China for export products. Brasilcn.com also links to both Chinese and Brazilian shopping options (JD.com and Mercadolivre.com.br), media (O Globo and People’s Daily), and the principal Chinese-language site for Brazilian soccer fans: Bami Shequ (Brazilian [football] fan community; see Brazilfans.cn). Unlike NMQB, social interaction here can be less formal, and one finds also personals and gossip. The site’s business section offers immigration and business visa support, advice on the Brazilian market, plane ticket sales, and translation services. Thus, while the site’s community news presumably serves local residents and the links to Brazilian media imply that many readers are Portuguese-Chinese bilingual, other sections of the site are clearly directed at people in China who are considering Brazil as a place of business, residence, or travel. Sites such as Brasilcn.com are a reminder that, unlike print publications for ethnic communities, online publication may also attract non-resident Chinese- language readers who are interested in Brazilian issues for other reasons. The sites in question are too small to have reliable metrics, but when one considers that residents of Brazil cannot constitute more than 0.02 percent of Chinese- language Internet users, it seems logical that a substantial amount of access would occur in the PRC and that some of these sites are clearly geared to trans-Pacific visitors.

Conclusions Mainland Chinese migration to Brazil in the last thirty years coincides with the economic development of China and its increasing integration into the global An Overseas Orthodoxy? 63 economy, including links between the two countries highlighted by their mem- bership in the loose group of nations known as BRICS—Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa. Sino-Brazilians are now overwhelmingly of recent mainland Chinese origin and have a stronger economic incentive to retain links to the PRC than previous generations. At the same time, the PRC has increased its official cultural support of learning about Chinese through such channels as the ten Confucius institutes and classrooms in Brazil, more than in any other country in Latin America, five of them in the São Paulo region (Confucius Institute Online 2014). The growing use of the Internet as a medium of communication, even for people of modest means, allows for the smoother maintenance of family links. Barriers to travel, while still substantial, have also considerably diminished, making the experience of initial immigration less absolute. There is a growing community of Chinese people in Brazil with close ties to the mainland, and, since they are less isolated from their place of origin, they are also less pressured to integrate. While the plurality of voices seems to decrease in the Chinese-language media with the decline of Taiwanese-owned media, new media are inherently complicating questions of transmission and readership, and with the easier flow of information, media such as NMQB have become a source as well as a purveyor of news. At the same time, the readership of Sino-Brazilian online sources may well not be predominantly located in Brazil, and the majority may consist of readers in the PRC with an interest in Brazil. If the Chinese-language mediasphere has a role in identity-formation, one of the aspects of Web 2.0 is that it offers an increasingly wide range of (not necessarily exclusive) identities—for instance, a reader of NMQB online in Taiwan could be encouraged to envisage him/herself as part of a cultural China that spans the world; but a Chinese- language reader in São Paulo might also be invited to imagine a community of interest or identity with the Chinese of Paraguay or with his/her non-Chinese local co-residents. The origin or publishing context of a news item is not always central to the Internet reading experience; Chinese in Brazil only have a small amount of news content relating to their particular situation. In commercial terms the role of the print newspaper remains central. Despite the presence of other Sino-Brazilian forums online, Chinese-language print media—primarily in the form of NMQB—thus remains the dominant resource for a growing Chinese-speaking immigrant community, and their classified sections, advertisements, and local reporting provide much of the information new immigrants need to do business, find people from the same native place, learn Portuguese, school their children, navigate customs, bring family members over, and understand the challenges and opportunities of Brazil. As such, newspapers—including their online versions—are the most accessible pool of local knowledge for all the challenges of daily life, while simultaneously fulfilling an ideological role by striving to present both a positive view of Brazil and a valorizing role for overseas Chinese as representatives of the PRC. The media produced by Sino-Brazilian organizations and individuals and directed at Sino-Brazilian readers increasingly mirror PRC publications. Local 64 Josh Stenberg organizations are closely associated both with PRC organs abroad and with the local diplomatic representatives. Through the creation of NMQB’s news- casts online or the emergence of sites such as BXQW.com, orthodox PRC visions of overseas Chinese identity dominate the Internet as well as traditional media. The processes of assimilation or acculturation are of course at work in Brazil as elsewhere, but those Brazilian-raised individuals affected by it do not visibly participate in Chinese-speaking media, being instead more engaged as a group in their position in the diverse and complex patterns of ethnicity in Brazil. In Brazil as elsewhere, the shift of ethnic Chinese immigrant demographics, combined with concerted PRC efforts to incorporate diasporic media into their “soft power” rhetoric, have contributed to a media landscape that is nearly as orthodox as PRC media themselves. Although Taiwanese and religious voices also persist, offering a degree of lingering diversity, and new media is complicating questions of readership, it is still most appropriate to conclude that a PRC patriotism dominates Chinese-language media just as it does organizational life, encouraging a strong Chinese political and cultural identity and striving to incorporate the Sino-Brazilians into narratives of PRC diplomacy and harmony.

Notes 1 My work for this volume was generously supported by funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. 2 Li Shaoyu, also known by the Cantonese transliteration Li Siu Yuk and the adopted name Heida Li, is notably also a local São Paulo municipal politician and an associate of William Woo, the most prominent Asian-Brazilian politician. Hong Kong-born, she was elected in 2008 as an alternate council member (serving some months in 2010) on the São Paulo city council. Her declared support and geographical poll results show the support of Chinese and Japanese Brazilians (Radar Municipal 2010), and Chinese- language media hailed her election as an important feature of Chinese representation in São Paulo. There is scope for future research into the political organization and representation of Chinese and other Asian groups in São Paulo. 3 My thanks are due to Xiamen University professor Guo Yucong, who provided me with the MA thesis of his student Chen Xiaoli, and to Daniel Bicudo Véras, who generously provided me with a copy of his PhD. dissertation. 4 Yuan Yizhou is not credited for the article except via his e-mail address. I am indebted to Mr. Yuan for subsequent correspondence in February–March 2014, in which he answered various questions about Chinese-language media in Brazil. 5 Baxi Meizhou Huabao actually reports “Zhonghua tongxunshe,” but since I can ﬁnd no reference to such a news agency, I take it to mean “Zhongyang tongxunshe”—i.e. CNA. 6 Besides Wang’s work in newspapers, his most notable publication is Zhang Daqian Baxi Huangfei Zhi Badeyuan Sheyingji (photograph album of Zhang Daqian in the ruins of Badeyuan in Brazil), printed in 1979 by Taipei’s National Museum of History. 7 My own work (Stenberg 2012), drawing on records of the Fundação Joaquim Nabuco as well as a report in Huaren Shijie, have previously given this date as 1989. Baxi Meizhou Huabao (1998: 132–3) has more complete information and an exact date, and so I take 1990 to be correct. An Overseas Orthodoxy? 65 8 This paper is known sometimes for international purposes as Baxi Meizhou Huabao, whereas within Brazil it is usually known simply as Meizhou Huabao.To avoid any ambiguity I use the acronym “BXMZHB” here. It is also known in Portuguese as Jornal Chinês “Americana” (Chinese “American” newspaper). 9 This quote is translated from a blog post by “Yebaihe zhi chun” (a pseudonym meaning “a spring of wild lilies”). It has been taken from an unidentiﬁed source, apparently the South American Gospel Paper, which itself credits “the Chinese community” as its source. Neither this publication nor any of the others seems to have a web presence, and I have no relevant print records. However, I see no reason to doubt its authenticity.

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Tian Gong

Italy and Spain have attracted a growing number of Chinese migrants in recent years, yet there is very little information about their lives, circumstances of migration, or their relationship to either their host countries or China. There is even less information on how their media and cultural practices assist in their everyday efforts to maintain their Chinese identity in a foreign country. More specifically, there are several questions that remain unanswered. How are Chinese communities in Italy and Spain forged? What kind of Chinese-language media can people access in these communities? What are the experiences and expectations of the Chinese migrants who are involved in producing local Chinese-language media? How do these media outlets respond to China’sefforts to make Chinese media content available to Chinese living overseas? This chapter tries to answer these questions, drawing on findings from an extensive audience survey and in-depth interviews with key media practitioners and engaging in analysis of some key events. First, it outlines the history and current situation of Chinese immigrants in Italy and Spain. Then it reviews the development of the Chinese-language media in these two countries and analyzes interviews with several editors and an audience opinion survey. The final part of the chapter examines the relationship between the Chinese-language media and Chinese immigrants, as well as the role of the Chinese government in these domains.

Chinese immigration in Spain and Italy Although Spain and Italy are two different countries, their histories of Chi- nese immigration in the twentieth century have been similar. Each began with Chinese merchants, mostly from China’s Zhejiang province, selling acces- sories, clothing, and tea along the streets. Most of them came from two cities in Zhejiang province: Qingtian and Wenzhou. The first Chinese from Qing- tian arrived in Spain in 1893, and one year later, someone else from this city appeared in Italy (Li 2002: 93). In the 1930s and 1940s, several Chinese circuses arrived in Spain for European tours, and circus members later settled in Spain with their families (Beltran-Antolin 1998: 214). During this period, 70 Tian Gong some Chinese migrated to Italy from France and joined the Chinese immigrants who had already settled there. Milan was the first city with a Chinese settlement, followed by Bologna and Florence (Carchedi and Ferri 1998: 262). The Spanish Civil War began in 1936 and, the following year, the Second Sino-Japanese War started. Many of the Chinese who had been living in Spain left, either to escape the war or to participate in China’s resistance against Japan. However, when the Second World War began, some Chinese living in France and Germany fled to Spain, where they concentrated in Madrid, Barcelona, and Valencia (Beltran-Antolin 1998: 215). After the war, Rome became the preferred destination for Chinese immigration (Carchedi and Ferri 1998: 262). The Spanish government did not establish diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China until 1973. Before that, the Spanish government had offered annual scholarships to students from Taiwan, some of whom ended up staying. According to government records, there were 167 Chinese in Spain in 1961. This population did not exceed 1,000 until 1983 (Beltran-Antolin 1998: 217). Although the Spanish immigration statistics are not absolutely accurate due to differences in standards and the complexity of immigration, these numbers still suggest that the Chinese community in Spain was very small before the 1980s. The situation in Italy was very similar. Until the 1970s, the Chinese population in Italy was only several hundred. According to Italian census data, there were only 402 Chinese holding residence permits in 1975 (Carchedi and Ferri 1998: 264). In France, about 20,000 Chinese people had already settled by 1975 (Live 1998: 102), while in the United Kingdom the Chinese population had reached 154,363 by 1981 (Parker 1998: 74). Compared with these two neighboring European countries, the Chinese communities in Spain and Italy were vir- tually nonexistent. However, as a result of both internal and external factors, the number of Chinese immigrants in Spain and Italy increased much more rapidly in the 1980s. The main internal factor was the legalization of immigration. Due to a need for outside labor, these two countries have offered a range of opportunities for legal immigration since 1985. The new immigration laws were intended to protect the social and political rights of foreign workers in Spain and Italy and to stabilize the labor market. However, they also made these countries attractive to potential illegal immigrants. “One’s fate can be changed immediately after a legalization process. The social implications for potential immigrants cannot be ignored. Every legalization process has been accompanied by a big wave of illegal immigration” (Li 2002: 495). The number of Chinese immigrants increased after each period of legalization. In 1985, the Ley de Extranjería, Spain’s first immigration law, was enacted. The law granted legal status to any migrant who met the requirements for asylum status and submitted an application to the authorities (Law 5/1984 1996, ch. II, art. 4). Many illegal workers began to acquire asylum status and the law began to attract more immigrants. From 1985 to 1991, Bridge or Barrier 71 Spain’s foreign population increased by an average of 7 percent annually, compared with a 2.2 percent annual increase between 1975 and 1985 (Ortega- Pérez 2003, para. 6). The number of Chinese immigrants was 1,598 before the enactment of the immigration law, and it increased to 2,455 one year later—a growth rate of more than 50 percent. A second similar legalization happened in 1991. As a result, the number of Chinese increased from 4,090 to 7,024 during one year (Beltran-Antolin 1998: 217). Then, an amendment in 1996 to the 1985 law “recognized immigration as a structural phenomenon and acknowledged that … foreigners had a set of subjective rights” (Ortega-Pérez 2003, para. 20). This amendment included family reunification within its framework, which was another factor increasing the number of Chinese immigrants. Like Spain, Italy had an increasing number of Chinese immigrants after introducing Law 943/86 in 1986—the country’s first legislation governing the entry and residence of migrant workers—which enacted the International Labour Organization’s 1975 convention on the rights of foreign workers. In tandem with Law 943/86, an amnesty was also declared, “designed to regularise the status of approximately 105,000 undocumented migrant workers, who had found jobs in the underground economy” (Cillo 2007: 7). During one year the Chinese population grew from 1,824 to 9,880; three years later, the population had reached 19,237 (Carchedi and Ferri 1998: 264). Besides these internal changes, there was also an external factor that led to an increase in immigration to both these countries: in the late 1970s, China began to open its doors to the outside world. The ensuing economic reforms led to a global wave of emigration, and those countries with open immigration policies, such as Spain and Italy, attracted many Chinese migrants as a result. Since the 1990s, more and more Chinese immigrants have come to Italy and Spain to join their families. In addition, the Chinese bosses of shops and restaurants prefer to hire people from their hometown. As a result, even if these countries’ immigration policies have become stricter in recent years—a result of the economic crisis and ongoing social conflicts over immigration—the number of Chinese immigrants is still growing. According to the National Statistics Institute of Spain, there were 171,128 Chinese living in the country in 2011 (Instituto Nacional de Estadística 2012). Based on the research of Fang Xiao (2011: 150), director of the Lu Xun Center of Chinese Study in Spain, most Chinese immigrants in Spain live in Catalonia (30.8 percent), Madrid (26.03 percent), Valencia (10.84 percent), and Andalusia (8.77 percent). A report by the Italian National Statistics Institute shows that there were 277,570 Chinese holding a legal residence permit in Italy in January 2012. Among these residents, 48.7 percent are female and 26.3 percent are less than eighteen years old. This suggests that many of these immigrants are living with their families. After Moroccans, Chinese were the second largest immigrant group in Italy in 2010 and 2011 (Istituto Nazionale di Statistica 2012: 2). Although the Chinese are not the biggest ethnic group in Spain, they play an indispensable role in the Spanish economy. In 2009, there were 12,000 enterprises run by Chinese, 4,000 of which were restaurants; some 3,500 were 72 Tian Gong small shops called “todo cien”—“dollar stores”—that sold hardware, kitchen- ware, decorations, and other goods. In addition, these immigrants also owned 2,000 grocery stores and 1,000 warehouses. About one in twelve Chinese in Spain owned a small or large enterprise (Yu 2010: para. 6). The number of Chinese businesses continues to increase despite Spain’s economic crisis. From December 2011 to July 2012, 10,000 local Spanish business owners gave up their businesses, while during the same period 9,000 immigrants opened new companies. Among these immigrants, 17.7 percent were Chinese (Huang 2012: para. 4). Most of the Chinese immigrants in Spain work in the catering and textile industries. According to Fang (2011), the educational level of most Chinese in Spain is relatively low: “They depend on the ethnic group and live in a very narrow social world.” Many Chinese immigrants do not speak the local language and have few opportunities to improve their language skills. As a result, “most Chinese immigrants in Spain work in restaurants, bars, grocery stores, and wholesale textile markets,” where it is not necessary for them to have advanced foreign language skills (Fang 2011: 155, 157). The better-educated immigrants often work at law firms, travel agencies, or accounting firms opened by other Chinese immigrants, but this group is very small and their businesses usually only serve the Chinese community. As in Spain, Chinese immigrants in Italy work mostly in businesses within the Chinese community, which include catering, wholesale markets, and grocery stores. In addition, tailoring has been especially well developed by this ethnic group in recent years (Zhu 2009: para. 6). The main reason for their isolation is the language: “Most working-class people, especially those who live in the Chinese community, cannot communicate in the local language” (Bo 2009: para. 1). Immigrants from China’s Zhejiang province constitute the most important group of Chinese in Italy, with about 90 percent coming from this coastal province (Zhu 2009: para. 3). The number in Spain is over 70 percent (Chen 2008: para. 1). In recent years, more people from Fujian province and Liaoning province have come to southern Europe, and there are also students from other areas—not only mainland China but also Hong Kong and Taiwan. The Chinese communities in Spain and Italy have gone through a high- speed expansion during the last three decades. However, growth in Italy has slowed down since 2011. In 2010, 49,780 new Chinese immigrants arrived in Italy, whereas only 26,903 came in 2011 (Istituto Nazionale di Statistica 2012: 2). Moreover, another amnesty in 2012 only attracted a few hundred Chinese to submit their applications for immigration (Bo and Liao 2012: para. 3). The situation in Spain is similar. The economic crisis in Europe starting in 2009 has had a long-term impact on immigration in southern European countries. The authorities have set a very restrictive standard for people who want to demand asylum status. For instance, their employer must pay about 20,000 euros in taxes for them to submit their application, and few employers have agreed to do so. These restrictions are likely influenced by high unemployment and the xenophobia of local residents caused by the economic crisis Bridge or Barrier 73 (Poggioli 2012: para. 2). Facing this situation, many immigrants have sought opportunities in other countries. “Between 2009 and 2011, the number of migrants from southern Europe—those most hurt by the impact of the brutal recession and severe government spending cutbacks—moving to other EU states jumped by some 45 percent” (Hamel 2013: para. 2). Many Chinese immigrants were also seeking a way to avoid the impact of the economic crisis. Some of them left for other countries in Europe; others went back to China. In 2012, I conducted a survey in order to better understand the family background, living standards, and media consumption practices of Chinese immigrants in Spain and Italy.1 During the survey, many Chinese said that they did not want to change their nationality to Spanish or Italian. As one bubble tea shop-owner in Prato said: “Only a few people get naturalized because Italian nationality has no advantage over a residence permit for us. It’s inconvenient to go back to China with a foreign passport, and other Chinese may question your motives if you are naturalized.” A similar idea was expressed by a bar owner in Barcelona: “Our children can’t get Spanish nationality if we don’t have it. But I don’t want it. If I get naturalized, how can I go back to China? We will eventually ‘luo ye gui gen’.” Many respondents used this Chinese expression—luo ye gui gen. The literal meaning is that a fallen leaf always returns to the roots. These people clearly believe that their “roots” remain in their hometown, a traditional concept that is very powerful within the Chinese community. Meanwhile, the rapid development of China’s economy in recent years is a big attraction for these immigrants, especially when they are confronting a massive economic crisis in their country of residence. Those who have already built wealth in their adopted country can still choose whether to leave or to stay. However, those immigrants who lost their jobs during the crisis may have little choice but to leave if they cannot find another job quickly. Thus, they focus especially on new opportunities arising in their hometowns back in China. A bar owner in Barcelona said: There are now fewer Chinese in Spain because jobs are fewer after the economic crisis. Although Chinese people always have some savings they can live on for a period of time after losing their job, the opportunities to earn money are now less in Spain than in China. So many people have chosen to go back to China. I myself also want to go back to Qingtian, but before we go back, we’re exploring ideas about opening a business once we get there. For example, I’ve read in the Chinese press that people in Jiangxi province raise peacocks for sale, and that the profit is very good. This kind of idea is inspiring for people who want to go back.” However, according to this respondent, his son, who has already inherited some of the family business, thinks differently: “He doesn’t want to go back to China. In his mind, his home is here in Spain.” The Chinese communities in Spain and Italy are younger than those in Great Britain, France, and the Unites States, and the majority still belong to 74 Tian Gong the first generation. They are predominantly working-class small business owners without much formal education. They have neither the motivation nor the time to improve their education or language skills, and formal qualifications in these areas are not required when they get a job within the Chinese community. For these reasons, the local non-Chinese culture has limited influence on these Chinese immigrants, and even if they have been settled in their country of residence for a long time, they still have a sojourner mentality. Because of limited foreign language skills and closer emotional connections with the motherland, China is still one of their first choices when they want to move again. However, the second generation has grown up with a different cultural identity and may see themselves as having different choices. So what kind of ethnic media emerge in these communities?

The Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy Compared to the situation in Great Britain and France, the Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy have a very short history. When Sing Tao Daily and United Daily entered the United Kingdom and France in 1975 and 1982, respectively, the small number of Chinese in southern European countries was not sufficient to attract the attention of these global Chinese media groups. So Chinese media did not emerge there until the arrival of migrants from China in the 1980s. The first Chinese-language newspaper in Spain appeared in the late 1980s. Called Zhongguo Ren (Chinese),2 it was created by a Taiwanese immigrant in Madrid. Later, in 1990, a Chinese journalist from Shanghai began publishing Nan Ou Huaren Bao (Journal of the Chinese in southern Europe) in the Spanish capital. The journalist, Lin Chengguo, had worked for a newspaper in Shanghai before he went abroad, and although he had some experience, his journal disappeared after several issues due to financial problems. Meanwhile, the first Chinese-language media outlet in Italy was a monthly created by Milan’s Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry in 1992. Hua Qiao Tong Xun (News of Chinese immigrants) mostly published news for local Chinese immigrants, but included some news from mainland China and Hong Kong. It was eight pages long and was distributed free of charge, with a circulation of about 1,000 (Zhu 2009: para. 20). Consistent with the pattern of development of Chinese-language media in other diasporic settings, newspapers are still the most important Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy. In total, there are ten Chinese-language publications in the two countries (see Table 4.1). Most of these papers are published once or twice a week. The only monthly is the Chinese-Italian magazine Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in Italia (China in Italy), which first appeared in 2001. Aside from Spain’s free newspaper, Lian He Shi Bao (United times), which relies on advertising revenue alone, all the other publications have a retail price. Similar to its counterparts in other countries, Lian He Shi Bao relies heavily on advertising, as well its complimentary nature. In fact, this free periodical was created as a result of cutthroat competition. According to Zhan Liang, the director of Bridge or Barrier 75 Table 4.1 Chinese-language newspapers in Spain and Italy Name Year of Type of Number Price Country launch periodical of pages (euros) Hua Xin Bao 1994 2 times/week 88 1.5 Spain Zhongguo Bao 2000 weekly 80 1.5 Spain Ou Hua Bao 2002 2 times/week 70 1.5 Spain Qiao Sheng Bao 2003 weekly 80 1.5 Spain Lian He Shi Bao 2008 2 times/week 72 free Spain Ou Hua Lian He Shi 1997 2 times/week 32–40 1.5 Italy Bao Xin Hua Lian He Shi 1999 weekly 28 1.5 Italy Bao Ou Zhou Qiao Bao 2001 2 times/week 32 1.5 Italy Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in 2001 monthly 72 3.0 Italy Italia Ou Zhou Huaren Bao 2004 weekly 28 1.5 Italy

Source: Data collected by Tian Gong from the newspapers and their websites.

Pu Hua Bao (Chinese in Portugal), several Chinese newspapers in Spain wanted to publish a Portuguese version. Facing these new competitors, “we decided to publish a free newspaper in Spain in 2008 for our own survival, because the market in Portugal is too small.” Lian He Shi Bao is actually not the only free Chinese-language newspaper in southern Europe. According to several Chinese merchants and salesmen at clothing stores along the Piazza Vittorio in Rome, they also receive Xin Hua Lian He Shi Bao (The new China) free of charge, even though the price printed on the newspapers is 1.5 euros. The Chinese in Prato can also get this weekly at no cost in Chinese restaurants. All the other newspapers are sold in grocery stores and through subscription. According to the publishers, the total circulation of all Chinese-language newspapers in Spain is between 4,000 and 10,000, while the figure for Italy is about 10,000. Over the years there have been several attempts to start Chinese-language radio and television stations in Spain and Italy. However, there have always been problems with financing and human resources because these two types of media require substantial investment and professional staff. It has also been challenging for immigrants to get a whole local channel for themselves, or a permit for broadcasting. Before the development of the Internet, Chinese immigrants could only receive Phoenix TV (Hong Kong) and CCTV (mainland China) by paying a company to set up a satellite receiver on their roof. The rapid development of the Internet in the twenty-first century has led to the growth of Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy. In fact, all the local Chinese periodicals have built websites, and some have put their newspapers online for subscribers. Not only does this expand their market reach, it also allows newspapers to update their content in more cost-effective and efficient 76 Tian Gong ways. At the same time, Chinese students have created several websites as forums for young people to exchange information. After several years, these websites have expanded beyond the student population to include local information useful for workers and business people. Such sites are widely shared by Chinese users in a number of European countries, although users from a given country may have their particular preferences. For instance, Xihua.es is popular in Spain, Huarenjie.com is popular in Italy, and Xineurope.com is popular in France. Moreover, the Internet has brought many television programs and films from mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan to these Chinese communities. Through websites like Youtube, PPS.tv, and iQIYI.com, people can watch directly or download their favorite Chinese television series or films—legally or illegally. Legal problems aside, technological advances have broken down the wall between Chinese domestic media and Chinese ethnic media abroad, with programs that are available through the Internet filling any gaps in locally produced Chinese media.

A press facing challenges and difficulties Interviews with three Chinese media industry leaders point to the difficult situation facing the Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy.3 According to Tao Xinyi, editor-in-chief of Ou Hua Bao (Euro Chinese news) in Spain, there is no daily newspaper in that country because “the history of Chinese immigrants in Spain is relatively short, and they have a low level of education.” Due to a lack of resources and professional personnel, Chinese newspapers began as weeklies or bi-weeklies, and readers became accustomed to this publishing schedule. If a daily Chinese-language journal existed in Spain, few people would pay 1.5 euro a day to read it. At the same time, many immigrants genuinely depend on local Chinese-language newspapers for news and information. According to one survey respondent, “Merchants have little time to sift through the enormous quantity of information on the Internet to find what they need,” and so they rely upon Chinese-language newspapers to do this work for them. Chinese immigrants “need the local Chinese periodicals for news about the Chinese community,” especially those who want to find a job or an apartment. This dependence is the reason many Chinese newspapers are not free. None of the editors I interviewed think that the Internet would defeat the Chinese-language press. As Wu Jie, editor-in-chief of Ou Zhou Qiao Bao (Chinese migrants in Europe) in Italy, remarked, “The superiority of the press is its credibility accumulated over many years. Readers trust our choice of information and news. Websites can offer some information very quickly, but they often copy from other sources that we don’t know if we can trust or not.” Another reason given by Tao Xinyi was that many Chinese businessmen do not have time to locate information through the Internet. The Chinese-language newspaper is always an important way to access news about the local Chinese immigrant community. Such news is always the key component of the ethnic media, and it is not covered by mainstream media. Many first-generation Bridge or Barrier 77 immigrants do not know much about the Internet, and Chinese-language television programs do not offer useful local information. For this reason, the press is still very important for many Chinese immigrants. But editors have worked to develop their own websites. As Tao remarked, “The second generation has grown up. They use the Internet much more than their parents. But many of the younger immigrants take over their parents’ businesses, and they still need the Chinese-language print media to run their advertisements.” Although the three editors I interviewed do not fear the challenge posed by the Internet, like their counterparts in other countries with Chinese media they have all encountered some difficulties. One problem is lack of money. The economic crisis has reduced both the quantity and price of advertisements, so it has become harder for these media to survive. According to the editors, it is also difficult to recruit professional journalists. People working for the ethnic media need to understand both Chinese and the local language, and they must also know how the media work. However, if a person satisfies all these requirements, he or she will likely be competitive for better-paying jobs. As a result, it is hard for the Chinese-language media in these two countries to enlarge their influence. “We are marginal for both the European countries and China,” Wu claimed. Since 2005, the company publishing Ou Hua Bao has also published a Spanish weekly named El Manderin. This free newspaper has been sent to different sections of the Spanish government, including the office of the prime minister. Some local companies, schools, and research centers have also sub- scribed to it. The publication was aimed at introducing Chinese culture to Spanish society and allowing the Chinese community to be heard by the government. However, it has not attracted much advertising, so beginning in 2007 the company decided to publish it online instead of in print, and only twice a month instead of weekly. Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in Italia is the only magazine in Italy published in both Chinese and Italian. The target readers of this monthly are mostly Ita- lians and second-generation Chinese immigrants. Hu Lanbo, editor-in-chief of Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in Italia, said it was so hard for the magazine to survive that she had to open a travel agency to keep the publication running. Hu is not the only editor who runs other businesses. The Spanish Chinese Media Group (Xi ban ya Huawen chuan mei ji tuan), which publishes Hua Xin Bao (Huaxin Chinese periodical) and Zhongguo Bao (Journal of China), also runs an online shopping website (http://100.eulam.com/). People can book a table in a Chinese restaurant, reserve a room for Karaoke, and buy and sell goods through this website. Ou Hua Bao helps the local government to organize Chinese cultural events every year. Most of the Chinese newspapers in Italy and Spain use other businesses to solve their financial problems. However, there is still an exception. Wu Jie, chief editor of Ou Zhou Qiao Bao in Italy, insisted that his company concentrates only on the newspaper. He emphasized that, “if your newspaper is good enough, you don’t need to do other things to earn money.” 78 Tian Gong Relations between host country and China Most overseas Chinese media practitioners claim that they serve as a “bridge” between China and their country of residence, helping immigrants integrate into the local society. At the same time, they differ in their relationships with local media. The editor-in-chief of Shijie Zhongguo is the most willing to communicate with the local media. She has written several books in Italian, and accepts interviews with many mainstream Italian media organizations, including Rai3, La7, La Stampa,andLa Repubblica. In contrast, Wu Jie, chief editor of Ou Zhou Qiao Bao, expressed hostility toward the Italian media: “We don’thave much contact with them, because they are anti-Chinese.” Tao Xinyi explained more specifically why Chinese immigrants in Spain are not willing to communicate with mainstream Spanish media: “They always focus on the dark side of the Chinese community. Sometimes, they garble a statement that was made by a Chinese person, or exaggerate it in order to attract Spanish people’s attention and to fulfill their imagination.” This hostility was clearly demonstrated and even magnified after “Opera- tion Emperor” in Spain. On October 16, 2012, the Spanish police arrested eighty-three people suspected of money laundering. Fifty-three of the suspects were Chinese. On the day of the arrests, Ou Hua Bao published a short article about the operation, dubbed “Operation Emperor,” on its website. During this nationwide operation aimed at disrupting tax evasion, the police raided many Chinese factories and damaged some of their facilities. This gave rise to anxiety among many Chinese business owners. Three days later, Ou Hua Bao published a comprehensive report on the operation and included comments made by some of the Chinese involved. Over the ensuing month, the website of Ou Hua Bao posted more than forty articles on this topic, covering the protests of several Chinese associations against local media, editorials about Chinese immigrants’ lifestyle, and worries about discrimination. Several Chinese newspapers in Italy reacted to the police operation in Spain in similar ways. For instance, Ou Zhou Qiao Bao published an article about the operation titled “The revelation of ‘Operation Emperor’ for the Chinese in Italy,” which compared the Chinese communities in the two countries, concluding that “Chinese businesses in Spain and Italy are much alike.” However, according to the article, Chinese business owners in Italy had been through much larger raids. The article quoted Mr. H. who, after reading the news about Spain, said, “I’m going back to China for some rest. The economy is depressed. Maybe when the Italian government is short of money, it will imitate its neighbor and arrest us.” The author of the article estimated that the Spanish government used the incident to “entertain the local people and transfer social conflict” to the Chinese community. At the end of the article, people were reminded to consult an accountant and pay their taxes (Ou Zhou Qiao Wang 2012b). Thus, not only have these media shown their hostility toward the local media, they have also expressed great concern or doubt about the local government. Bridge or Barrier 79 By contrast, the Chinese government appeared to be supportive and responsible. A spokesperson for the Chinese Foreign Ministry said: “The Chinese government requires Chinese citizens abroad to abide by local laws. At the same time, we hope that local governments can proceed according to the law and protect the lawful rights of Chinese citizens” (Laomao 2012b). This statement was published in Ou Hua Bao three days after the police raid. The Chinese media in Spain and Italy do not just tell Chinese stories; they sometimes participate in Chinese affairs. On September 10, 2012, the Japanese government announced the “purchase” of the Diaoyu Islands (also known in Japan as the Senkaku Islands). Two days later, the website of Hua Xin Bao published an article from Ren Min Wang (the website of China’s People’s Daily). Its title was “Diaoyu Islands, have we ‘lost’ them?” The next day, Ou Hua Bao published on its website a statement from the All-China Youth Federation protesting against the Japanese move. The newspaper also interviewed several Chinese immigrants and published their comments about this affair: “The Chinese in Spain support their motherland and protest against Japan. They express their point of view on websites and in newspapers to demonstrate their attitude” (Laomao 2012a). Simultaneously, Ou Zhou Qiao Bao also published a statement from the Chinese community in Milan in support of a protest against the Japanese government. On the anniversary of the September 18 “Mukden Incident” of 1931, a number of Chinese in Rome, Milan, and Madrid organized demonstrations near the Japanese embassies in these cities. The local Chinese media reported these events. Ou Hua Bao quoted the president of the Union of Zhejiang in Spain as saying: “We haven’t forgotten the national humiliation. The Diaoyu Islands have been Chinese territory since ancient times. This affair lets us know that the prosperity of the motherland encourages all Chinese people around the world to stand up and protest” (Mu 2012: para.10). In addition, on September 19, 2012, Ou Zhou Qiao Bao published on its website a joint statement from fifty Chinese associations in Italy. The statement said that they would participate in all protest activities. “We want to tell the world that we defend the territorial integrity of China. All the Chinese in Italy will unite to protect the sovereignty of China and the dignity of the Chinese nation” (Ou Zhou Qiao Wang 2012a). This affair shows clearly that the Chinese media and immigrants in Spain and Italy have a great emotional connection with China that has the potential to turn into a nationalist movement. Most of the Chinese media in these two European countries are in communication with mainland Chinese officials. Many Chinese media organizations in Europe participate in the conference organized every two years by the Association of Overseas Chinese Media in Europe (AOCME). This association was created by several Chinese newspapers in 1997 and now has more than sixty members. Chinese officials always participate in the conference. In 2012, five Chinese newspapers in Italy and Spain sent representatives to the tenth conference held in Vienna, where they expressed different opinions about the economic crisis that all the members were facing. According to Ou Hua Bao’s 80 Tian Gong Tao Xinyi, “There is less income from advertising due to the economic crisis.” She proposed exploring new technologies in order to open up new markets, or organizing cultural and commercial events to generate new revenue. But Dai Huadong, a representative from Qiao Sheng Bao (The voice of Chinese immigrants), focused on the potential for help from China:

I know that the Chinese government organizes courses run by professors and researchers in China for journalists of overseas Chinese media organizations. That’s good. But the airline tickets are expensive for us. So I have a proposal for the Overseas Chinese Aﬀairs Oﬃce [OCAO]. Is it possible to invite professors or researchers to come to Europe, so that we can get some professional training classes in a nearby country? This may help to improve the quality of our media.

Since 2006 the OCAO has organized annual advanced study and training classes for overseas Chinese media workers. For one or two weeks, several Chinese professors and media professionals teach Chinese culture and media practices to editors and journalists who have travelled back to China to participate. After the course, there is always a trip to a speciﬁc Chinese province. During the 2012 conference, the Director of OCAO’s Communications Department, Guo Jinling, also participated in the discussion. According to her, serving overseas Chinese media is one of the most important missions of the Communications Department of OCAO:

Each year, we organize media courses and investigative trips in China for overseas Chinese media employees. If you need to contact Chinese institutions, media researchers, or Chinese companies, our oﬃce endeavors to help you. We will do whatever we can to help you resolve your problems.

In addition to their relationship with Chinese oﬃcials, Chinese-language publications in Spain and Italy also have connections with media in China. They can source articles or news about China through Chinese media organizations like the China News Service, Xinhua News Agency, and Xin Min Wan Bao (Evening news). Besides these publishing arrangements, there are also some instances of economic cooperation. According to Tao Xinyi, Ou Hua Bao was paid by a provincial Chinese government to publish a special page about that province, from which many people have emigrated. The relationship between the Chinese media in both Spain and Italy and mainland China is very close.

Audience opinion A picture of the Chinese-language media in Spain and Italy is not complete without taking into account the Chinese migrant audience. Are immigrants interested in the content oﬀered by Chinese ethnic media? Does media Bridge or Barrier 81 consumption play an important role in their daily lives? My survey from 2012 provides some clues. The survey results indicate that nearly 90 percent of respondents in Spain use a personal computer to access news and information via the Internet, and their favorite websites include not only local ones but also popular websites in China, such as China Yahoo! and Sina. Some respondents also use software such as PPStream (www.pps.tv) and PPTV (www.pptv.com) to access Chinese television programs and news. Around 75 percent of survey respondents reported that they read local Chinese-language newspapers, and almost all used at least one kind of Chinese-language medium to get information. More than 35 percent used smart phones and other mobile devices to access Chinese- language information on the Internet. Some local Chinese-language media have already been using such methods to enlarge their audience. For example, Ou Hua Bao has opened a platform on WeChat (www.wechat.com) to send news to their followers every day. In explaining why Chinese media were important to them, survey respondents gave a variety of answers. A young woman working in a Chinese travel agency in Barcelona said: “The economic and political trends of government here can inﬂuence our lives. If we want to understand the situation in Spain, reading news in Chinese is more convenient than in Spanish. So the Chinese- language media are important for us.” The owner of a clothing store in Rome explained:

I’d like to know how other Chinese people live in this country, such as how they earn money and how they run their business. Besides, I can also get to know about new immigration laws or regulations from the Chinese press. It’s very important for me.

Some respondents found the advertisements in local Chinese papers useful as well. Many liked to read the recruitment and housing rental pages. A porter working in a grocery store in Barcelona said: “When I don’t have a job or I want to find a new job, I look for it in the Chinese newspapers or on the Xihua.es website. There are always recruitment ads in the Chinese media specifically looking for Chinese people.” Nostalgia was also a reason many people liked the Chinese-language media. A waitress in a bar in Milan said that she could “read news about her hometown, Qingtian, in Xin Hua Lian He Shi Bao.” She goes back to Qingtian every year, and said she was happy to see the “big changes” happening there. Some people who worked in restaurants and clothing shops said they liked to read the newspapers because they always have work breaks during the day, and reading the papers is a form of entertainment. Respondents who thought that the Chinese-language media were not important also had specific reasons. They said that there was not enough useful information and that the content was updated too slowly. Some of them explained that the media were useless for them because they worked so 82 Tian Gong hard every day to earn money that they didn’t have much free time to read a newspaper or access the Internet. A construction worker who had just lost his job explained:

The Chinese here are all very busy if they have a job. They may go to sleep at two o’clock in the morning and get up at ﬁve. You can ask all the people here in Fondo [in Barcelona] if they read newspapers or watch TV, and most of them will answer you that they have no time; they just want to earn money. Even if someone reads the newspapers, they focus on the parts that talk about how to earn money, or the immigration laws. Other parts of the newspapers are useless.

Respondents were asked to choose the type of information they were most interested in from a list of fourteen categories. Most people indicated that they were most interested in news pertaining to local Chinese immigrants and news about China: more than 60 percent chose one or both of these two options. Their attention to news about China can be interpreted as an index of their nostalgia for family and hometown. At the same time, almost half of the survey participants were also interested in news about their country of residence. Even if their proﬁciency in the local language is rather limited, they are still eager to understand the society in which they are now living. Under- standing local politics and the local economy, immigration laws and regulations, and local residents’ views about Chinese immigrants is crucial for this ethnic group. Asked about the most useful news in the local Chinese media, a tailor working in a factory in Prato (in Tuscany, Italy) said that “there are many illegal workers in Prato and they don’t have a proper salary because they don’t have a residence permit. So they are most interested in news about the [2012] amnesty.” Without local language skills, Chinese immigrants ﬁnd the Chinese- language media to be absolutely necessary for seeking out the information they want. These media also provide a way for immigrants to understand how to obtain important legal documents, such as residence permits and driver’s licenses. Besides politics and the economy, many respondents also mentioned entertainment, although the Chinese in Italy showed much greater interest in entertainment and advertising than their counterparts in Spain. In contrast with Chinese-language publications, the local mainstream media did not get much attention from Chinese immigrants in Spain and Italy. Nearly 80 percent of respondents reported that they did not use local media. This lack of engagement is likely due to Chinese immigrants’ limited language skills—only 30 percent of respondents indicated that they could speak and write in the local language.

Conclusion In the eyes of most local citizens, the Chinese communities in Spain and Italy have always been insular and close-knit. According to an interview with a Bridge or Barrier 83 Spanish lawyer conducted by Ou Hua Bao in 2012, the Chinese people do not integrate into local society, and many Spanish think that “Chinese people don’t want to have contact with the outside world, and they are mysterious and strange.” Chinese immigrants “work twenty-four hours a day and don’trest,” and “they make only Chinese friends” (Qiao 2012). The Italian book I Cinesi non muoiono mai (The Chinese never die), published in 2008, echoes these perceptions, revealing how most Italians imagine Chinese immigrants as closed and mysterious (Oriani and Stagliono 2008). In their reactions to the “Operation Emperor” raid in Spain, Chinese immigrants and diasporic media alike have clearly shown their doubts about local people and their host society, as well as the boundaries they have already built between themselves and the local culture. Immigrants who cannot use the local language depend on the Chinese media. So even though many Chinese diasporic media claim that they are willing to help immigrants integrate into the local community, they actually hinder this integration and work mostly to achieve an internal cohesion within the Chinese community. Ironically, China’s media expansion into the diasporic space further hinders the Chinese migrants’ integration into mainstream society in Spain and Italy. When the economic crisis began, the Chinese-language media ran into serious financial difficulties. Economic stagnation and unemployment in the host countries led to lower advertising revenue and diminished readership, and many immigrants contemplated going back to China, where they could find more employment opportunities in China’s growing economy. As an integral part of the diasporic Chinese community, it is impossible for the producers of media to ignore this phenomenon. In response, many media organizations have maintained close relations with the Chinese government in order to get a stable source of information about China and platforms for new business opportunities. Meanwhile, the Chinese government has shown its willingness to enhance its “soft power” within the overseas Chinese community by organizing media training classes and forums to attract overseas Chinese media. At the same time, the diasporic Chinese media and immigrants find themselves facing local governments that are not always “friendly.” The 2012 raid in Spain is not an isolated case. According to the Chinese media in Italy, similar raids have also taken place there. These incidents suggest that there is growing distrust between the local culture and Chinese immigrants in both countries. As Wanning Sun has argued: “Migrants are often positioned uneasily in relation to the nation-building projects of both the country of origin and the destination” (Sun 2006: 12). In the case of Chinese migrants in Spain and Italy, there seems to be a strong tendency to gravitate more toward their motherland than the local society.

Notes 1 In 2012, I conducted 298 interviews in areas with large Chinese communities, such as Fondo in Barcelona, Usera in Madrid, Plaza Vittorio and Casilina Street in 84 Tian Gong Rome, Montello Street in Milan, and Pistoiese Street in Prato. Of those surveyed, 155 were male and 143 were female. Only seven of the survey respondents had local nationality; the others all had Chinese nationality. Among the respondents, 77 percent were between sixteen and forty-five years of age. Many of them worked in restaurants or clothing shops, respectively occupying 26 percent and 21 percent of the survey group. More than 90 percent could speak and write in Chinese. In contrast, only a few could speak Spanish or Italian fluently. Nearly 20 percent did not use the local language at all, and 50 percent of the whole group said that they could only speak a little. Only five of the interviewees were born in their country of residence. More than 30 percent of them had lived in their country of residence for more than ten years, while 60 percent had lived there for two to ten years. 2 All the English titles of Chinese-language newspapers mentioned in this chapter were translated by Tian Gong, based on their Chinese title or local language title. 3 Three editors agreed to an interview to discuss their opinions about the local Chinese- language media. They were Tao Xinyi, editor-in-chief of Ou Hua Bao in Spain; Wu Jie, editor-in-chief of Ou Zhou Qiao Bao in Italy; and Hu Lanbo, editor-in- chief of Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in Italia in Italy.

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Online at: http://qwgzyj.gqb.gov.cn/hwzh/147/1395.shtml. 5 Unique Past and Common Future Chinese immigrants and Chinese-language media in France

Nan Dai

France was the first European country to receive Chinese immigrants, with a history of Chinese immigration extending over 300 years. The Chinese diaspora in France represents the largest and most established overseas Chinese community in Europe (excluding Russia), with population estimates ranging from 800,000 to 100,000, according to data from France’s National Bureau of Statistics (Liu Z. 2013). Among France’s Chinese media outlets, European Times (Ou Zhou Shi Bao in Chinese; Nouvelles d’Europe in French) is the best-known and most widely circulated Chinese newspaper in Europe. Despite this, however, there is, to date, no study in the English language of the development of the Chinese-language media in France. Based on historical research and a survey of readers of European Times, this chapter aims to shed light on the role of Chinese media among the Chinese communities in France. I argue that the development of media and communication has been crucial in the reproduction and transformation of diasporic Chinese identities. The Chinese-language media are an integral part of the Chinese social and cultural landscape in France. Diasporic media and cultural consumption practices significantly shape the process of migrants’ identity formation, and the Chinese media function as the most important channel of communication between Chinese and their new society. In what follows, I will first provide a brief history of Chinese migration in France, together with a narrative of the earliest development of the revolutionary press. This is followed by an account of the development of the Chinese-language media in France by new migrants from the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in the era of economic reforms. While these first two sections draw on historical research, the last section will be based on my own empirical research, including a large-scale survey I conducted on the uses of the Chinese-language media by Chinese migrants in France, as well as interviews with media practitioners in the Chinese media sector. The goal of this research is to understand the rules and historical development of the Chinese media in France.

A forever changing landscape: Chinese immigrants in France and the earliest press The first recorded Chinese person in France was a twenty-three-year-old man named Huang Jialue from Fujian province, who sailed to France in 1702 with 88 Nan Dai a French missionary. According to Ye Xingqiu (2009), the French National Library possesses Huang’s diary, covering October 24, 1713 to September 1714—the earliest data recorded about the Chinese in France. By the 1970s, there were about 20,000 Chinese people in France, who had arrived in three phases of immigration. The first of these was during World War I, when the British and French recruited nearly 140,000 Chinese laborers (mainly from the northern province of Shandong). After the war, most of the survivors returned to China, but about 3,000 of them stayed in France. Later, between 1919 and 1921, the number of Chinese in France was bolstered slightly for a second time—this time with an influx of some 2,000 students (including Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiaoping), a small number of whom stayed permanently. Finally, between 1926 and 1933, small traders from Qingtian, a small city located in eastern China, came to Europe to make a living, and some of them settled in France (Guangdong Overseas Chinese Affairs Office 2004). The expulsions of ethnic Chinese from Southeast Asia in the 1970s led to a wave of European immigration. Due to the “anti-Chinese wave” in the Indo- Chinese countries—Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos—many Chinese immigrants in Southeast Asia fled to France as refugees. Gao and Kou (2011) claim that according to recorded statistics, France officially received a total of 111,453 Indo-Chinese refugees between 1977 and 1986, and that about 60 percent of these people were of Chinese descent. Most Chinese immigrants in France have settled near the Porte d’Italie, the Porte de Choisy, and the Porte d’Ivry, in Paris’s thirteenth arrondissement, where Paris’s Chinatown is located today. Because these areas had a number of high-rise residential buildings, the housing prices were relatively cheap. The French government provided some of the Chinese with positions in state-run factories producing automobiles and candy. A few years later, with some savings, these immigrants began to open small businesses such as restaurants and garment factories. Compared to other Chinese communities, the Indo-Chinese refugees in France were a relatively independent sub-group within the Chinese community. In 1989, a “World Indo-Chinese Association” was established in Paris, and currently there are additional associations, including the “Laos in France” association, the “Laos Thakhek Association” and the “J Laos Su Wang Zonta Association.” However, the influence of these associations has already decreased. Also, many Indo-Chinese refugees are creating other groups, and developing place-based identities based on their ancestral homes, including Chaozhou, Guangzhou-Zhaoqing, Hakka, and Hainan. The Chinese immigrants from Wenzhou and Qingtian, in Zhejiang province, had arrived in Europe in the early twentieth century. They came mainly to earn a better living. Qingtian is famous for its stone, and in 1875, Qingtian stones began to be exported to Europe. However, during World War I many stone factories closed down, and this had a significant impact on the lives of local residents. At the same time, the populations of Qingtian and Wenzhou increased rapidly and the uneven distribution of farmland and food shortages forced residents to leave their homes to make a living, with many of them Unique Past and Common Future 89 migrating to France. In the late 1970s, when the “going abroad tide” gradually took shape in China, the people of Wenzhou and Qingtian took advantage of the foundation laid by their predecessors and left for Europe, often using “family reunion,”“heritage,” and “travel to visit relatives” as reasons to emigrate. These two large-scale emigration waves formed the overall appearance and pattern of the Chinese diaspora in France today. In the process of forming sub-groups within the overseas Chinese immigrant community, geopolitical and dialect ties play an indispensable role. Researchers have noted this characteristic among Chinese immigrants, and have pointed out that sub-groups within overseas Chinese communities are generally formed informally through family and friendship networks (Shah 2005). If we follow ancestral, geopolitical, and other factors, we can divide the Chinese immigrant community into a number of categories. As mentioned earlier, a large group of Chinese immigrants, often referred to as Indo-Chinese, are from Southeast Asia, and they speak a variety of dialects of the Chinese provinces from which they originally came. In addition, the Chinese immigrants from Wenzhou and Qingtian in Zhejiang province form a very large group within France’sChinese community. There is also a Cantonese-speaking population, originating in Guangdong province and Hong Kong, and this group makes up a major component of Chinese communities across Europe, including in the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany. Although this group is not the largest component of the Chinese community in France, the internal Cantonese groups have always had a strong Cantonese cultural flavor, which is reflected in Chinese- language media. For example, Sing Tao Daily, a newspaper that caters to the Cantonese group, still uses traditional Chinese characters and vertical type. Fujian is a well-known source of emigration from China. In the late 1980s, many Fujianese were smuggled into Europe, but since they lacked strong social networks, most of them were employed by migrants from Zhejiang province in the construction, textiles, food and beverage, retail, and other low- income fields. Until the late 1990s, due to their “irregular migration” status, these new immigrants from Fujian caused a lot of concern. But because of the existence of many illegal immigrants and their mobility across European countries, it is very difficult to assess the size of the Fujianese immigrant community in Europe; one estimate puts it at more than 50,000 (Li 2002). Chinese students make up another unique sub-group within the Chinese immigrant community. The current number of Chinese students in France has reached 35,000, and with an increase of 10,000–12,000 students annually, China has become the second-largest source of foreign students in France (China News Service 2012). Members of this group mostly come to study in universities and colleges and have relatively high education levels, thanks to which they have very rich human resources and strong local links; but at the same they are highly mobile. After the reform period, many Chinese students hoped to migrate to France after graduation, so their education was seen as a migration pathway. However, in recent years, because of the economic slowdown in Europe and immigration policy restrictions—and also because of China’s rapid 90 Nan Dai development—more and more students have chosen to return to China after receiving their diploma in France. The Taiwanese constitute another migrant group, including those who were born and raised locally as well as those who moved to Europe from Taiwan. In some cases, even those migrants who do not have ancestral roots in Taiwan but who strongly agree with the political authorities in Taiwan are also considered “Taiwanese” (Li 2002). With the total number of immigrants increasing, the composition of the Chinese immigrant community is constantly changing. After 2000, the “northerners” from the northeast region of China increased very rapidly. However, since the northerners do not have strong local networks to rely upon, and since many of them have illegal resident status, their living situation in France is more difficult. This phenomenon is becoming a new problem within France’s Chinese community. Like Chinese-language media in other countries, the development of Chinese- language media in France is closely related both to the history of Chinese immigration and to the history of social change in China over a period of a century or so. However, what makes the Chinese-language media in France unique is that in its earliest phase of development, the press was closely associated with the gestation of revolutionary thought among the first generation of communist leaders, who later became the founders of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the PRC. Beginning in the early twentieth century, a large number of young Chinese students came to France to study, and they worked part-time to support their education. This movement, which began in 1912, was called the “Work-study program in France,” and it was organized by Li Shizeng, Wu Yuzhang, and Cai Yuanpei, all of whom became famous educators and revolutionaries in China. After the May Fourth Movement of 1919, thousands of young students from poor families came to France through the introduction of the France-China Education Association, to study modern knowledge and ideas. Through this program, many elite intellectuals, including Cai Hesen, Zhou Enlai, and Deng Xiaoping, came to France. It was in France that they were exposed to Marxism, organizing the Communist Youth League and the Eur- opean branch of the CCP. As part of this movement, many Chinese publications were founded with the aim of communicating the ideas of advanced Western democracy. According to a recent study (Ye 2009), the first Chinese-language publication in France was Xinshiji Zhoukan (New Century Weekly), created in Paris on June 22, 1907. The publication was funded by Zhang Renjie and edited by Li Shizeng and Wu Jinghuan. On August 15, 1916, a Chinese magazine called Lü Ou Za Zhi (Travel to Europe) was created by Li Shizeng, Cai Yuanpei, and Wang Jingwei, all of whom later became prominent figures in China’s revolutionary history. This magazine, which was referred to as “a banner for Chinese scholars residing in Europe” (Xiao 2003), was intended to introduce the modern scientific and cultural knowledge of Western countries. It was published twice a month, with each issue having around thirty pages. As well as propagating Western scientific and technical knowledge, it recommended modern Western ideas and Unique Past and Common Future 91 provided reports on significant events in China and around the world, including reports concerning overseas Chinese in Europe. The magazine’s main purpose was to foster communication among scholars in Europe and offer them a connection back to China. After publishing a total of twenty-seven issues, it ceased publication in March 1918. During this period, newspapers were categorized on the basis of the different political parties in China. In 1922, the Chinese Communist Youth League in Europe, led by Zhou Enlai, founded a magazine called Shao Nian (Youth), which was the earliest publication from the CCP in Europe. In the same year, the Chinese Nationalist Party (CNP; the Kuomintang/Guomindang) in France published a magazine called San Min Zhoukan (San Min Weekly). According to incomplete statistics (Sun 1999), in the 1920s there were about nine Chinese newspapers published in France. Xian Sheng (Previous Voice), which belonged to Zhongguo qingnian dang (the China Youth Party), was published in 1923; Chi Guang (Red Light) was published in 1924 and belonged to Chi guang she (Red Light Group). Zhou Enlai was an editor at Chi Guang, and also wrote nearly forty articles for it. In 1925 there were also two magazines published by the CNP in France: Guo Min (National); and San Min Zhou Bao (Three Peoples’ Weekly). Sun (1999: 73–79) has pointed out that “these newspapers are closely linked to the political struggle in China and represent different political ideas; each holds its own political beliefs. But also because of this, there have been battles among these magazines and newspapers, to claim different political ideas and defend their own political positions. These kinds of debates had a great influence on Chinese society in France at that time.” From a global perspective, it is a universal phenomenon that ethnic media will be concerned about their homeland. However, during these early decades of the twentieth century, overseas Chinese newspapers showed a stronger and more intense focus on political change in their home country. Like the Chi- nese press in many other countries, the Chinese press in France was actively involved in supporting the 1937–45 war in China against Japan; in fact, the development of Chinese newspapers in France saw its climax during the second Sino-Japanese war. On the occasion of this national crisis, overseas Chinese newspapers, regardless of their political backgrounds, put aside their disagreements, and the anti-Japanese movement became the main focus of each newspaper. In 1935, Wu Yuzhang, a CCP member, created the newspaper Jiu Guo Bao (National Salvation), which later changed its name to Jiu Guo Shi Bao (National Salvation Times). In its first edition, on December 9, 1935, a letter1 written by a Chinese immigrant in the United Kingdom argued that the idea of “anti-Japanese [resistance] is not the claim and attitude of one party, it is the demand of 400 million Chinese people” (letter to the editor, Jiu Guo Shi Bao, December 9, 1935). On December 14, 1935, the newspaper published another reader’s letter, which stated that “no army could be both anti-Japanese and anti-Chiang Kai Shek at the same time” (letter to the editor, Jiu Guo Shi Bao, December 14, 1935). The newspaper responded to this letter by summarizing the CCP’s attitude toward Chiang Kai Shek: “It 92 Nan Dai depends on his attitude to Japan. If he is ‘anti-Japanese’ then he is our friend, but if he is ‘pro-Japanese’ he is our enemy” (editorial, Jiu Guo Shi Bao, December 14, 1935). The idea of “associating with Chiang Kai Shek to resist Japan” attracted wide attention and provoked serious discussion within overseas Chinese communities. Later, Jiu Guo Shi Bao regularly reported on and publicized the anti-Japanese national salvation movement with full-page layouts. The paper played a very important role in encouraging overseas Chinese to develop patriotic enthusiasm. This Chinese-language newspaper in France was also sent to other countries in Europe, America, Asia, and Australia, and it also used the addresses of subscribers to a weekly magazine in Shanghai called Xin Sheng (Rebirth) to reach readers in mainland China. Another interesting fact worth mentioning is that Jiu Guo Shi Bao has a deep connection with today’s largest Chinese daily in France, the European Times. The European Times has always been printed at Roto Presse Numeris, which is also where Jiu Guo Shi Bao was printed. In one report, European Times commented fondly on this historical connection: “The President of Roto Presse Numeris, Mr. Caron, and his entire family are old friends of the Chinese people, and are also witnesses to the friendship between China and France” (Liu Y. 2010). From 1945 until the 1970s, the Chinese media in France developed relatively quietly. This hiatus was due to a number of factors. One factor was the national economic environment. In France, the only Chinese newspaper that resumed publication after World War II was San Min Dao Bao (Three Peoples’ Herald),2 but its development encountered a number of difficulties due to financial issues. Meanwhile, a large number of students returned to China after the Japanese war, and the resulting loss of readers put an additional strain on the operation of Chinese newspapers. Another important factor was the complex international environment of the Cold War era, which put various restrictions on Chinese newspapers. For example, San Min Dao Bao,whichbelongstotheCNPand represents the political position of the authorities in Taiwan, published many anti-CCP and anti-PRC comics and articles and publicly called for a counter- attack against the mainland. But after the establishment of diplomatic relations between China and France in 1964, the French government did not want to “destroy the relationship with Beijing” (Cheng 2001), so it closed the newspaper on March 11, 1966. Despite these difficulties, some newspapers were published during this period. He Ping Hu Sheng (The Pacifist) was established in 1947, but only nine editions were published in total; and from 1953 to 1957, a weekly newspaper called Qiao Zhong (Overseas Chinese) was also published. But, generally speaking, there were relatively few Chinese-language newspapers during this period, and their distribution was not stable, leading to a very short existence for most of them.

Change and continuity: the Chinese media in recent decades The publication of Long Bao (Dragon News) on August 18, 1981 in Paris marks the end of this quiet era. In its first edition, the publication’s creator, Yuan Unique Past and Common Future 93 Guo’en, wrote that the purpose of the newspaper was to “promote ethics and morality, spread Chinese culture, study society, understand life, find the road to happiness, and solve the problems of living in a different society and cultural setting” (Yuan Guo’en, editorial, Long Bao, August 18, 1981). At first, Long Bao was handwritten, mimeographed and sent free of charge to members of Chinese community organizations. In January 1982, Long Bao developed a new look—a broadsheet that was divided into four sections and printed using photographic plates. In October of that year, the paper expanded its distribution, with a total of 1,200 distribution outlets in Paris and other big cities in France. Then, in December, the paper established a regular semi-monthly publication schedule and expanded its distribution network to include newsstands, book- stores, airports, subways, train stations, and shops in Chinese districts. In 1984 it expanded to fourteen large pages, and in April of 1985 began publishing a bilingual Chinese-French edition, expanding to eighteen pages in October of that year. On February 17, 1988, Long Bao became a weekly newspaper. The newspaper included useful information on local French tax laws, tax declaration and return procedures, residence permit application procedures, rental housing, and more, and successfully attracted a large Chinese readership, growing its circulation to more than 10,000. The development and success of Long Bao was closely related to the history of Chinese immigrants in the 1980s, who fled to France from Southeast Asia during the “anti-Chinese wave.” As mentioned, a large number of Chinese came to France as refugees from former French colonies in Southeast Asia: Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos. Arriving in a foreign country, they did not understand the local language and could not read local French newspapers or watch French television. But they were eager to understand local laws and get local information in order to create a new life. Against this background Long Bao was born, and it provided the Chinese community with useful information about local government laws and regulations and other aspects of everyday life. In April of 1985, Long Bao began to publish as a Chinese-French bilingual newspaper. It also added special sections on “legal knowledge” and “family.” In 1988, when the paper began publishing weekly, each edition included an attached tabloid called Long Bao Zhoukan (Dragon Weekly). This tabloid had twenty-four pages with articles on local laws, family, travel, and entertainment. With useful information about how to apply for a residence permit, how to find rental housing, how to open a shop, and how to pay taxes, this newspaper became very popular in the Chinese community. At the same time, Long Bao Zhoukan also published three editions in French each week, which aimed to introduce China’s history, culture, and historical sites to French readers. However, by the 1990s, the Chinese media situation in France had undergone great changes, and Long Bao lost many of its initial advantages. Ultimately, the newspaper’s readership declined significantly and it ceased publication in 1995. In addition to Long Bao, there were three other important Chinese newspapers published during this period. On December 16, 1982, Taiwan’s United 94 Nan Dai Daily News Group began publishing European Journal (Ou Zhou Ri Bao)in Paris. The newspaper’s headquarters was located in Paris and was responsible for collecting local breaking news and Chinese community news. The editors in Paris faxed all the news back to Taipei so the Taipei office could edit and typeset the content, and then the Taipei office faxed the layout back to Paris via satellite for printing and distribution. The United Daily News Group had extensive resources, technical expertise and newspaper operation experience, so European Journal exhibited relatively high professional standards. On January 1, 1983, the European Times was founded in Paris. With five editions per week, the paper collects news from a variety of sources. Within the local Chinese community, it relies on its own reporters; in neighboring countries, special correspondents provide Chinese community news. Initially, European news was translated mainly from news agencies such as Agence France-Presse, Associated Press, and Reuters; and reports relevant to mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the Far East were generally taken from Xinhua News Agency, China News Agency, and Hong Kong China News Agency. Now, as the paper has matured, it increasingly relies on original reports from its own journalists. From the beginning, the European Times has had a good relationship with the mainland Chinese government, and it continues to maintain a PRC perspective. Its publisher is the Guanghua Newspaper Group. As is the case with Chinese media in other countries, changes in the Chinese media and cultural landscape in France are marked by the evolving relationship between the PRC and Taiwan, and the development of the media reflects the waxing and waning of power on each side. The period of sharpest con- frontation between mainland China and Taiwan was reflected by the Chinese media in Europe. Thus, in the 1980s in France, the difference between European Times and European Journal was obvious: European Times reported news from mainland China in a more accurate and timely manner, while European Journal reported more news from Taiwan, and its reports on mainland China were generally taken from Western and Hong Kong news agencies, most of which had a negative attitude toward China. However, with the gradual improve- ment of relations between the mainland and Taiwan, the political barriers between groups of Chinese immigrants in Europe have started to erode. Liu Chang, who used to be a journalist for European Times, provides an example. In 1993, when European Times and European Journal both celebrated their tenth anniversary, European Times sent an invitation to European Journal to attend its celebration, and then European Journal also invited European Times to attend its celebration. From this example, we can see that, against the background of “one China,” different political attitudes can sometimes be put aside. We can also see this from the reporting of each newspaper. With increasing cross- strait civilian exchanges, European Times has gradually increased its coverage of Taiwan, and European Journal has also gradually begun to use reports by Xinhua News Agency, China News Agency, and Hong Kong China News Agency. Another popular newspaper in France’s Chinese community is Sing Tao Daily, which began publishing in London in 1975 and established its Paris Unique Past and Common Future 95 office in 1978. As one of the overseas branches of Hong Kong’s Sing Tao Daily, it was initially edited in Hong Kong and sent to London for printing and distribution. Later, it began gathering local news and attracting local advertising. It also began to publish in other European countries besides the United Kingdom, including France, the Netherlands, and Germany. Since its inception the newspaper has published six editions each week, and by the end of 1980 it was already employing a dozen journalists and editors. On August 31, 2009, European Journal announced that it would cease publication permanently. In its announcement it stated that, “due to rapid changes in the external environment, the development of the Internet news media, and the impact of the financial crisis, our newspaper’s content and advertising have been deeply affected” (front page story, European Journal, August 31, 2009). Thus, European Journal exited the history of Chinese-language media in France. Today, the most influential Chinese newspapers in France are European Times and the European version of Sing Tao Daily (Xing Dao Ri Bao). The Sing Tao Daily’s Paris office was established in 1978, and while the paper’sHongKong cultural background and influence is not as obvious on Chinese communities in France as it is in the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Belgium, or Germany, it is still read by France’s Cantonese-speaking communities. Also, because France received the majority of refugees from Indo-China in the late 1970s, this influx of Indo-Chinese ethnic groups brought great changes to Chinese communities in France, including new reader groups for Chinese-language media. European Times is the biggest Chinese daily newspaper in Europe today. The news content of the newspaper is very rich, including reports about mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Sino-French bilateral relations, local French news, and the Chinese diaspora in Europe. Besides France, it also has agencies in other European countries, including the United Kingdom, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, Spain, and Portugal. In fact, European Times now is more like a media group. It holds not only this daily newspaper, but also a weekly newspaper called Ou Zhou Shi Bao Zhoukan (Europe Weekly), a website (Oushinet.com), and even its own online television programmers, who regularly upload video reports to the website under the name “OushiTV.” With a history spanning more than thirty years, European Times has developed in ways that exhibit both the current direction and challenge of overseas Chinese-language media worldwide—namely, media convergence. With the rapid development of the Internet and digital technologies, multiple forms of media are developing in overseas Chinese communities, and Chinese-language media are facing increasingly competitive pressures throughout the media industry. To face these challenges, overseas Chinese-language media need to respond to the technological revolution and initiate new developments in accordance with this trend toward media convergence; and European Times is no exception. There are several other major Chinese newspapers in France, including Hua Bao (News of China), which has been published irregularly since 1996, and Ou Zhou Shang Bao (European Business), a free newspaper published since Chinese New Year in 2010. Since the founder of Ou Zhou Shang Bao is from Hong 96 Nan Dai Kong, the newspaper is printed in traditional Chinese characters. It has offices in France, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands, and it covers the news of these three countries. Another newspaper is Huaren Jie (China Street), which has been issued free of charge in France since 2010. The first two issues contained only four pages. From the third issue (July 20, 2010), it expanded to twelve pages and began publishing monthly, later growing to thirty-two pages. Because the founders of this newspaper are several businessmen from Wenzhou, they are able to maintain the operation even though the newspaper is totally free. As its circulation has increased, the advertising has also gradually increased, and in 2013 publisher Wu Changhong stated that the newspaper had already balanced revenues and expenditures. Huaren Jie mainly provides “practical” information on French local services. Its main readership in France is the Wenzhou community, so it is distributed mainly at restaurants, supermarkets, and shops in those areas of Paris that have high concentrations of Wenzhou migrants: Belleville, Arts-et-Métiers, and Aubervilliers. In its earliest form, Huaren Jie served mainly as a Wenzhou migrant community forum. However, with the development of the newspaper, it now also takes into account the Chinese who come from other regions, and its distribution area almost covers all those residential districts in Paris that have large Chinese communities. Thanks to its sizable Chinese population, France is one of the major destinations for China’s state television, which means that Chinese migrants in France enjoy much better access to Chinese-language television than those in European countries that have much smaller Chinese populations. This also makes Chinese television in France attractive to private media entrepreneurs. Television in the era of globalization is vital to the construction of cultural identities; it is a proliferating and globalized resource for the construction of cultural identity and a site of contestation over meaning. For Chinese immigrants, the meaning of Chinese-language television is very significant. Early on, Chinese immigrants did not have access to Chinese-language video media, although they did rent videotapes with Chinese cultural content. The first Chinese-language satellite television station in Europe was Chinese News and Entertainment (CNE), which was established in 1993 by Hong Kong businessman Xu Zhantang. CNE broadcast for two hours a day (extended to five hours in 1994) in twenty-one countries in Europe via the Astra satellite, and the programs were 60 percent in Cantonese, 30 percent in Mandarin, and 10 percent in English or French. The programs were sourced mainly from Hong Kong’s Asia Television (ATV) and China Central Television (CCTV), with a small amount of locally produced news and advertising programs. In August 1999, Hong Kong-based Phoenix Television acquired CNE as its European branch, and named it Phoenix CNE. The station launched in London and was included in the European mainstream satellite television network Sky Digital and other online television networks in the United Kingdom, France, Germany, and the Netherlands, ultimately covering forty-five countries across Europe. Phoenix CNE broadcasts twenty-four hours a day, with programs Unique Past and Common Future 97 sourced from mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and other Asian countries. Phoenix’s own programs mainly focus on European news and local Chinese community news. In addition, Chinese immigrants in France can watch Chinese television, including CCTV-1, CCTV International, CCTV French, CCTV Film Chan- nel, Beijing TV, Shanghai Oriental TV, and other channels from mainland China. This arrangement is made possible through a television package called the Great Wall Platform, which was established by Tang Media in partnership with major French operators such as Orange, Free, and SFR-NEUF. Owned by the biggest Chinese enterprise in France, Tang Frères, Tang Media is also a stakeholder in several of France’s biggest television and film production institutions. Tang Frères is the biggest Asian supermarket chain in France, and it is also the main supplier of Asian food and goods to Asian restaurants and smaller traders. Besides, it also invests in many domains, including biotechnology and the cultural industries. Since the Great Wall Platform officially launched in France in August 2006, Chinese immigrants in France and other European countries have been able to watch an extensive range of television programs in their mother language. In fact, the expansion of Chinese television overseas is strongly linked with the Chinese government’s recent “going global” policy. As part of this soft power initiative, Chinese local media are expected and encouraged to “go global,” which has created opportunities for both mainland Chinese media and overseas Chinese media. The co-operation of Zhejiang Television (ZJTV) with a local Chinese media company in France is a good example of this policy initiative. Because of the large number of Wenzhou migrants in France, ZJTV’s International Channel has a large audience within the Chinese community. In the latest audience ratings, ZJTV International was positioned in second place among the twenty-seven channels included in the Great Wall Platform, behind only CCTV International (C-Media, pers. comm). To take advantage of this demand, a television production agency called C-Media was created in Paris. In 2011, C-Media and ZJTV International co-produced a series of documentary programs entitled “The World of Chinese in Europe,” which had a very big influence on the Chinese community. Each program was titled with the name of a famous Chinese person in France or Europe, and reported on their achievements in different fields. These programs were broadcasted via Zhejiang International Channel, which targets overseas Chinese. The Internet has brought unprecedented new challenges and opportunities for overseas Chinese media. The most famous Chinese website in France is Reve- France.com. Its Chinese name is Zhan Dou Zai Faguo, which translates as “Struggles in France.” Founded in 2002, the website already has forty million members. Its influence extends beyond France to Chinese all over the world who are seeking information on studying or living in France, or who are exploring cooperative business opportunities within the French market. In 2009, ReveFrance.com was renamed New Europe (XinEurope.com), which showed its ambition to expand its influence throughout Europe and upgrade 98 Nan Dai its function from an online community to a comprehensive website. But its core value is still the forum. Another Chinese website widely used by Chinese immigrants in France is Huarenjie.fr, which was founded by second-generation Chinese immigrants in 2006. This site provides local consumer information and a space for communication among Chinese immigrants, and its user base is increasing rapidly. It has already expanded into Italy, Spain, and the United Kingdom, and the website intends to co-operate with Chinese communities in other European countries as well. More recently, the website has changed its name to Faguo Huaren Wang (Faguo.Huarenjie.com; Faguo means “France” in Chinese), but it is also known in Chinese as Ou zhou Huaren wang (European Chinese website).

Case study questionnaire and analysis of Chinese-language media in France In addition to historical research, in 2010 I also conducted a survey among Chinese migrants in France in order to better understand how the consumption of media is aﬀected by demographics and patterns of usage, as well as to explore the impact that Chinese-language media outlets have on identity formation and the everyday lives of Chinese migrants.3 In terms of demographic characteristics, the survey shows that among the 240 valid samples, the age distribution was fairly evenly balanced (see Figure 5.1). However, there was a considerable gender imbalance among participants, with some 63 percent male and 37 percent female. This accurately reﬂects the fact that the overseas Chinese community in France has a higher proportion of males. Historical data show that in France in 1946, women made up only

Over 60 years Under 25 years 16% 22%

50-60 years 12%

25-30 years 40-50 years 20% 16%

30-40 years 14%

Figure 5.1 Age distribution of Chinese migrant survey participants Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240). Unique Past and Common Future 99

Dther 5% South-East Asian countries 15%

Other parts of mainland China 35% Zhejiang province, mainland China 31%

Guangzhou & Chaoshan, mainland China 14%

Figure 5.2 Birthplace distribution of Chinese migrant survey participants Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240).

19 percent of the Chinese immigrant community. In 1954, this proportion remained the same, and by 1968 women accounted for 32.7 percent. Only since 1975, when a large number of Chinese women refugees (from Southeast Asia) arrived in France, has the imbalance started to shift (Pan 1998). Figure 5.2 gives a breakdown of the main places of birth of survey participants. It is interesting to note that 80 percent of respondents were from mainland China, with nearly one-third of all those surveyed coming from Zhejiang province alone. Survey participants’ occupational groupings were well distributed across a small number of areas, with almost one-quarter of them students, a further quarter unemployed, retired, or stay-at-home, and more than one-third employed by either local companies or Chinese-funded institutions. More than 10 percent of respondents were private business owners (see Figure 5.3). After asking participants, “What is your major media source for news and information?”, we can see from the survey results that television, newspapers, and the Internet represented the “three pillars” of media consumption for these individuals (see Figure 5.4). As shown in Figure 5.5, when asked, “What kinds of information are you most interested in getting from the Chinese media?” survey respondents showed a high level of interest in local news, with 25 percent of them indicating this as their preferred media content, and a further 12 percent wanting news and information about local laws and regulations. Another substantial proportion of respondents (nearly 25 percent) were interested in news from mainland China. This relates both to the increase in immigration from China in recent years and to the broader development of China as a world power. By comparison, only 16 percent of participants placed a priority on news and 100 Nan Dai Unemployed Other 4% > 3%

business owners 13% Students 23% Staff of local companies 25%

Housewives 6% Retired 15% .Staff of China- funded institutions 11%

Figure 5.3 Occupations of Chinese migrant survey participants Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240).

Magazines Radio 4% _3%

nternet 28% Television I 33%

Newspapers 32%

Figure 5.4 Chinese migrant survey participants’ main sources of news and information Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240). Unique Past and Common Future 101

5% %% Mainland China news 22% 10% Local news Chinese community news 6% Local laws and regulations Classified advertisements u, Health information 25% Travel information

16% Entertainment

Figure 5.5 Chinese migrant survey participants’ preferred media content Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240). information about the local Chinese community. From these ﬁgures we can see that, while practical information is still very important among the current population of Chinese immigrants in France, the demand for news is far greater, since most Chinese immigrants have moved from “transitional” to “sedentary” status.

Feedback for the Chinese newspaper European Times In response to the question, “Have you ever read the Chinese newspaper European Times in France?” a clear majority (about 74 percent) of respondents answered “Yes.” Among those who gave this answer, an impressive 44 percent had been reading the paper for more than five years; only 28 percent were relatively new (0–2 years) readers (see Figure 5.6). A clear majority (74 percent) of survey participants pay to read the European Times, either by subscription or at a newspaper sales point, with the remainder reading it free of charge in one setting or another (see Figure 5.7). Respondents also answered the question, “Which aspects of European Times need to be improved?” Their answers were spread across a wide range of areas in which participants felt that the paper was falling short (see Figure 5.8). When asked, “What are your suggestions for the European Times?” respondents gave diverse answers, which, on the whole, reflected the range of expectations that readers might have of a Chinese migrant community media outlet. “Ithink there are too many reports on Chinese organizations. I would like to read more news about our ordinary life,” one respondent replied. Another was more concerned about the issue of transliteration: “When a report mentions the names of people or places, it’s necessary to add the original French spelling. Otherwise I can’t understand or find it with just the translation in Chinese.” Another respondent replied: “It’s good to have some reports translated from the 102 Nan Dai No answer 2%

0-2 years Over 10 years 1 28% 26%

5-10 years 18% 2-5 years 26%

Figure 5.6 Length of time Chinese migrant survey participants had been reading European Times newspaper Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240).

Subscribes to newspaper

26% 29% Buys newspaper at sales point

45% Reads newspaper free (at Chinese restaurants, Chinese travel agencies, friends' homes, etc.)

Figure 5.7 Chinese migrant survey participants’ usual way of accessing European Times newspaper Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240).

French media, but the translations need to be improved.” Still others expressed a desire to be part of community activities, and the belief that the Chinese media have a role in informing readers about these activities: “There are reports of some community activities, but I would like to see the information provided before the activities so I can participate personally, not just read the reports at home.” For a long time, Chinese immigrants worldwide have been perceived by others as a silent ethnic group—primarily focused on work, politically apathetic, and Unique Past and Common Future 103

Selection of news

10% Timeliness 4% Depth of reporting 8% Amount of information 20% Quality of articles 7% Quality of photos 12% Layout 17% Editing and proofreading Dther suggestions

Figure 5.8 Chinese migrant survey participants’ feedback for improving European Times newspaper Source: Survey of Chinese migrants’ media consumption practices, conducted across several French cities in 2010 (n = 240). rarely involved in their host country’s social affairs. They usually have their own relatively closed Chinese community, and are thought to have a “transient passenger” mentality and a tendency to “return to their roots.” Due to language difficulties, cultural differences, and a lack of economic and social capital, Chinese migrants do not normally take the initiative to integrate into the mainstream community, and their level of political participation is low. This is a characteristic that Chinese migrants share with their counterparts from many other nations in various other parts of the world. These characteristics often lead to a weak political and social position for the Chinese diaspora, sometimes making it hard for them to protect their legitimate rights and interests as an ethnic community. Although, with the development of globalization, national institutional discrimination is difficult to justify, mainstream Western society’s concern for the welfare of the Chinese community is still considered inadequate by many members of Chinese communities across the globe. Therefore, the Chinese-language media are expected to play their role as the “voice” and “opinion leader” of the community, encouraging and organizing Chinese migrants to participate in political life, to safeguard their rights, and to integrate into the local society. As I demonstrate below, while they have succeeded in some respects, they have also failed in others. For Chinese immigrants, the Chinese media are an important source of information and also a platform for expressing their own views to the outside world. The role that the Chinese media played in an incident that occurred in the Belleville district of Paris presents itself as a good illustration. Belleville is home to many Chinese immigrants. But the area also has immigrants from other ethnic groups, as well as many vagrants. Security and personal safety have been a major problem here for a long time. On June 2, 2010, a Chinese immigrant was robbed and wounded. Later, several Chinese published information about the robbery on Huarenjie.com, which set off a heated discussion. People began to discuss more effective solutions to the crime problem, and someone 104 Nan Dai suggested holding a “counter violence, demand safety” demonstration. The organization of the demonstration was closely related to Huarenjie.com. Before the demonstration, some website users began organizing meetings with local government officials to discuss the prevention of crimes against the Chinese community. Subsequently, Huarenjie.com served as a communication platform allowing Chinese immigrants to organize and participate in the demonstration; details such as when and where participants should gather, various announcements, and the division of work were all communicated through the platform. Meanwhile, other Chinese media such as European Times, Phoenix, and ZJTV International also published and reported information in a variety of ways. Due to the momentum from this publicity, on June 20, 2010, nearly 30,000 Chinese participated in a demonstration to denounce the attacks and draw attention to the sense of insecurity in their communities. This was the largest demonstration ever organized by the Chinese community in France. The French newspaper Le Parisien (The Parisian) devoted an entire layout to the demonstration in its June 21 edition, with an article titled “Thousands of Chinese demonstrate to defend their security,” and called this Chinese community demonstration “a first in France.” It noted that:

The Chinese community in France has always given the impression that it is a relatively silent community. This demonstration on June 20 is the ﬁrst time that Chinese have broken their silence and taken to the streets to ﬁght for their own rights. They called on the authorities to pay attention to the security problems of the districts in which they live. (Le Parisien 2010)

The European Times observed: “This demonstration could be a milestone in the history of how overseas Chinese fight for their rights” (Ou Zhou Shi Bao 2010). China’s domestic media also reported on the demonstration, with Nanfang Zhoumo (Southern Weekly) commenting: “This is a journey of awa- kening … . Overseas Chinese might abandon their past blind nationalism and gradually transform into a new immigrant group that is rational, united, and obeys the rules of other countries” (Ye W. 2010). Apart from speaking out on behalf of Chinese migrants and defending their right to safety and security, the Chinese media are also advocating for their political rights. With the rise of a new generation of Chinese in Europe, the Chinese community has increased its desire for political participation. There are more and more politicians who are Chinese (or who have Chinese ancestry) emerging in the Chinese community in France. For example, in 2008, there were a total of eighteen Chinese nominations for the French municipal elections in the greater Paris region. Chen Wen Xiong, a Chinese immigrant, decided to run for Vice Mayor of Paris’s thirteenth arrondissement. He announced this decision at the twenty-fifth anniversary celebration for the European Times, and received the unanimous support of the Chinese media and Chinese Unique Past and Common Future 105 community. He was subsequently elected district councilor and vice mayor of this arrondissement—an area famous for its significance to the Chinese community. In a 2008 article, the European Times commented that Chen Wen Xiong “aroused the enthusiasm of Chinese immigrants to participate in politics affairs,” and predicted that the Chinese community “would work together to support this candidate.” Hong Kong-based magazine Asia Week published an interview with Chen Wen Xiong in 2008, saying, “Chen Wen Xiong’s candidacy in the election spurred Chinese immigrants, who are politically apathetic, to vote, thus improving their social status.” It also predicted that the name of Chen Wen Xiong “will be remembered in the history of Paris. He has written a new page in the history of Chinese immigrants in France” (Xinhuanet 2008). The Chinese immigrant community has always had a very strong cultural identity, but this does not mean that they do not recognize the importance of integration. In this process, the Chinese media play their own unique role. On the one hand, Chinese media introduce readers to local policies and regulations. This information is particularly important for new immigrants. The policies of greatest concern to Chinese immigrants in France are how to apply for a residence permit, how to find rental housing, how to open a small business, and how to pay taxes. In very much the same way that diasporic Chinese media all over the world function, the Chinese media in France regularly inform Chinese readers about policies that concern all French citizens, as well as policies that particularly concern migrants. On the other hand, there is a strong transnational dimension to the content, with regular reporting on the Chinese community and stories of old immigrants, all of which serve as examples for new immigrants. For example, on the website Oushinet. com there is a forum called “Chinese Community,” which shares information about Chinese immigrant communities worldwide. Meanwhile, the website also features several special columns that focus on immigrants’ stories. There is a famous column called “Lu Wa Listens,” written by a female writer named Lu Wa, who originally immigrated from Wenzhou. Her column recounts her personal history and experience of immigration within the Wenzhou community. Another female writer from Hong Kong, Zhang Mingxing, also shares her thoughts on living overseas. Finally, in the same way that the rise of mainland China and China’s global prominence have greatly boosted the confidence and pride of Chinese communities worldwide, Chinese migrants in France have also forged a closer affinity with China. The media from the PRC provide these migrants a spiritual home, and help them preserve their cultural identity. By introducing the positive aspects of Chinese immigrants’ culture, Chinese media promote communication with other ethnic groups. The European Times even has its own cultural center, which offers Chinese-language lessons for the children of Chinese immigrants, and for French people who are interested in Chinese culture. It also organizes activities to disseminate Chinese culture, such as inviting scholars from China to give lectures in Paris. 106 Nan Dai Chinese-language media in France: unique past and common future We can see from this discussion that in some respects the Chinese-language media in France have a unique past compared with Chinese-language media in other countries. Their earliest development had a unique political origin: the formation of the earliest migrant community was marked by a distinctive Southeast Asian demographic—reflecting France’s colonial history in that region—and this also helps to account for the diversity of the Chinese community’s cultural make-up today. Furthermore, France is a key European node in terms of diasporic Chinese-language media, and, as a hub of Chinese community media for neighboring European countries, it reaches out to various parts of Europe. Ou Zhou Shi Bao Zhoukan was launched in France in 2005, but within one year it had set up local editions in Germany, Austria, Greece, Hungary, and Portugal, in partnership with local Chinese newspapers. Under the masthead of Ou Zhou Shi Bao Zhoukan, these Chinese newspapers aim to share resources and content throughout Europe. Recently, the European Times also began an expansion: the British edition of the newspaper started in London in December 2011, with a Central and Eastern Europe edition being launched in Vienna in August 2012, and a German edition in September 2013. This “hub” effect is also evident in other media sectors. For instance, the documentary production company C-Media has its headquarters in France. The website Huarenjie.com, founded at Paris on 2006, has also since expanded its business to Italy, Spain, and the United Kingdom. At the same time, we can also see that the Chinese community in France has some common characteristics with its counterparts in various diasporic Chinese localities. For instance, there is a mixture of Chinese-language newspapers that are mostly run as businesses and are free, and those professionally run newspapers (such as European Times and Sing Tao Daily) that are available for purchase and subscription. Furthermore, France’s ethnic Chinese media are part of the global Chinese media network originally from Hong Kong and Taiwan. And in recent years, France’s Chinese media have responded actively to China’s “going global” initiatives and formed partnerships with mainland Chinese media. Compared to traditional Chinese immigrants, newer generations of Chinese arrivals in France are generally more skilled, with higher levels of education, language ability, professional experience, and economic means than earlier generations. They also show increasing levels of political awareness, and a capacity and desire for greater political participation. At the same time, the Chinese-language media in France are dynamic and rapidly changing. Thus, an important focus for future diasporic media research in France is the evolving relationship between Chinese-language media and these newer immigrants— for example, whether and how the ethnic media influence migrants’ plans to stay or to return, and how the relationship between media and audiences changes if they decide to stay for the long term. The materials examined in this chapter lay the groundwork for such further investigation. Unique Past and Common Future 107 Notes 1 The letters and editorial quoted here were all sourced from Cheng (2001). 2 San Min Dao Bao is not to be confused with San Min Zhou Bao, which was founded earlier than San Min Dao Bao and also belongs to the CNP. 3 I used several methods to conduct my survey: First, I conducted on-street interviews, selecting four areas in Paris to distribute my questionnaire: Arts-et- Métiers, Belleville, the thirteenth arrondissement, and Aubervilliers. All these areas have large numbers of Chinese residents. Second, I distributed questionnaires at the agency of the European Times newspaper, which is visited frequently by local Chinese people. Finally, I conducted telephone interviews with a number of European Times readers. All of these readers were located in other cities in France. In total, I received 240 valid questionnaires, and these form the basis for the empirical section of this chapter.

References Cheng, Manli. 2001. Hai wai Huawen chuan mei yan jiu [Research on overseas Chinese media]. Beijing: Xinhua Press. China News Service. 2012. “Zhongguo yi cheng Faguo di er da liu xue sheng yuan guo” [“China has become the second-largest source of international students in France”]. May 24. Online at: www.chinanews.com/lxsh/2012/05-24/3914144.shtml. Gao, Weinong and Kou Haiyang. 2011. ‘Faguo yin zhi Hua yi nan min de li shi yu xian zhuang’ [‘History and current situation of Indo-Chinese refugees in France’]. Ba gui qiao kan [Overseas Chinese journal of Bagui], 93(1): 10–14. Guangdong Overseas Chinese Affairs Office. 2004. “Faguo Huaren hua qiao she hui chu tan” [“Research on the Chinese community of France”]. Online at: http://qwgzyj.gqb.gov.cn/hwzh/119/518.shtml. Le Parisien. 2010. “Des milliers de Chinois défilent contre l’insécurité” [“Thousands of Chinese demonstrate to defend their security”]. June 21. Online at: www.leparisien. fr/paris-75/des-milliers-de-chinois-defilent-contre-l-insecurite-21-06-2010-972079.php. Li, Minghuan. 2002. “Dang dai Ou zhou Huaren ren kou gou cheng pou xi” [“The contemporary Chinese population of Europe”]. Paper presented at the Overseas Chinese Studies International Conference, Beijing, November 15–16. Li, Minghuan. 2005. Fujian qiaoxiang diao cha [Investigation of overseas Fujianese home town]. Xiamen: Xiamen University Press. Liu, Yong. 2010. “Kalong xian sheng huo fa lan xi rong yu jun tuan qi shi xun zhang” [“Mr Caron is awarded the medal of the Knights of the Legion of Honor”]. European Times, June 1. Liu, Zepeng. 2013. Shijie qiao qing bao gao 2012–2013 [Overseas Chinese report 2012–2013]. Guangzhou: Jinan University Press. Ou Zhou Shi Bao (European Times). 2010. “Huaren da you xing, tuan jie wei quan de li cheng bei” [“Chinese demonstration, milestone of maintenance right”]. June 22. Online at: www.oushinet.com/voice/commented/20100622/7609.html. Pan, Ling. 1998. Hai wai Huaren bai ke quan shu [Encyclopedia of the Chinese overseas]. Hong Kong: Joint Publishing HK. Shah, Prakash. 2005. ‘Globalisation and the Challenge of Asian Legal Transplants in Europe.’ Singapore Journal of Legal Studies, December: 348–361. Online at: www.law.nus.edu.sg/sjls/articles/SJLS-2005-348.pdf. 108 Nan Dai Sun, Xingsheng. 1999. ‘Ou zhou Huawen bao kan shi ji tan’ [‘Introduction of Chinese publications of twentieth century in Europe’]. Guojixinwenjie[Journal of International Communication], 4: 73–79. Xiao, Liang. 2003. “Ou zhou Huawen chuan mei fa zhan de li shi gui ji” [“History of Chinese-language media in Europe”]. Sina, May 26. Online at: http://news.sina.com. cn/o/2003-05-26/1341158120s.shtml. Xinhuanet. 2008. “Gang bao: Ji ji can zheng de Ba li di yi wei Huaren fu qu zhang, Chen Wen Xiong” [“Hongkong newspaper reports: The first Chinese vice mayor of Paris to actively participate in politics, Chen Wen Xiong”]. Sina, June 17. Online at: http://news.xinhuanet.com/overseas/2008-06/17/content_8384481.htm. Ye, Weimin. 2010. “Tuan jie shi yan qian tu nan bu, Faguo Huaren da you xing zhi hou” [“Test of unity have an unknown future, the French Chinese after the demonstration”]. August 5. Online at: www.infzm.com/content/48549. Ye, Xingqiu. 2009. Faguo Huaren san bai nian [The Chinese in France over a period of three centuries]. Paris: Pacifica. 6 Politics of Homeland Hegemonic discourses of the intervening homeland in Chinese diasporic newspapers in the Netherlands1

Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong

I was conducting research on minority newspapers in the Netherlands in 2012 when I came across a joint publication of three Chinese-language newspapers in the country. Titled Lian He Te Kan (Special joint issue), it was published on the occasion of a visit to the Netherlands by Jai Qinglin, the chairman and party secretary of the National Committee of the People’s Political Con- sultative Conference of the People’s Republic of China.2 It was unusual not only because the three newspapers were keen competitors in the small Chinese community in the country, but also because it contained numerous official reports and discourses of the Chinese government. In this study I present the discourses in the newspapers and argue that they are hegemonic in nature. Homeland is no longer the symbolic resource “imagined” by diasporic community for cultural and social negotiation in a foreign land. Following influxes of cross-border technologies and capital in the age of globalization, the “homeland,” although far away, is able to intervene in diasporic representations through official meanings and discourses prompted by the peculiar national imagination; I call them the “politics of homeland.” Diasporic media play an important role in the formation of community identity; they keep migrants in touch with their original culture while negotiating daily with the mainstream society in the adopted country. In the process, the media producers and community members are expected to be active and autonomous agents. Hence, the official narratives raise concerns about whom they represent and, more importantly, how they may constrain the self- representation and cultural identification of the diasporic community. There- fore, another focus of this study is on the self-representation of the diasporic community and how its members are able to present alternative interpretations that are different from—or even challenging to—dominant official narratives. In the next section I will introduce the Chinese community and their newspapers in the Netherlands, following this with a description of my research methods. In the analysis section, I will examine the construction of the hegemonic nature of the China discourses along with the historical and contextual factors associated with them. This will be followed by a discussion of the ideological contents of official China discourses and the alternative narratives that the diasporic community produces. In the final section, I will 110 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong examine the implications of these two sets of expressions on transnational Chinese nationalism, diasporic identity politics, and the study of diasporic media in the contemporary world of intensified globalization.

The Chinese community and newspapers in the Netherlands The first large group of Chinese to arrive in the Netherlands was at the beginning of the twentieth century: students, stokers, and sailors from Indo- nesia and South China (Pieke and Benton 1998; Li 1998; FORUM 2011). Today, there are around 100,000 Chinese residing officially in the Netherlands (FORUM 2011), although unofficial sources had already put the number at around 160,000 in 2008 (Li 2011). Since the majority of the first-generation and some of the second-generation migrants could not speak or read Dutch, they have had to rely on Chinese media for information on their homelands and the host society. Excluding satellite and online media, the mainstream electronic media offer only a limited number of Chinese programs.3 Print media are more popular in the community. Several Chinese newspapers produced outside the country are also available, e.g. European Commercial News, Epoch Times, Kan Zhongguo (Observe China),4 Sing Tao Daily Europe, and People’s Daily Overseas Edition Europe. Headquartered in major European cities such as London and Paris, these papers target Chinese communities across Europe. Although they are published and circulated in large quantities throughout Europe, they are not included in this study since they are not local and may not contain narratives specifically concerning the diasporic identity of the Dutch Chinese. In the following, I will give a brief account of the Chinese publications produced in the Netherlands. Chinese publications in the Netherlands had a late start in comparison to other European countries. The earliest ones included Dong Feng (East Wind), published by Indonesian Chinese students in Dutch in the 1920s and 1930s, and Het Weerstand Bulletin (Kang Zhan Yao Xun—Bulletin for the War of Resistance), published by a patriotic organization during the Sino-Japanese war of 1938/39 to call for donations of money and winter clothes to support the war in China (Li 2011). It was not until 1975 that a Chinese monthly He Hua Yue Kan (Dutch-Chinese Monthly)5 and a bimonthly newsletter Shuang Yue Kan (Bimonthly Periodical)6 were published in Amsterdam and Rotterdam respectively. The former was started by a Hong Kong businessman while the latter was launched by the former Chinese Evangelical Mission in Europe. The religious newsletter later gave way to the production of the bilingual De Chinese Half-Maandelijke Info Krant (The Chinese Half-Monthly Info Newspaper), which was published between 1984 and 1996 by an affiliated activist community association, Stichting Chinese Cultuur Recreatie en Maatschappelijk Werk (Foundation for Chinese Culture, Recreation, and Social Work) (Li 1999). Its associated social welfare organization in Rotterdam, Stichting Welzijnbehartiging Chinezen (Wah fook wui—Foundation for Chinese Welfare Representation), started two tri-weeklies, Info-Blad Wah Fook (Wah Fook Info-Paper)in1995andDe Chinese Politics of Homeland 111 Info Krant (The Chinese Info Newspaper) in 1996, for community service purposes. The pro-Beijing Overzeese Chinezen (Hua Qiao Tong Xun—Overseas Chinese Bulletin) was published between 1977 and 2008 with sponsorship from both a China agent and the Dutch government.7 The Hong Kong based Sing Tao Daily introduced a paid newspaper in the 1980s. In the 1990s, several popular “advertising papers” started being founded by Hong Kong migrants to promote their businesses and attract advertisements. Three of them—Asian News (Hua Qiao Xin Tian Di), United Times (Lian He Shi Bao), and China Times (Zhong He Shang Bao)—have continued to be the most popular newspapers in the Netherlands even today. They are all distributed free of charge in Chinese supermarkets, massage and hairdressing parlors, restaurants, and grocery stores in Chinese neighborhoods. A small proportion is distributed in nearby countries including Germany, Luxembourg, and Bel- gium. Most people are willing to grab a copy of each for leisure reading at home without discrimination. I will now briefly introduce the three newspapers. Founded in 1992 in Rotterdam, Asian News has the longest history of the three. It is owned by a migrant family from Hong Kong and is now run by a member of the second generation of Chinese—those who grew up in the Netherlands and cannot write or read the language of their ancestors. The newspaper is well known as an advertising newspaper with a circulation of 26,000 copies per issue. It is a triweekly publication divided into three sections to avoid the clustering of advertisements. Each section has its own editorial format: a broadsheet-format and a tabloid-format edition, both in Chinese, and Asian NL in Dutch, the last serving as a platform for young readers to understand the Chinese community and its culture. As indicated on its website, it seeks to report fairly local, Chinese, and international news, together with analyses of legal issues and pieces on entertainment, lifestyle, travel, sport, and finance that are likely to be of interest to the local community. The newspaper carries a few full pages taken from Shanghai’s Xinmin Evening Post, and is sponsored by and hyperlinked in the official website of the China News Service (CNS). Asian News’s editorial team of around ten, including the editor-in-chief, is mostly made up of migrants from China. Initially, the newspaper was printed in Traditional Chinese, which is the official practice in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and most Southeast Asian countries. In 2012, it switched over to Simplified Chinese, which is the norm in China, to ease the work routine, according to the editor-in-chief (pers. comm). The second newspaper, United Times, claims to be the successor of a paper known as the Chinese Times (Tang Ren Jie, which literally means “Chinatown”), which was founded in 1992 by a Hong Kong migrant in Rotterdam. Its present owner, a migrant from Qingtian, China, acquired it and changed the title to United Times in 2010. The newspaper is in alliance with the newspapers of the same title in other European countries such as Italy and Spain. Alliance members share resources and extend mutual support, though the owner of the Dutch edition claims that there is no official relationship between them (pers. comm.). 112 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong United Times publishes once every three weeks and has a circulation of 35,000. Besides reports on local community activities, it too includes diverse content drawn from Chinese and international news sources. Since there are only three full-time workers in the office, including a marketing officer, they have to rely heavily on other news sources and freelancers. One local radio station provides local Dutch news, while CNS supplies China, Hong Kong, and international news, as well as lifestyle and entertainment coverage. The editorial team focuses mainly on reporting activities in local Chinese communities. The third paper, China Times, is a biweekly with a circulation of 38,000. It was founded in 2003 by a second-generation Vietnamese Chinese born in the Netherlands who does not speak or read Chinese. His original objective was to promote his telecommunications business by running a newspaper at minimal cost by employing part-time students. However, it became increasingly sophisticated under a new editor, a university lecturer from China who came to the country in 1990. Apart from the editor, a marketing manager, and an administrative employee, the editorial team consists of six to eight people, including freelancers. Its office is located inside a telecommunications retail shop in the Hague owned by the paper’s founder. As it positions itself as a local community newspaper, it focuses its content on the local community and does not carry categories like international news, sports, or entertainment. The editor-in-chief considers them of little value to a biweekly community newspaper. China News is the first overseas Chinese newspaper to be provided to China Southern Airlines passengers for in-flight reading. It is trying to attract more upscale advertisers from Chinese corporate clients outside the local community. After all, advertising revenue is the main lifeline of these free newspapers running on limited resources. It is common for ethnic and community newspapers to operate with scant resources. They are usually small or informal operations. Chinese newspapers in the Netherlands are no exception. Their editorial rooms are run on small head- counts comprising freelancers and untrained employees. Usually an employee has to do more than one job—for example, reporting on community activities, taking photos, designing layouts for advertisements, or writing columns under different aliases for different sections in one or more than one newspaper. Free contributions are welcome, and it is common practice to forge alliances with overseas content providers. Most important of all, they maintain good relations with the Chinese embassy and are ready to publish newsfeeds and content provided by China’sofficial news agency, Xinhua, and China’s other main state-owned news agency, CNS. One main focus of the present study is to examine the discourses constructed by these official China news sources, which proliferate in and dominate Chinese diasporic newspapers.

Research methods My research was conducted in the Netherlands in 2012. Both in-depth interviews and textual analyses were used. For the in-depth interviews, I was able to meet all editors-in-chief of the three newspapers, and extend the scope of Politics of Homeland 113 my study by including founders and editors of past newspapers. I was also able to discuss with other journalists, writers, ex-workers, and community leaders associated with the industry. Most of them were active as organizers or members of charity- or clan-based associations within the migrant community, or as volunteers engaged in social clubs and community activities. Most importantly, they had access to media representation through their active participation in the community and the media industry. The founders and editors were asked about the background and general operation of their newspapers, their daily journalistic practices, their criteria for selecting topics to report, the prevalent forms of cooperation with official China news sources, and how they treat official news content before going into publication. All interviewees were asked questions concerning their cultural identity, personal life history, media consumption habits, and how they read official China news. Eleven of them were selected for reporting in this chapter (see Appendix for a list of interviewees). The content of the three newspapers published between July 2011 and June 2012 was subjected to textual analysis. Two of the papers had websites from which soft information could be readily drawn. For the one without an online edition, I relied on copies I had collected or past issues provided by the editors. In total, I managed to analyze around fifty issues of the three newspapers for the discourse in their content. Discourse analyses are not concerned merely with underlying power relationships but also with how those power relationships influence and transform discursive practices (Fairclough 2010). For this perspective, I had to pay special attention to two sets of newspaper content, their discursive practices, and the power relationships between them. The first set consisted of news items and information provided by official China news sources. This included news that had been sourced from CNS, Xinhua, and the Chinese embassy, as well as items with identical photos and wording that were published in different newspapers at around the same time and which were assumed to be press releases or newsfeeds provided by official sources. The second set comprised items produced by newspapers’ editorial staff or local contributors. This included reports on local news and community activities, columns, features, and editorials that were mainly in the inner pages. An overview of my analysis is provided in the following three sections. First, I will discuss historical and contextual factors in the construction of hegemonic official discourses within the diasporic community. Second, I will discuss the ideologies underpinning dominant discourses by focusing on the relationship between the diasporic community and the China that these discourses depict. Finally, I will examine some alternative narratives as represented in the diasporic community, and see how that community recalls and understands its collective memory and identity.

Construction of hegemonic discourses in diasporic newspapers In this paper, “politics of homeland” refers to the intervention of the faraway homeland in the media representations of diasporic Chinese communities. In 114 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong my view, the presumed ethnic homeland is taking on a hegemonic role in overriding the diaspora in their self-representation and identification. This is being done by dominating diasporic newspapers through official newsfeeds and discourses. The process can be discussed from two perspectives. One is the political economy perspective, which points at the dependency of diasporic newspapers on official Chinese news sources—a dependency that eventually gives these sources strong editorial influence over these newspapers. The second concerns the discursive power of official Chinese news sources, which are clearly capable of engaging in higher-order discourses driven by strong rhetorical forces and which delimit what can be said or not said in diasporic newspapers.

Dependency on official news sources, and the resulting editorial influence The prioritization of Chinese news and information in recent years has led diasporic newspapers with limited resources to depend greatly on free official newsfeeds. The rise of China as one of the global powers in recent years has led to a more intense identification with mainland China by some overseas Chi- nese, so the demand for news and information from China has been growing. Even some members of the first generation of migrants who had escaped China’s political or economic persecution some decades ago are now expressing pride in China and eager to develop stronger ties with their country of origin (Ex-editor E; see Appendix for details). Newspapers are now giving priority to Chinese news and information, thinking that many overseas people are looking for business and investment opportunities in the new economic powerhouse (Managing Director F). The changing composition of the diasporic community in the Netherlands has also played a role in the prioritization of Chinese news in local newspapers. The community was used to being dominated by a Cantonese-speaking sub-ethnic community from Hong Kong and Guangzhou. However, the balance began to shift with the growing number of Putonghua- speaking students and migrants from China following the introduction of the family reunion policy in the Netherlands during the 1980s and 1990s (Pieke 1992; Li 2002a, 2002b). While the new generations of Cantonese-speakers who were born and educated in the Netherlands began to merge into the larger Dutch society, new arrivals from China took over many local restaurants—and newspaper businesses. These newspapers have to appeal to the growing number of migrants from China who pine for ever more information about their ethnic homeland (Managing Director D). Diasporic newspapers, therefore, have welcomed the Chinese newsfeeds. Most important of all, these official news sources are free of charge. Official mainland Chinese newsfeeds are important for diasporic newspapers with weak networks and limited financial resources. These feeds are readily available, and do not involve complicated copyright concerns, unlike those from Taiwan or Hong Kong news agencies (Editor-in-Chief I). CNS provides up to twelve full pages of news and other content for each issue, and these pages can be inserted directly into the newspapers for printing with no need for typesetting Politics of Homeland 115 or editing. One critic remarked: “It would cost them [the editors] a lot of energy if they didn’t have the support of mainland Chinese media. … They are very insufficient as newspapers … just copy and paste to muddle through” (Writer H). Apart from the free content, many editors are keen on developing guanxi (interpersonal relationships with reciprocal obligations) with the embassy so as to cultivate a higher social status by staying close to certain power centers (Ex- editor K). Although some may dismiss these practices as “bootlicking” (Writer H), the editors are usually pleased to oblige if the Chinese embassy wants to disseminate certain information. For instance, the joint publication of the three business competitors mentioned at the beginning of this chapter was suggested and coordinated by the embassy (Editor G). In another special issue on the visit of another high-level China official to the Netherlands, photos and information were provided by Xinhua News Agency. When the editor could not fit in all the photos, Xinhua was consulted for selection. Typeset was sent to the embassy for comment and final approval, and the editor was told to make all photos of the Chinese and local leaders exactly the same size so as to avoid comparison (Editor G). The Chinese consul general once instructed the editors that they could criticize the Chinese government “appropriately,” and corrected the use of the term “Dutch-Sino” to “Sino-Dutch” in the editorials (Managing Director F). Such intervention of a distant authority in local news production has had significant impact on the construction of official discourses that serve the politics of the faraway homeland by dominating diasporic representation.

Rhetorical force of authoritative discourses and delimited diasporic discursive practices Chinese news sources are able to exercise great authoritative power partly due to their rhetorical force, which is very much determined by local conventions (Schudson 1989a). In comparison to diasporic newspaper operations, China- based news sources are highly regarded for their professional and authoritative images because they are well-organized international institutions with government backing and substantial resources and networks. They are considered trustworthy sources with high status. They have easy access to high-ranking government officials. By contrast, local journalists may not even have the status to get into formal news conferences (Editor-in-Chief I). Hence, official Chinese newsfeeds are always given a prominent position and are placed in the front pages—the belief being that they can contribute to the professional image of the newspapers (Editor G). The editors do not mind printing identical pieces of news and photos in their newspapers,8 and usually do not edit the writings of Xinhua. As one editor mentioned, “We do not have the authority and do not want complaints from Xinhua” (Editor G). Some would even give up their journalistic role to submit to official news sources. “We are a small organization and have no need to go into professional news reporting” (Editor-in-Chief I). Consequentially, editors avoid commentary and writing on political issues; they do not want to get into controversial topics. “Politically 116 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong sensitive issues are not what we can deal with” (Managing Director D). “The Embassy is of more importance on these issues; its opinions are more important and more representative. It is not appropriate for us to comment” (Editor G). Besides political considerations, there are also economic reasons for editors to refrain from adopting a journalistic role. Nowadays, the increasing number of Chinese corporations abroad means greater potential advertising revenue for the local newspapers. The attraction of maintaining good business relationships with these organizations leaves local editors with limited space for engaging in criticism (Editor-in-Chief B). As a result of all these pragmatic considerations and constraints, official news discourses get articulated as higher-level discourses (Fairclough 2010), which not only overrule editorial decisions but also determine the position and boundaries of the discursive conventions and elements adopted at lower levels. One important aspect of the dominant authoritative discourses, I argue, is the hegemonic attempt to engage the diaspora in the national project of China.

Ideological content in hegemonic discourses: imagining the diaspora into the national To depict the ideological content of the official discourses, we now turn to the results of my textual analysis, within which several themes related to the cultural identity of the diasporic community and its relationship with the “homeland” can be identified. In a nutshell, by invoking the “myth of consanguinity” (Chow 1993: 24), the dominant discourses articulate the “natural” bonding of Chi- nese diaspora with its ethnic origin, thereby subjecting the diaspora to moral obligations to the presumed homeland. This is best demonstrated in the two themes of “China as the unforsakeable Mother” and “Overseas Chinese as the obligated prodigal sons,” as explained below. Appealing to the mythical connection of consanguinity, relations between China and diaspora communities are analogized as members of a family in which China is constantly referred to affectionately as “Mother” or the “maiden home” of overseas “sons and daughters” (United Times 2011a). The naturalized familial bonding is stressed explicitly and emotively in Lunar New Year evening gala titles like “Motherland Misses You” and “China of Filial Love,” so as to emphasize the inseparable nature of the bonding (United Times 2012). This primordial bonding of blood relationships is again the myth that ties the “fate” and future of overseas Chinese with their ethnic homeland. “We have bundled our future tightly together with the fate of the mother country,” because “the nation [China] is strong; the overseas communities are strong” (Asian News 2011b; United Times 2011d). Official Chinese discourses proudly stress the recently prosperous China, so overseas Chinese are prompted to feel proud and glorious for having such a strong and successful motherland. “Without the prosperity of the mother country, the strayed sons overseas would not have this happiness and pride today” (Asian News 2011c). This is because “a strong and prosperous China is an important backup for migrant Chinese in Politics of Homeland 117 fighting for political rights, and an unlimited source of power in their livelihood and development” (Lin 2011). Therefore, overseas Chinese have their fair share of obligations to meet in contributing to the development of China and Chinese nationality (Asian News 2011a; Chinese Embassy in the Netherlands 2012) even though they are “prodigal sons who cannot return home” (United Times 2011c). Such rationales are taken for granted and remain unquestioned largely due to the strong and highly praised Confucian tradition among ethnic Chinese. In the traditional Confucian hierarchical society, sons are expected to be sub- missive to their parents out of filial obedience and moral obligation, like subjects of the emperor. The sons are expected to contribute to the reputation and wellbeing of the family; overseas Chinese are likewise endowed with duties to the Mother. They are praised for succeeding in “demonstrating the strength of Chinese culture and becoming integrated into mainstream society” (Asian News 2011c), and because their hard work and economic contributions had earned great appreciation from the host country (United Times 2011b; Xinhua News Agency 2011; Asian News 2011a). They are “the representatives who demonstrate how Chinese people embrace peace, advocate harmony, and are open, progressive, and amicable in seeking cooperation” (Embassy of the PRC in the Netherlands 2012). The model migrants are, therefore, entrusted with the role of “civil ambassadors for Sino-Dutch economic and cultural exchange” (Shan 2012) to serve as the bridge and bonding between China and the Netherlands for better Sino-Dutch relationships and bilateral development in the future (Lin 2011; Pan 2011). They are expected to “take a clear-cut stand against any secession and enthusiastically support the unification of China” (Asian News 2011b; United Times 2011d). In such hegemonic discourses, overseas Chinese are praised for remaining unswayable and inseparable from their ethnic origin, and for staying forever as an integral part of “the national.” To summarize, the official discourses retain a centralist attitude on the supre- macy of Chinese culture and unquestioned ethnic bonding with China. They presume that “China …[is] an unambiguous political entity and Chineseness … a feature shared by ethnic Chinese on the basis of discrete traits and traditions” (Chun 1996: 113). China, as the Mother, is assumed to be the “fixed center of identity” for all ethnic Chinese (Chow 1999: 157), so diasporic Chinese are imagined collectively into the national project without considering their diversity, multiplicity, and possibility of multiple expressions of Chineseness. Never- theless, alternative narratives of the diasporic community can still be found in the inner pages of the newspapers. These alternative narratives are able to represent a multiplicity of identities that are not necessarily homogeneous and do not appeal only to bloodline and ethnicity. Rather, collective history and memories are invoked for communal identification.

Alternative narratives: communal identities and collective memories Hegemonic discourses of Chinese news sources have proliferated in the newspapers, and have framed the narratives of these papers from within; they 118 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong can only be confronted with a different way of storytelling. One editor remarked: “There is a certain kind of censorship, but there are always opportunities for playing edge ball [ca bian qiu]. We don’t cross their bottom line [and that is alright]” (Editor-in-Chief B). The expression ca bian qiu is often used to refer to people playing skillfully at the edges of the law or regulation “to challenge the existing rules and avoid punishment” (Li 2012: 207). For this editor, the tech- nique of playing edge ball makes it possible for the construction of certain alternative narratives that are not openly confrontational; stories are retold from different perspectives that suggest different readings. In the narratives of the community members, it is through collective memories and history that the diaspora talks back to the hegemonic discourses imposed on it from the outside. Collective memory and history are indispensible elements in the construction of a common identity in any society. They help to cultivate a shared past and the community’s sense of unity and particularity that distinguish the group in question from other groups (Assmann and Czaplicka 1995; Erll 2008). The past cannot be manipulated by the sheer exercise of will (Schud- son 1989b), but it can still be recollected selectively to fulfill particular moral objectives (Nerone 1989). And this is the case for diasporic journalists. Pro- ducers are provided with the leeway to select and use materials from the past according to the conventions of media practice and their personal ideologies (Lang and Lang 1989). By presenting different, or even oppositional, collective memories, minority social groups may challenge the memory of the larger society (Nerone 1989) and produce counter-narratives to construct or strengthen particular communal identities (de Leeuw 2010). From my textual analysis of diasporic newspaper content, I found that personal and collective memories were invoked often in the alternative narratives of local journalists. Three sets of counter-narratives could be identified. The first set of counter-narratives speaks against the notion of an unbreakable tie with China, pointing out that not all members of the diasporic community are bonded with China as the unquestioned Mother. Instead, it is the loss of such a bonding that is reinforced in nostalgia and recollection of personal and familial history. In a short piece of travelogue written by a journalist after she attended a media forum in Chongqing, the journalist reports that she did not visit the grand construction projects on the Yangtze River that the concerned Chinese authority took so much pride in, but instead chose out of nostalgia to roam in old river towns (Cai 2011). However, she found only a sense of loss: “I could not rediscover those ancient times, stories, and poems; it felt like being stood up by an old friend once again, with an unspeakable sense of disappointment.” In the event, although she mentioned seeing people moving their household furniture to the upper valley, she had learnt about the flooding only in the evening news later that day. She sighed. “What I found everywhere as a child has now disappeared without a trace, who knows when. I realized abruptly that it is nowhere to be found and can only be recalled with lament.” Such nostalgia is not necessarily the conceptual opposite of progress and development (Pickering and Keightley 2006), but in this case it was a feeling Politics of Homeland 119 of loss due to the drastic changes resulting from recent developments. It was about “atime,” instead of “a place,” that was lost forever in the past and there was no going back (Wilson 2005). Confronted with reality and the loss of “a time,” the recall of fond memories of the past and the sentimental bonding with a place are shattered, and they are lamented. Apart from personal memory, familial memory also plays a role in realizing the broken bonds with China. In one special feature story, members of those Chinese families that have been settled in the country for over a hundred years were invited to retell their family stories (United Times 2011e). One migrant recalled how his family name was changed into a Dutch surname— Zee—when his grandfather registered as a sailor in Amsterdam. He told how his familial linkage with China was lost even further: “We went to China to look for our grandfather’s hometown a few years ago, only to discover that the whole town was gone. So personally speaking, there is no point in going back now.” While imagination of the homeland is sustained in the memories of the previous generation (Ngan 2008), the second generation is inevitably more distant psychologically from the homeland of their parents (Li 1991). With the passage of the last trace of familial footprints, the connection with China can be forsaken quite easily. The link with “homeland” can be broken altogether, along with the irretrievable loss of the specific time and space that were once sustained in the collective memory. By invoking history and memory, the diasporic community is able to present alternative narratives that are different from, or even challenging to, the dominant discourses. Recollec- tion of the past and nostalgia prompt the forfeiture of the present time and places of the homeland, thus making possible the disenchantment with the myth of an unbreakable lineage with China as the naturalized Mother. The second set of counter-narratives in personal diasporic accounts of lived experience challenges the image of overseas Chinese as respectful model migrants who have succeeded in promoting Chinese culture in the Nether- lands. For instance, a number of community members recalled the history and their personal experience of discrimination and stereotyping. An up-and- coming young designer talked about how he was mistaken for a Chinese take-away delivery boy at his own fashion show (Chun 2011). One old migrant recalled how the hostile policies of the Dutch government had kept early migrants fearful and cautious, while another migrant mentioned how his Dutch grandmother and mother were forced to give up their nationality when they married Chinese men before the 1950s; also, their children were denied Dutch passports (United Times 2011e). These life stories contradict the dominant official discourses, which tend to construct a harmonious picture of the relationship between Chinese and the host country. Quite often, however, the reality is that the history of the diaspora can be recalled to produce a different, even disgraceful, story. The portrait of “model migrants” was contested sometimes by individuals recalling the disgraceful history of human trafficking and racial discrimination that is avoided in official narratives. In one column article, a writer criticized 120 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong the glorification of early migrants and called for a faithful account of the history of Chinese migrants to the Netherlands (Wang 2011). During the period of lavish celebration around the centenary of Chinese immigration to the Netherlands, he wrote about the history of the early migrants and the peanut-cake trading of those poor migrants who barely survived, and only by hawking on the streets. The writer pointed out that the inglorious history was deliberately forgotten or diluted: “Consciously or unconsciously, the secret smuggling of Chinese into the Netherlands is now retold as valiant landing” (Writer H). Furthermore, the migrant history and collective memory also challenge the ability of the all-inclusive construct of “Chineseness” to represent the whole diasporic community. The third set of counter-narratives speaks against the homogenous construct of Chineseness in hegemonic discourses by invoking a collective diasporic experience, supposedly shared by all Asian immigrants. This can be best understood by looking into the diverse composition of the diasporic Chinese community, in which not all ethnic Chinese trace their origins to China. In fact, the diasporic community is made up of people who are of Chinese ethnicity but who originate from places too diverse to be collectively identified under a singular notion of “Chinese.” Besides the large proportion of immigrants from Hong Kong and Taiwan, there are also Indonesian, Peranakan, Vietnamese, Macanese, Singaporean, and Surinamese Chinese. They can also be legitimately subdivided into sub-ethnic and nuclear communities on the basis of their last country of abode, their social status, and when they migrated. In the Netherlands, there have long been different types of sub-ethnic Chinese community and various nucleus communities of Cantonese-speaking Chinese from Guangdong and Hong Kong (Pieke 1992). The Chinese community is further divided into the large number of newcomers from China since the 1980s and those who arrived earlier (Li 2002b, 2011). It is therefore not surprising that there are more than a hundred associations today within the small population of diasporic Chinese living in the Netherlands (Managing Director D). The fact that a person usually belongs to a number of these associations (Ex-Director K) suggests the diverse yet strong communal identities of the diaspora. Isn’tit more appropriate, then, to describe the diasporic community in plural form? The problem in identifying with the overarching idea of Chineseness as advocated in dominant discourses is further challenged by those members of the second generation of migrants who question the superiority of Chinese culture (Li 1991). Many young Chinese migrants do not have personal sentiments that favor China; they tend to take the shared experience of living in diaspora as a more prominent factor of identification. One good example is Doris Yeung, the founder of the CinemAsia Film Festival in the Netherlands (China Times 2012). She is a US-born Chinese whose parents had progressively resettled the family in Hong Kong, the United States, and the Netherlands. Her personal trans-continental diasporic experience explains why she stresses the collective Asian diasporic experience at the film festival. According to her, the CinemAsia Film Festival serves as a platform to explore the diversified Politics of Homeland 121 Asian culture and identity, especially of Dutch Asians. As the reporter stresses, the “assembled voice of the Asian migrants” is “a proud Asian identification that infiltrates Western hegemonic culture” and “releases the urge deep in the group’s collective memory to be heard and understood.” One purpose of the festival was to enhance the visibility of Asian immigrants so as to resist stereo- typical images such as “Asian nerd” and “Chinese take-away,” and this was to be achieved through filmic representations of their cultures and lived experiences. As we can see, the younger generation deconstructs the monotonous representation of Chineseness by replacing it with the multivocality of Asianness, which allows flexible identification in pluralities based on shared diasporic experiences. This demonstrates how collective memory and shared experience are valuable tools for constructing group identity (Halbwachs 1980). By invoking a common history and pan-ethnic identity simultaneously, diasporic youth are able to represent their own versions of identification and to construct counter-narratives to the prevailing hegemonic discourses.

Conclusion: hegemonic discourses in diasporic identity politics In a discussion on the relationship between violence and representation in “writing diaspora,” Rey Chow (1993: 8) criticizes orientalism and particularism as forms of cultural essentialism and imperialism through an ideological dom- ination that does not entail physical oppression. I would like to extend Chow’s arguments to hegemonic Chinese discourses, which I consider as a form of particularism and cultural essentialism that infiltrates the diaspora with a particular kind of long-distance nationalism, thereby negating migrants’ agency in representation. The Chineseness represented in official discourses is a kind of essentialism in the sense that it is limited to only one understanding of Chineseness that predetermines a particular set of relationships between diasporic Chinese and an ambiguous “Chinese culture.” The ideological strength and hegemonic power of this notion of Chineseness has already drawn concern and criticism (Chun 1996; Chow 1999; Ang 2001). The construct ignores the fact that Chineseness is “an open and indeterminate signifier” (Ang 1998: 225) and that Chinese ethnicity has been reshaped and changed due to its long history of enculturational experience and pragmatic considerations in the contextual environments of diverse host countries (Serrie and Hsu 1998). Taking China as the unquestioned Mother of all Chinese is actually an expression of “ideological China- centredness” that coerces all diasporic Chinese into a monolithic construct of primordial and ethnical belonging based on the “presumption of internal ethnic sameness and external ethnic distinctiveness” (Ang 2001: 83). It demonstrates how “essentialism is another form of oppression” (Husband 1994: 11), especially for those who have been cut off from China for a long time, even for generations. Nonetheless, what the dominant discourses are trying to do is articulate the diaspora into the national by infiltrating the community with a strong national sentiment. 122 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong The stress on a fateful blood-tie between the ethnic Mother and her grate- ful sons feeds into China’s “transnational nationalism” (Ang 2001: 83), a peculiar kind of “long-distance nationalism” (Appadurai 1996; Naficy 2003). In this age of globalization, nation-states seek sustenance not just by maintaining their relevance but also by engaging in transnationality so as to compete for the role of defining and controlling the population (Ong 1999). The catalyzation of long-distance nationalism actualizes the national politics to stay relevant to the diaspora—a process that is in line with the traditional ideological practices of the “United Front” of Communist China (Cai and Xiao 1995). One may rightly question whether this kind of long-distance nationalism catalyzed by a faraway “homeland” is actually beneficial to the diaspora. Therefore, due caution is needed when considering the intervention of the “China factor” in transnational diasporic Chinese media and the resulting risk associated with the “export of PRC patriotism” (Sun 2005: 77). Some scholars also question the promotion of Chinese culture among overseas Chinese communities as a valid strategy for fostering China’s soft power, and assert that state policy is not aligned with the efforts of diasporic Chinese to become a constitutive component of the ethnic culture in their host country (Li and Huang 2009). Understandably, unbridled long-distance nationalism or national naturalism that assumes “a natural association of a culture … a people … and a place” (Gupta and Ferguson 1992: 12) could be disturbing for the resettlement of deterritorialized people in their new social space. In the complex process of cultural maintenance and hybrid identification in the sense of cosmopolitanism (Sinclair and Cunningham 2000), migrants need to assert their agency in self-representation and negotiation; however, they face the risk that such agency will be undermined by hegemonic discourses. The imposition of a monolithic cultural identity deprives diasporic Chinese of any agency in their identification with and emotive exploration of their heritage (Ang 2001). Although the ethnic homeland constitutes a significant element of diasporic consciousness (Hall 2000), one can argue that the “submission to consanguinity means the surrender of agency—what is built on work and livelihood rather than blood and race” (Chow 1993: 24). Lived experience is an important defining element in diasporic identification, which, as ever, is a process of “becoming” and “being” constructed by memory and narrative that tell stories of peculiar experience from different positions by the people themselves (Hall 2000). Diasporic people can take tradition as a powerful resource to not only restage the past but also invent new traditions (Bhabha 2004: 3) and thus maintain the “locality” of their own community (Dayan 1998; Tsagarousianou 2001). The personal lived experiences and narratives in the locality empower diasporic people with agency in self-identification. None- theless, they have to be able to represent and share the “ongoing sense of themselves and an understanding of their fellows” (Jenkins 2008: 15) among community members so as to effectively construct and maintain the community. Diasporic media are the vehicles for performing the diasporic people’s agency in representation. Politics of Homeland 123 Diasporic media play important roles as public sphericules (Gitlin 1998) that not only inform the communities about “day-to-day existence in a location” (Karim 2003: 10) but also equip them with an “explicit counterideology in terms of ethnicity” (Riggens 1992: 278). Public sphericules provide the means for raising common concerns and negotiating group interests; for instance, pushing for political recognition and rights to full citizenship (Hus- band 1994, 2000). The concept of “homeland” can be invoked in diasporic representation to build a common identity of the subordinated groups in face of suppressive majority culture (Gilroy 1993), and the mediation of “imaginary homeland” is “itself a political act” of dominated groups (Rushdie 1991: 13) in claiming their culture and rights. In this study, media representation of the diaspora is overridden by hegemonic discourses wholesaled from a faraway homeland; diasporic people are deprived of the necessary tools of self- representation to act and speak. It is only by reclaiming the right to these “ethno-specific minoritarian public ‘sphericule[s]’” (Sinclair and Cunningham 2000: 28) that diasporic communities can reclaim their agency to tell their stories and to evaluate their often hybridized and hyphenated identification. Last but not least, by analyzing alternative narratives in the diasporic community I am not trying to mitigate the hegemonic power of the dominant discourses. These hegemonic discourses are sustained by an unparalleled political and economic power that is capable of overwhelming diasporic media representation. The consequences can be interrupting, if not violent and hazardous, to the identity politics and cultural formation of the diasporic community.

Discussion: diasporic media in the globalized world The “politics of homeland” and the intervention of the faraway homeland bring new perspectives to the study of diasporic media in the age of globalization. The introduction of the intervening homeland in the diaspora enables us to look beyond the simplistic assumptions that position an ethnic minority in a dichotomous relation with mainstream society, which often promotes suppressive “norms” and notions of “natural” to marginalize the minority and define it as a deviation (Gross 1998). However, the picture is becoming even more complex nowadays, with the distant homeland taking initiatives and intervening from afar. Hence, it is necessary to rethink the landscapes of diasporic media within a more complex web of power and dominance in the global context. Assisted by advances in communication technology and increasing capital flows in today’s globalized world, ideology is also flowing across borders in disjunctive forms along with the movement of migrants and media content (Appadurai 1996). As shown in this study, the distant homeland is able to infiltrate overseas communities using a system of meanings and discourses that are tilted in favor of the homeland; and that intervention has problematized diasporas in adjusting and defining themselves in relation to the homeland’s narratives, values, and sources of imagination. Even if the faraway self-claimed ethnic center is not able to achieve a general consensus 124 Cindy Cheung-Kwan Chong among diasporic communities, it will certainly create more problematics than solutions. To conclude, the fluxes of cross-border technology and capital flows in the age of intensified globalization are capable of shaping and reshaping the mediascapes of deterritorialized people. Dominant as well as alternative discourses do not come in a linear fashion but are multi-faceted and intertwined. While studying diasporic communities and the minority media in the contemporary world of accelerated transnational interconnectedness, we can no longer conceptualize the issues in terms of a simple minority versus majority structure. Intricate patterns of mediation and identification and complex webs of power and dominance need to be discerned if we are to understand the role and function of diasporic media in the globalized world today.

Appendix: list of interviewees Manager A—Newspaper 1, second-generation migrant from Hong Kong, raised and educated in the Netherlands. Editor-in-Chief B—Newspaper 1, first-generation migrant from Mainland China. Editor C—Newspaper 2, second-generation migrant from Hong Kong. Managing Director D—Newspaper 2, first-generation Chinese migrant from China. Ex-editor E—Community leader, second-generation Chinese from Zhejiang, retired. Managing Director F—Community leader from Hong Kong, second- generation migrant and one of the directors of a European Chinese newspaper. Editor G—Newspaper 2, Chinese migrant from Mainland China, university graduate in the Netherlands. Writer H—Community leader and ex-journalist, first-generation migrant from Hong Kong. Editor-in-Chief I—Newspaper 3, first-generation Chinese migrant from Shanghai. Vice Editor-in-Chief J—Newspaper 3, writer and editor. Chinese migrant from Mainland China, university graduate in the Netherlands. Ex-Director K—Community leader from Hong Kong, third-generation migrant who was the founder, director, and editor of an early Chinese newspaper in the Netherlands.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Utrecht University for providing me with the Short Stay Fellowship that allowed me to complete this work, and Professor Sonja de Leeuw for her guidance and advice throughout the research process. 2 The visit of Jai Qinglin was one of the oﬃcial events for the fortieth anniversary of diplomatic relations between the two governments. Lian He Te Kan was published on October 27, 2011 (see Pan 2011). Politics of Homeland 125 3 There is a monthly half-hour TV program and a daily one-hour radio program in Amsterdam produced by Chinese Radio and Television (CRTV; see CRTV.nl). 4 All translations in this chapter are my own, unless otherwise speciﬁed. 5 He Hua Yue Kan was printed in A3 size and contained more than twenty pages of information on Dutch and Chinese society. It had a circulation of 2,000 copies, which were posted to Dutch-Chinese restaurants after being printed in Hong Kong. The publication lasted for one year. 6 Shuang Yue Kan was an A4-size newsletter published once every two months, with a circulation of 2,000–3,000 copies distributed by post. 7 The newspaper, published by Algemene Chinese Vereniging in Nederland [The general Chinese society in the Netherlands], was started as a bimonthly with a circulation of 1,700 copies per issue. Before being closed down in 2008, it was a twenty-four-page biweekly with a circulation of 10,000. 8 For example, the same report and photo on the meeting of Jia Qinglin with Mark Rutte provided by Xinhua News Agency was carried by both United Times (2011e) on November 1, 2011, and Asian News on November 10, 2011; and another report on the “1911 Chinese revolution centenary memorial symposium” held by the Chinese embassy was also carried by United Times (2011d) on September 20, 2011, and Asian News (2011a) on September 29, 2011.

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Jingrong Tong

This chapter examines the discourse of “motherland” on the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” (HYS) forum. It offers a discourse analysis of forum users’ narratives of memories of the “June Fourth” event (shorthand for the political crackdown on the pro-democracy movement on June 4, 1989) in their discussions of the event over a five-year period (2009–13). The existing literature (e.g. Ong 2006; Sun 2002, 2010b; Chan 2005; Ding 2007/2008) suggests that diasporic Chinese in some countries—Singapore and Australia, for example—have developed a nationalist sentiment toward their motherland, especially nowadays when China is strong economically. This chapter wants to find out whether this is the case in the case of the BBC Chinese HYS forum. Most studies of Chinese-language diasporic media (such as Sun 2002, 2005, 2006; Zhou and Cai 2002; Zhou, Chen, and Cai 2006; Sun, Gao, et al. 2011; Sun, Yue, et al. 2011; Li 2013) have focused on media originating within Chinese diasporic communities, which are minority media in their host countries and are fixed in locality. So far, the role of the mainstream media from the global West in shaping diasporic Chinese subjectivities remains unclear. As distinct from Chinese-language diasporic media, the BBC is one of the most influential mainstream media outlets in the United Kingdom (the host country) and in the world. It enjoys a high level of credibility and global presence. The BBC Chinese HYS forum benefits from BBC’s global prominence and presence in terms of influence and attractiveness. Facilitated by the Internet, the UK-hosted forum provides an interactive and deterritorializing global space for overseas Chinese to engage in transnational communication on China-related topics of interest to them. On the one hand, like-minded forum users—as well as those who follow completely different value systems— can express their views on the forum regardless of their locality. In fact, in 2012 the majority of forum users were based outside of mainland China, and nearly half of them were from the United States of America (Tong and Mackay 2013). On the other hand, given the BBC’s claim to uphold the values of impartiality and objectivity, the forum moderators are not supposed to filter certain posts while including others in order to control the tone of the forum, although moderation criteria do apply to the forum. Consequently, Motherland and “June Fourth” 131 diverse opinions might appear on the forum. Therefore, it remains to be seen if this discourse of “motherland” leads to favorable representations of China or reflects the allegiance of diasporic Chinese to China, as many other studies of the Chinese diaspora have found. This chapter analyzes forum discussions of the “June Fourth” event. Thread topics on the event have appeared recurrently on the forum over the past few years.1 In their discussions, forum users narrate their individual and collective memories of the event and express their views on the status quo (the social, political, and economic conditions) in China. Their diverse narratives reflect their feelings toward motherland. This study takes an inductive con- structionist approach to analyzing these discussions. June Fourth is a land- mark event in contemporary Chinese history, embodying the once-democratic dream of the Chinese people. The occurrence of the event has been seen by many as China’s historical turning point (Li and Lee 2013; Liu 2005; Wu 2011). Since then, hopes for political reform have dimmed and there has been an increasing surge in the waves of economic reform. China has opted for a socialist market economy with Chinese characteristics rather than a liberal market economy. Although banned in mainland China, June Fourth has become an influential “media event” in foreign media coverage (Dayan and Katz 1992; Li and Lee 2013). The term “Tiananmen” has been especially used as an icon in the Western media, symbolizing the continuing dictatorship of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) (Lee et al. 2011). No matter how reluctant the Chinese government is to talk about the event, June Fourth is embedded in the nation’s inerasable collective memory. Commemorating June Fourth would reflect and reveal conflicting agendas and ideological divides about the political and economic cultures of China. To reflect on the event and its far-reaching consequences offers meanings for the present, of which the past is in part constitutive. Competing for a place in history, various discourses, stories, and opinions about the event can be seen conveying different kinds of feeling toward the motherland. The chapter contends that when it comes to discussing June Fourth, nationalism is not the dominant sentiment expressed on the forum. Instead, transnational communication in the virtual space offered by the BBC Chinese HYS forum forms a dual discourse of motherland among a group of geographically dispersed diasporic Chinese: the motherland is either politically tortured or economically prosperous. Both favorable and unfavorable attitudes toward the motherland have been expressed. Diasporic forum users’ feelings toward the motherland mix together patriotism, nationalism, antagonism, alienation, and belonging. Forum users hold polarized attitudes—either “self-exiling from” or “longing-for”—toward the motherland. This polarity suggests a dynamic identity politics across the Chinese diaspora globally. On the one hand, the anguished memories of June Fourth, a traumatic historical event, generate feelings of alienation and distrust among some overseas Chinese in relation to the current politics of mainland China. This distrust stops them from feeling a sense of belonging toward the motherland. On the other hand, however, the 132 Jingrong Tong economic prosperity of China increases the sense of belonging among those overseas Chinese who pay more attention to the economic side of the motherland than to its political aspects. In this case, factors that have helped shape the formation of the discourses include the global credibility of the BBC, the nature of the event selected for discussion, and the deterritorializing capability of the Internet.

The Chinese diaspora: memories and motherland The involvement of Chinese in worldwide migration can be traced back centuries (Ma 2003). A study supported by the Chinese government found that by 2008 the number of overseas Chinese living outside greater China had reached around fifty million (Zhuang 2010). While overseas Chinese can be found in almost all countries, several changes in their geographical distribution have taken place: the proportion of overseas Chinese in East and South Asia had declined, though with an increase in their number in North America and Europe (Chang 1968; Zhuang 2010). In the United Kingdom, for example, the number of Chinese migrants living in England and Wales increased from 408,000 in 2007 to 451,500 (0.8 percent of the population) in 2009 (The Guardian 2011). Chinese go abroad for various reasons, including for political, economic, and educational purposes. Whatever the reason, they have one thing in common: having grown up in China means these migrants hold memories of what happened in the past in their motherland. Memories construct and reconstruct happenings in the past, shaping one’s identity (Sturken 1997). Either personal memories or collective memories convey experiences and explanations of the past and the present. Collective memory is an “actoftransfer”“in the present by which individuals and groups constitute their identities by recalling a shared past on the basis of common, and therefore often contested, norms, conventions, and practices” (Hirsch and Smith 2002: 5). Sturken (1997) contends that historical events or periods such as the Vietnam War and the AIDS epidemic offer cultural memory sites in which culture is defined and different versions of stories compete to define history. The occurrence of important dramatic events—such as the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York—forces diasporas to arouse memories of the past, to rethink their identity, and to reflect on their attitudes and feelings toward motherland and host countries. In China, historical and traumatic events such as the Cultural Revolution, the Nanjing Massacre, and June Fourth are a critical part of contemporary history and embody meanings of Chinese culture. They are Sturken’scultural memory sites, where different versions of these events compete for a place in history. For Chinese people in general—and, in this chapter, the Chinese diaspora in particular—who have or have not personally experienced these events, remembering these events forces them to think about China’s not-so-distant past. Such knowledge helps to construct their identity and constitute an understanding of the present. Motherland and “June Fourth” 133 In terms of June Fourth, after the event many intellectuals left China for the West in pursuit of their political, economic, or educational dreams (Sun 2002; Zhou et al. 2006; Zhou 2009). These people are an important part of the current contingent of the Chinese diaspora. For them, the traumatic event of June Fourth is likely to be especially meaningful and bear particular cultural memories of China, since it was such a watershed event—for not only their homeland but also their life paths. However, discussion of this traumatic contemporary event has been banned in mainland China as a result of the government’s political censorship. Though forgetting this event is seen as dangerous for the world (Friedman 2008), the political authorities in China have been willing to control the narrative of the event for their own benefit. June Fourth thus remains a forbidden topic in mainland China and is seen as an instance of the CCP’s “tactic of amnesia”—an attempt to wipe out any memory of the Tiananmen crackdown (Wu 2011: 49). This is largely because the narratives of June Fourth define Chinese history and even impact on the current ruling legitimacy of the CCP. But what about overseas Chinese and Western media outlets like the BBC, which are not under the control of the CCP? Do these media offer a space for overseas Chinese to express their memories of the event? And if overseas Chinese are still able to commemorate June Fourth, what do their memories have to say about their feelings toward China? It is interesting to note that the existing literature suggests that the bond— either emotional or personal—between Chinese diaspora and motherland is not easy to break, and has become even stronger than before with China’s economic development and political stability since June Fourth (Sun 2002). On some occasions, diasporic Chinese may even have patriotic sentiments toward their motherland. For example, some—including students and migrants— have been found exhibiting disapproval of representations of the Tibet issue in the Western media and echoing the propagandistic tone of the Chinese government (Sun 2010b). Sun argues that the main reason for the response of overseas Chinese is the rising status of China in the global arena. Ong (2006) also argues that overseas Chinese are largely in accord with the interests and politics of the Chinese government. Besides, existing research seems to have found that the Internet helps overseas Chinese construct and consolidate their national identity and “Chineseness.” For example, with the help of the Inter- net, diasporic Chinese see themselves as an extension of their motherland (Ong 2006: 63). Chan’s (2005) study shows that participation in Internet forums has forged a strong sense of nationalism among Chinese migrants in Singapore, who resist the influence of the United States and their host society; while Ding’s (2007/2008) research suggests that the nationalism of the Chinese diaspora, facilitated by the connectivity of the Internet, has been manipulated and used by the Chinese government. The rise of the Internet has turned the Chinese diaspora into a digital diaspora that plays an important role in the Chinese government’s national image building. However, this may not present the whole picture, as the Chinese diaspora is not a monolithic block but a broad spectrum of diverse groups, each with its 134 Jingrong Tong particular political and economic interests. These complex interests could be expected to have an impact on Chinese migrants’ reflections on historical and traumatic events such as June Fourth, which are likely to embody severe ideological conflicts and historical pain. Discussion of historical events such as June Fourth, either in daily conversation or in the news media, not only reveals overseas Chinese people’s memories of these events but also pushes them to negotiate with what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. During this process, the discourse of motherland can be shaped, reflecting the identity of Chinese migrants and their positions and feelings toward the motherland.

Global diasporic Chinese mediasphere and diasporic expression The global diasporic Chinese mediasphere is undergoing transformation. Chinese-language media outlets including newspapers, radio and TV have continued to flourish in the United States and Australia (Zhou and Cai 2002; Sun 2005). Likewise, there has been an increase in Chinese-language media in the United Kingdom: for example, the main Chinese-language newspapers— such as the Yingzhong Shi Bao (UK-Chinese Times), Huawen Zhoukan (Chinese Weekly), Ou Zhou Shi Bao, Yingguo (European Times/Nouvelles d’Europe,UK edition), Hua Shang Bao (Chinese Business Gazette), Sing Tao Daily (Europe), and Da Ji Yuan (Epoch Times)—have all been launched in the new century. Nevertheless, the ability of these traditional media outlets to facilitate diasporic expression is quite limited, given their one-way communication mode and their being confined to particular localities. Moreover, the arrival of the Internet era has changed this scenario significantly by offering Chinese migrants interactive platforms and increasing their access to Chinese-language media. Sun (2005) maps out a “global diasporic Chinese mediasphere” in the current new media era, which includes the platforms of print media, television, radio, the Internet, mobile, and other new media technologies. In this sphere, the ability to access a variety of Chinese-language media outlets meets the niche needs of Chinese migrant groups and “Chineseness” can be reinforced and practiced. In this transnational diasporic Chinese mediasphere, the Chinese diaspora’s access to Chinese-language media, the construction of Chinese communities, and their expressions of opinion and feeling go beyond national boundaries. Thus, three types of fundamental change have emerged in the Chinese diasporic mediasphere. First, overseas Chinese can now access more Chinese- language media content than in the past. They enjoy easy access to media content produced in greater China and in other parts of the world. For example, the website visited most frequently by Chinese migrants in North America is “the Chinese version of Yahoo.com” (Zhou and Cai 2002: 430). In some cases they even have more access to online Chinese-language media content than those in mainland China. This is because the latter’s access is limited by the political authorities’ application of an Internet firewall, a crucial means by which the state controls Internet content. The Internet thus Motherland and “June Fourth” 135 offers an online “Chinese cultural sphere” within which overseas Chinese can be connected and incorporated (Yang 2003). Second, the Internet gives rise to a new means of communication, which overseas Chinese can use to exchange information and express diasporic opinions on particular topics and issues. Such expressions have the potential to transform the identity of diasporic Chinese (Xie 2005). Not only the online editions of Chinese-language newspapers in different parts in the world but also Chinese-language public forums and websites—such as Wenxue City (WenxueCity.com) and Power Apple (PowerApple.com) in the United King- dom, Chinese In LA (ChineseInLA.com) and Huaren (HuaRen.us) in North America, and Aohua (Aohua.com.au) and Our Steps (OurSteps.com.au) in Australia—offer useful opportunities for overseas Chinese to exchange life information and express views on topics such as entertainment, health, politics, life, finance, and so on. The third type of change brought about by the Internet has been the entry of major global media outlets into the Chinese mediasphere. International news organizations such as the BBC, the Financial Times, and the Wall Street Journal have joined the band of Chinese-language media, trying to engage with Chinese users living outside and within China by offering them their own websites in Chinese. However, almost all their Chinese-language websites are more or less banned in mainland China and cannot be accessed from any device unless special techniques are used to circumvent the state-imposed Inter- net firewall. Unlike ordinary public Internet forums and Chinese-language diasporic media, the content of the Chinese websites hosted by these large Western news media organizations tends to bear the characteristics of these organizations and is influenced by their judgment of newsworthiness, their news values (such as objectivity), and their political and ideological stances, as well as by staff allocation and so on. Consequently, despite limited access within mainland China, the rise and presence of Chinese-language websites belonging to mainstream Western media outlets has helped reshape the overall landscape of the global diasporic Chinese mediasphere. Compared to their country fellows living in China, diasporic Chinese have more autonomy of expression as a result of the relative absence of mainland- style political censorship outside China. An outstanding example is discussion of the “June Fourth” incident. This topic is completely banned from being mentioned or discussed in any media or on any website hosted in mainland China, although mainland Internet users have used various lexical tactics2 to mention and comment on this event. Without using these techniques to get round Internet censorship, it would be impossible for those living in mainland China to access relevant information, let alone participate in discussions on this topic. By contrast, overseas Chinese face no such restrictions. Members of the Chinese diaspora across the world can freely express their resonance—or their disagreement—with views on such topics, without being limited by their geographical location. 136 Jingrong Tong However, not all public forums outside China pay attention to topics like June Fourth. Public forums such as PowerApple.com are very much focused on entertainment and other apolitical topics such as goods trading, dating, or exchanging film products, and thus rarely touch on the topic of June Fourth. Nevertheless, extensive discussions about June Fourth and relevant communities are often seen on social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter, and can also be found on some public forums such as WenxueCity.com. Indeed, WenxueCity.com even has a column called Liusi jiyi (Memories of June Fourth) that allows users to share their memories of the event and make comments. Users are able to select sub-topics of their own as long as they are relevant to June Fourth. According to the moderation policy of the forum, users’ postings will only be deleted if they are irrelevant, empty (including those containing invalid web links or lacking concrete content), include racist language or pornographic content, or are dominated by dialogue between two users. Apart from public forums and social media sites, another important medium where June Fourth has been extensively discussed is the BBC Chinese HYS forum. Discussions about June Fourth on the forum, however, are different from those on public forums such as WenxueCity.com. In particular, given the strict moderation policies of the BBC forum, discussions are more constrained than on ordinary public forums like WenxueCity.com or social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter. Historically, the BBC World Ser- vice played a key role in the ideological battle between capitalism and com- munism during the Cold War. In the post-Cold war era, to meet the current interests and values of the United Kingdom, the host country, the service has shifted to perform a public diplomacy role (Gillespie and Webb 2013). The BBC’s Chinese service can be dated back to 1941. Since 2011, when short- wave Mandarin programming was stopped after nearly seventy years’ service, Mandarin speakers have been served by the BBC’s Chinese-language websites in both simplified and traditional Chinese (Marsh 2011).3 The HYS forum is part of these two Chinese-language websites. The BBC also has two other Chinese-language websites,4 providing information about study and life in the United Kingdom and offering English language learning programs. Most BBC Chinese website users are based in countries other than China. In May 2012, only 5.7 percent of BBC Chinese website users were from mainland China, 8.8 percent from Taiwan, and 7.0 percent from Hong Kong, while 41.5 percent were based in the United States and 9.9 percent in the United Kingdom (Tong and Mackay 2013). June Fourth is a topic that repeatedly appears on the BBC Chinese HYS forum. Thread topics for June Fourth are set up by forum moderators, with an introduction to each topic and an invitation for comments from forum users (only those who have registered can publish comments on the forum). The BBC HYS forum is fully or reactively moderated by BBC moderators. Thus, discussions on the forum are more clearly framed and controlled by moderators, and thus enjoy less autonomy, than discussions on other public forums such as WenxueCity.com. In an earlier study we analyzed discussions Motherland and “June Fourth” 137 on the forum from 2009 and found a deep-rooted sense of “being Chinese” constructed in them, although these discussions cannot be seen as comprising “a fluent ‘global conversation’” (Mackay and Tong 2011; Tong and Mackay 2013: 231). Taking our earlier study as the basis for the present chapter, I would like to explore whether or not the forum discussions lead to the construction of a nationalist sentiment toward the motherland, through a discourse analysis of posts on the topic of June Fourth. Between 2009 and 2013 there were eleven threads that were identifiably on topics relating to June Fourth (see Table 7.1); these threads included 2,674 posts in total.

Methodological note and analytical approach The study presented in this chapter adopted the discourse analysis approach proposed by Fairclough (1995, 2000, 1992, 1989). It focused on analyzing the linguistic features of the posts rather than the interactivity of the content and the background of posters. The forum can be seen as falling within the public sphere, as access to posts is easy and does not require a password. The study examined the lexical choices and wording of posts, as well as the meanings and themes underlying them. All 2,674 posts on the eleven threads were uploaded to the qualitative data analysis software package NVivo for detailed analysis. There were three stages in the discourse analysis. The first stage examined the content of the posts, looking for and coding three types of content: memories of the event, narratives of the event, and comparisons between the past and the present. These three types of content were taken to define what happened during the event, the consequences and meaning of the event (and of the performance of the Chinese government at the time), and the status quo (what is happening now) in China. In the second stage, based on findings from the first stage, the types of frame constructed in the content were analyzed. These frames then formed the basis for the analysis of the discourse of motherland in the final stage. The analysis aims to understand the discourses of motherland that have been constructed in forum discussions of June Fourth and examine how these discourses have been formed.

The “June Fourth” discourse on the BBC Chinese HYS Forum The BBC Chinese HYS forum has provided website users with a space in which they can express diasporic views on the historic event of June Fourth. In this space, forum users negotiate the past and project the future onto the present. Accompanying memories of the past are key questions about what happened, why it happened that way, how this has impacted on the present, and what implications it has for the future. The CCP may be practicing the tactic of amnesia, which tries to erase all memories of the event, but diasporic forum users have certainly not lost their memories of it. Their narratives of memories of the event reﬂect on both the past and the present, highlighting their complex positions and feelings toward their motherland. Table 7.1 Eleven threads from the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, on topics relating to the “June Fourth” event Thread name Website URL No. of Start date–end comments date Twentieth http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 1,506 May 20–June anniversary of the thread.jspa?forumID=8895 29, 2009 “June Fourth” event Twentieth http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 168 April 13–June anniversary of the thread.jspa?forumID=8617&sta 5, 2009 death of Hu rt=15&zh=simp Yaobang Can the CCP start http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 134 April 15–April discussing history in thread.jspa?threadID=15423 27, 2010 public by remembering Hu Yaobang? The way http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 238 June 3–June Chinese zh/thread.jspa?forumID=11910 22, 2010 people’s remembering of June Fourth becomes more and more creative Will June Fourth http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 93 May 31–July happen again in zh/thread.jspa?forumID=14059 19, 2011 China? When will the http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 92 June 4–July Chinese authorities zh/thread.jspa?forumID=15684 11, 2012 redress June Fourth? Will June Fourth be http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 109 March 22– redressed soon? zh/thread.jspa?forumID=15389 June 6, 2012 Do you think http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 59 February 28– China’s new leaders zh/thread.jspa?forumID=16701 April 3, 2013 should solve the June Fourth problem? Should China’s new http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 158 May 30–June leaders redress June zh/thread.jspa?forumID=17076 16, 2013 Fourth? What is your view http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 20 June 5–June of Chen Xitong’s thread.jspa?forumID=17100 10, 2013 role in June Fourth? Should Ma Yun http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/ws/ 97 July 16–July apologize for his zh/thread.jspa?forumID=17260 22, 2013 June Fourth comments?

Source: Website URLs, as listed in the table. Motherland and “June Fourth” 139 Overall, there was a clear decline in the number of comments posted to the eleven threads between 2009 and 2013. Despite that, the meanings and themes of the posts remained consistent during this five-year period. The “June Fourth” discourse is revealed in the three types of post content about the historic event mentioned above: individual (personal) and collective memories of June Fourth and comments on these memories; narratives of June Fourth; and comparisons between the past and the present about the status quo in China. Our analysis identified four kinds of memories that underpin the “June Fourth” discourse: (1) individual and personal memories of eyewitnessed scenes and personal experiences—for example, posters’ experiences of participating in the student demonstration of 1989 as protestors, their personal feelings about what happened, and descriptions of what they saw with their own eyes in Beijing at that time; (2) memories of what participants or eyewitnesses told them; (3) memories of what posters saw on mainland China’s television programs, especially China Central Television (CCTV); and (4) general memories of this event as ordinary Chinese who may have had no contact with or particular memories of the event. The “June Fourth” discourse appears within a framework characterized by two dichotomies (see Figure 7.1). The first dichotomy exists between a pair of polarized narratives of the event itself, while the second occurs between two contrasting interpretations of the performance of the CCP during the event and the way in which the government of the time handled the movement. Both the “June Fourth” narratives and the evaluations of the performance of the CCP are drawn from posters’ memories of June Fourth and from their criticisms and evaluations of the status quo in China. Within the framework of these two dichotomies, the posts on the forum depict two conflicting images of June Fourth: a positive image of a pro-democracy movement that embodies patriotism, on the one hand; and a negative image of a politically dangerous movement that could have split and betrayed the motherland, on the other. Correspondingly, two rival images of the CCP have been constructed: the dictator CCP versus the savior CCP. The two dichotomies give rise to the most prominent “June Fourth” narrative on the forum. This narrative sees the event as a patriotic and pro-democracy

Patriotic/Democracy Narratives/Discourses of "June Fourth" Betraying/Splitting Motherland ^

Disastrous/Dictatorship Interpretations of Crackdown/the CCP Blessing/Savior

Figure 7.1 Two dichotomies in the “June Fourth” discourse, as identified in an analysis of posts on the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, 2009–13 Source: Jingrong Tong. 140 Jingrong Tong student movement that wanted to save the nation. Forum users repeatedly compared June Fourth with the “May Fourth” movement of 1919,5 defining “June Fourth” as a “patriotic democracy movement,” as exemplified in the following post: “While we all know that ‘May Fourth’ is patriotic, likewise June Fourth is patriotic.” On the other hand, this narrative is depicting the event as a massacre committed by the CCP and as putting an end to any possibility of achieving democracy in China. The narrative accuses the CCP of massacring students and cracking down on the democratic demands of students and others in the movement. This is manifest in the lexical choices made by posters. Words such as tusha (massacre), zhenya (crackdown), and ducai (dictatorship) appeared repeatedly in posts over the five years under consideration—tusha appearing 518 times, zhenya 536 times, and ducai 325 times. Nachang tusha (that massacre) was used to refer directly to June Fourth. These words define the nature of the event of June Fourth as well as reflect the attitudes of posters toward the performance of the CCP during the event and the twenty-five years since June Fourth. Therefore, in narrating their memories of June Fourth, while some posters defined the event as patriotic, others portrayed the CCP and the military as brutal and bloody. For example, one poster who was living in Beijing at the time described his/her feelings on the night of June 3, 1989, as follows: “Gunshots sounded like a storm. I was so scared that I hid underneath the bed and wondered whether the People’s Liberation Army was mad because even the Japanese would not be so cruel if they occupied Beijing.” Forum users also drew comparisons between the past and the current situation in China, thereby helping to construct interpretations of the meanings of political crackdown in the June Fourth event. Such comparisons suggest that, twenty-five years after the event, the CCP continues to practice dictatorship in China and no democracy at all has developed. The continuation of this authoritarian rule leads to various social problems, most notably the significant rich–poor gap, as well as the monopoly of economic, political, and social capital by advantaged individuals and social groups. Social inequalities and other social problems such as corruption have become prominent, even approaching an explosive level. Economic wealth and social capital are controlled by and concentrate in the hands of just a few interest groups. Both the past and the present have been used by posters to criticize the CCP of practicing dictatorship and blame its authoritarian rule for various social problems. Such criticism is exemplified in the following forum post:

I will never forget “June Fourth.” The gunshots resounded in the sky of Beijing during that night, and I heard someone shouting “down with fascism” followed by the sound of machine gun ﬁre. [On the morning of the next day] I saw blown-out brains left on the doorsteps of food stores that had not been cleaned up in time, and found that some of my friends from the University of Political Science and Law Studies were missing, and I have never been able to get in touch with them again … . However, what Motherland and “June Fourth” 141 is happening here in the land of China after twenty years? Oﬃcials and bandits are in power and people live in times of hardship. What a shame!

In this narrative one can find “June Fourth” constructed as a symbol of patriotism but also as a symbol of the continuing dictatorship of the CCP, while the political crackdown of the then Chinese government is portrayed as having brought disaster to the country and ending the possibility of it achieving democracy. The two dichotomies produce another “June Fourth” narrative that is relatively less prominent than the discourse of patriotism and democracy we have discussed already. This narrative involves describing June Fourth as an event in which naive students were taken advantage of by student leaders such as Wang Dan and Cai Ling and by Western anti-China forces such as the United States, as well as being the result of inter-Party factional struggles. According to this narrative, June Fourth happened in a context in which China was suffering from dual dangers—the West’s attack on China and internal factional struggles within the Party—which together were undermining the country’s stability and threatening to tear the nation apart. For this reason, this narrative suggests that the “June Fourth” crackdown actually saved China from collapsing like the former Soviet Union. June Fourth is portrayed as a symbol of a West-versus-China rivalry—suggesting that the West always wants to destroy China—as well as a symbol of the conflict between capitalism and socialism. Meanwhile, the narrative indicates that had the “June Fourth” protests been successful, China would have ended up in chaos, with internal conflicts similar to those that Syria has been experiencing in recent times. This narrative thus depicts June Fourth as a politically dangerous movement that would have split the motherland, further justifying the Chinese government’s crackdown during the event. The narrative further endorses and justifies the government’s performance during the “June Fourth” incident by praising China’s economic achievements and social stability since the economic reforms of the 1980s. “The economy” is another prominent theme, alongside those of “massacre,”“crackdown,” and “dictatorship.” Within this theme, reflections on China’s status quo focus on the economic aspects of the country. Whether pro- or anti-CCP, forum posters share the consensus that China has achieved rapid economic growth. Especially for those posters who praise the CCP as China’s savior, nationalism is manifest in their accounts of both June Fourth and the consequences of the political crackdown at the time of the event. They regard the June Fourth uprising as an obstacle to China’s development and national prosperity. This is exemplified in the following quote:

Now, China is the country that has the best and fastest development in the world … . The aim of political reform is to prompt economic development. China now has the fastest economic growth in the world. So the United States and the United Kingdom should undergo political reform [to make their political system similar to China’s]. 142 Jingrong Tong Chinese diaspora, historic event, and motherland The two dichotomies as well as the corresponding “June Fourth” narratives discussed above construct a discourse of a “politically tortured” motherland as well as a discourse of an “economically prosperous” motherland. The former portrays the motherland as being tortured by the ruling CCP, about which the forum posters are full of worries and concerns, whereas the latter depicts the motherland as an economically prosperous land where people enjoy a high standard of living, which forum posters are longing to be part of. These two discourses take different approaches to examining June Fourth— political and economic, respectively. We can see that the historic event of June Fourth is a controversial topic that can trigger traumatic memories for some overseas Chinese, as well as ignite ideological conflicts between pro- and anti- CCP discussion participants. The discourses also reflect the feelings of forum users toward the motherland. Rather than being dominated by nationalism, as the existing literature argues, forum users’ feelings toward the motherland are complex and mixed, including not just patriotism and nationalism but also antagonism, alienation, and belonging. Both pro- and anti-CCP posters reveal patriotic feelings toward China. The only difference between these two groups is that the former separate the CCP from the country and express love for the country but disapproval of the CCP, whereas the latter treat the CCP as equivalent to the country, thereby justifying the convergence of the Party-state. More specifically, the former group opposes the CCP out of love of country and is willing to defend the motherland against the influence of the CCP, whereas a different form of love of country is exhibited by the latter, who accept the rule of the CCP because the motherland is now “better” than other countries as a result of China’s rapid economic development. Feelings of antagonism and alienation are embodied in the first narrative, which supports the pro-democracy movement of June Fourth but opposes the CCP. For this group of forum users, their account reflects that fact that June Fourth is a political and emotional scar in their memories of motherland. Because of these traumatic memories and their critical reflections on the status quo in China, these posters exhibit their antagonism toward the CCP, as well as their alienation from China. However, those forum users whose posts embody the second narrative have expressed a desire to grow closer to their motherland because of its economic prosperity, and a willingness to protect it against attack from Western rivals. Forum users’ feelings toward the motherland can thus be described in terms of two types of motherland consciousness: “self-exile” and “longing-for.” In the “self-exile” consciousness, rather than completely forgetting or rejecting motherland, forum users choose to keep an emotionally safe distance because they feel sad about what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. They inhabit this kind of consciousness precisely because they love their home country and hope it will move toward democracy. However, in the “longing-for” Motherland and “June Fourth” 143 consciousness, individuals seek to grow closer to the motherland because they are attracted by its prosperity. This consciousness reflects a greater sense of nationalism in forum users than does the first type of consciousness. Therefore, through the medium of the Internet, the BBC Chinese service has provided a virtual space for overseas Chinese to give meaning to the past and discuss issues in which they all have an interest. In this space, diasporic forum users who might be based anywhere in the world are able to visit their not-too-distant memories of historical traumatic events such as June Fourth and reflect on the meaning of such events as well as of current circumstances in China. Their representative narratives and interpretations of June Fourth, as presented on the forum, reflect their positions on and feelings about the motherland. This is especially meaningful given that the CCP is trying to erase any memories of June Fourth from the contemporary history of China. However, we need to note that discourses of June Fourth and the motherland are of course influenced by the BBC’s strict moderation. Such discourses may therefore reflect the news values and moderation criteria of the BBC. Besides, the forum has constructed a virtual community comprising overseas Chinese plus those mainland Chinese who have discovered techniques for circumventing the government’s Internet firewall. This transnational community, which may be transient, is formed in the virtual space offered by the BBC Chinese HYS forum and is based not only on members’ ethnicity but also on the political beliefs and values that are embedded in their memories of historical events like June Fourth. This gives some new meanings to the notion of transnational Chineseness. Of course, we never learn the true background of posters, or their reasons for using the forum and making comments on topics such as June Fourth. In order to find answers to questions in areas such as these, further research is needed. The discussion in this chapter presents a different picture from that portrayed in the existing literature regarding the feelings of diasporic Chinese toward their motherland: their sentiments are far from being monolithically allegiant to China. There are three main reasons for this. First, as part of the Western mainstream media, the BBC is not obliged to polish the image of China (Sun 2010a) and falls outside the sphere of control of the CCP. Instead, it operates according to its own news values and moderation criteria. Second, the deterritorializing capacity of the Internet removes geographical limitations, which extends the gathering of like-minded opinions but also leads to tensions and fracture among members of the Chinese diaspora, who may have different opinions about the historic event of June Fourth. Third, the selection of events matters here in terms of cultural memories and feelings toward motherland. For example, the findings would have been different if the study had examined forum users’ narratives of their memories of the traumatic Nanjing Massacre—as is clear from Sun’s (2002: 120) discussion of the Chinese News Digest’s Nanjing Massacre forum (CND.org). Sun points out that the forum revives cultural memories among diasporic Chinese and allows them to share their pain and anger and construct a sense of belonging together. In this way they are “fantasizing the homeland” and the forum thus has the capacity to unite rather than divide them. 144 Jingrong Tong The findings in this study have some implications for China’s soft power practice. Over recent years, the Chinese government has endeavored to polish its international image through the exercise of soft power, thereby seeking to dic- tate the nature and direction of Chinese transnationalism. One strategy has been to encourage China’s state media to “go global”—to collaborate with diasporic Chinese-language media and strike a note of recognition among diasporic Chinese (Sun 2010a). Evidence of this is the fact that Chinese-language media in the Asia-Pacific region have become increasingly dominated by China (Hunter 2009). However, the findings in this paper suggest that the existence of international media outlets such as the BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum, combined with the widespread use of the Internet by diasporic Chinese, may reintroduce elements of dissonance into Chinese transnationalism and have the potential to put criticism of China back onto the agenda, thereby to some extent thwarting China’s global attempts at image management.

Notes 1 For the source of all data and quotes from the BBC’s HYS forum, see the listing of URLs included in Table 7.1. 2 Phrases such as “the day before June Fifth” and “May Thirty-Fifth” have been used to refer to the date of June Fourth. Or words such as, “we use all kinds of methods to remember the day that does not exist in China’s history” have been published on June Fourth to remember the event. In this way, Internet users try to bypass Internet censorship. 3 These websites can be found at the following addresses, respectively: www.bbc.co. uk/zhongwen/simp/ and www.bbc.co.uk/zhongwen/trad/. 4 One is in simpliﬁed Chinese (www.bbc.co.uk/ukchina/simp/), while the other is in traditional Chinese (www.bbc.co.uk/ukchina/trad). 5 The “May Fourth” movement of 1919 was a student-led nationwide campaign that aimed to protect national security and interests. A prominent feature of the campaign was the fact that it advanced the idea of learning from the West, especially in terms of science and democracy, in order to strengthen the nation.

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Shuyu Kong

Introduction The last two decades have seen great changes and developments in the situation of Chinese diasporic cultural production and consumption in Canada. One such change is the rapid growth of Chinese-language media. The post-1989 flood of Chinese students and immigrants, the rapid development of new communication technologies such as satellite television transmission, the Inter- net and other social media, and the support of Canada’s multiculturalism policy have combined to make Chinese-language television and radio programs in Canada arguably “the richest and most sophisticated outside China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan” (Zhou, Chen, and Cai 2006: 66). In this paper, I will first provide an updated survey of the recent development of Chinese media in Canada as a result of several convergent influences, in particular Canada’s multicultural media policy and China’s rise and integration into the global economic system. I will then use the concepts of geo-ethnic media and multicultural communication infrastructure recently developed by media researchers in North America to examine locally produced Mandarin television programs from Talentvision (Chengshi Dianshi), which belongs to the Fairchild Media Group, the only license holder with the right to broadcast Chinese-language television nationwide in Canada. Through these cases, I will explore the complex identity and unique role that ethnic media play in the process of fostering community among immigrants and facilitating information dissemination and social participation. I will conclude by discussing the content changes in Talentvision’s programming and the forms of collaboration between Fairchild Media Group and mainland Chinese media institutions, thus providing empirical evidence that will allow us to assess the implications of China’s rise and its recent media policy of “going global” for the Canadian media environment. There are two reasons for choosing Talentvision as the main subject for this empirical study. First, television broadcasting has been a relatively under- investigated area in diaspora media studies. This is partly because, “in comparison to print media and radio, it is much harder to set up indigenous Chinese- language television networks which meet the viewing needs of various diasporic 148 Shuyu Kong communities” (Sun 2013: 437). However, Talentvision provides a unique case by not only offering nationwide broadcasting networks in both Cantonese and Mandarin but also producing substantial locally oriented television content that caters to Chinese immigrants in Canada. Second, Talentvision’slocal content is a direct result of Canada’s multiculturalism policy, and in particular the ethnic media policy (1985, revised 1999) of the Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC), which states that one-third of the content of Canadian television and radio broadcasts must feature “Cana- dian” stories. Talentvision thus enables us not only to examine the unique social functions and distinctive communication patterns of ethnic media in a multicultural setting but also to assess the significance of Canada’spolicyof multiculturalism in assisting the integration process of immigrants and in creating “a sustainable multicultural communication infrastructure” (Ahadi and Murray 2009: 607). The methodology used in this study is an eclectic one. While I have engaged in monitoring and archival research to look at the media content, programming, and broadcasting patterns, I also interviewed managers, producers, and reporters/editors to find out about operational and survival strategies from the standpoint of editorial practice and production.1 The goal is to provide a location-specific empirical account of the actual working of Chinese-language television in Canada, as distinct from programming originating in immigrants’ home countries (for example, satellite television programs transmitted from China to Canada). Also, since ethnic media represent a very complicated and multifarious set of phenomena, it is important not to over- generalize; instead, we must pay careful attention to individual cases within different ethnic communities in order to draw out the full spectrum of content, functions, and roles of ethnic media. In this way, we can properly evaluate the possibilities and potential that these media open up within the Canadian communication space. Before proceeding to the case study of Talentvision and the Fairchild Media Group, I will first briefly describe the recent development of the Chinese-language diaspora media scene in Canada and the social and cultural context that crystallized these changes.

The changing Chinese-language diaspora media scene in Canada Since the 1990s, the demographic make-up and linguistic structures of Cana- dian society have changed dramatically. According to the most recent Cana- dian census of 2011, Canada was home to about 6,775,800 foreign-born individuals in that year, representing some 20.6 percent of the total population. Between 2006 and 2011, around 1,162,900 foreign-born people immigrated to Canada, and Asia (including the Middle East) was Canada’s largest source of immigrants during that period (Statistics Canada 2011). In particular, China since 1998 has become the leading source country of newcomers to Canada: “Between 1998 and 2008, an estimated 363,760 Chinese nationals Geo-ethnic Storytelling 149 emigrated to Canada, accounting for 14 percent of all new immigrants” (Zhang 2010). One consequence of this boom in Asian immigrants is the growing importance of native languages other than English and French. According to the census, one-fifth of Canada’s population, or nearly 6,630,000 people, spoke a language other than English or French at home in 2011. Among the immigrants whose mother tongue was other than English or French, Chinese languages were the most common mother tongues. In total, Chinese languages were reported by 13.0 percent of the foreign-born population with a single mother tongue (Statistics Canada 2011). In the largest metropolitan areas such as Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver, where most of the new immigrants settled, this trend toward ethnocultural and linguistic diversity is even more noticeable. While 26.9 percent of Metro Vancouver’s population speaks a non-official language at home (Statistics Canada 2006a), the total population with one of the Chinese dialects as its mother tongue experienced the largest increase, over 160,000 since 2001. Two out of three people whose mother tongue is a Chinese dialect arrived in Canada in the last twenty-five years. Nearly three-quarters of Chinese people in Metro Vancouver were born outside Canada, and 45.8 percent of them arrived during the 1990s (Statistics Canada 2006b). Responding to these demographic/linguistic changes and aided by new global media distribution technologies, there have been several new developments in diasporic cultural production and consumption in Canada. One noticeable phenomenon is the exponential growth of ethnic media outlets that aim to satisfy the differing needs of new immigrants. In a recent report on ethnic media in British Columbia produced by researchers from Simon Fraser University, the main findings were that the ethnic media market is not only larger than previously supposed but also growing very quickly. The report located 144 ethnic media outlets in the province of British Columbia (BC), with over two-thirds of the outlets established since the 1990s (Murray, Yu, and Ahadi 2007). Among them, there are currently twenty-four Chinese media outlets, second in number only to Korean media outlets but comprising the biggest ethnic media market in terms of readership and audiences. Sing Tao Daily alone prints between 50,000 and 110,000 copies every day for the BC market, and Fairchild TV and Talentvision together cover two-thirds of Chinese adults in Metro Vancouver who speak Chinese at home (Murray, Yu, and Ahadi 2007: 29).2 As in other immigrant countries, this growth of Chinese-language media in Canada is directly related to the growth of ethnic businesses and the prosperity of the ethnic community economy. Often regarded as “consumer’sguidesto local businesses and services” (Sun 2013: 435), the ethnic media exploit immigrants’ entrepreneurship aspirations and their desire for economic well-being. The economic activities of immigrants and the growing ethnic consumer market provide enormous business opportunities, especially in advertising, for these media outlets, and the temptation to capitalize on these opportunities has in 150 Shuyu Kong turn enticed numerous Chinese immigrants to venture into the media business over the last decade or so. The dominance of Mandarin-speaking immigrants since the late 1980s—a combined result of the 1989 student democratic movement, military conflicts and tensions across the Taiwan Straits, and not least China’s fast rise to economic power and its growing middle class with more opportunities to move overseas—has led to some noticeable changes in the hierarchies within the diasporic Chinese cultural-linguistic market. The most obvious change is the increasing status and proportion of Mandarin Chinese media (including radio and television programs and print media using simplified Chinese characters) catering to recently arrived Mandarin-speaking immigrants. Due to the predominance of Cantonese-speaking Chinese Canadians and the influx of immigrants and foreign capital from Hong Kong in the 1980s and 1990s, Chinese ethnic media were mainly oriented toward a Cantonese-speaking Chinese- Canadian community, with three major newspapers—Canadian editions of Hong Kong’s Sing Tao Daily and Ming Pao Daily and Taiwan’s The World Journal (Shijie Ribao)—and Cantonese television channel Fairchild (established in 1993, after taking over Chinavision) forming the backbone. But in the last decade, all of the “big three” papers increased their coverage of news content about mainland China. These news publishers also set up new weeklies specially tailored to mainland Chinese immigrants, including Canadian Chinese Express (Mingshengbao, established in 2007), from Ming Pao Daily, and City Post (Du Shi Bao, also established in 2007), from Sing Tao Daily. Compared with the dailies, the content and format of these weekly magazines have shifted noticeably to satisfy the reading habits of mainland immigrants and their demand for information pertaining to immigration and integration into Canadian society. Dozens of new newspapers and magazines have also sprouted up since the late 1990s, most of them free weeklies and biweeklies distributed in various shopping malls, public libraries, supermarkets, and grocery stores in metropolitan areas. Among the most successful are Global Chinese Times (Huanqiu Huabao, established in 2000) and Dawa Business Press (Dahua Shangba, established in 2001). In fact, by 2005 there were nearly sixty newspapers and magazines, ten radio stations, half a dozen television channels, and over a hundred Internet websites serving Chinese communities in Canada (Xu and Huang 2005), and they dedicate their space mainly to information and services “pertaining to trade, commerce, and business personalities, activities and networks” (Sun 2013: 435) within the community. In electronic broadcasting, an even more paradigmatic change has been taking place since the 1990s. Taking the recent development of Chinese-language television in BC as an example, besides Chinese (Mandarin and Cantonese) programs on public service channels such as the Shaw Multicultural Channel, the privately owned Fairchild Media Group started to deliver a full range of Chinese-language television programming services through its two national networks, with Cantonese Fairchild Television (XinShidaiDianshi) established in 1993, and Mandarin Talentvision established in 1998.3 These networks are Geo-ethnic Storytelling 151 delivered via all the major cable and telecommunication firms, such as Rogers, Delta, Shaw, Bell, and Telus, seven days a week, twenty-hours a day. In 2003, another multilingual television station, Channel M, now called OMNI and acquired by Rogers Media, was established, delivering a significant proportion of locally produced Mandarin and Cantonese news and imported entertainment programs. Besides these licensed multicultural television stations, there are also local television production companies that utilize new digital technologies and investment from recent immigrants to produce programs for local audiences. One such example is the Internet-based television station Huayu NetTV, which started a new model of content delivery by integrating television production and broadcasting with print media (Dawa Business News) and the Internet (Kong 2013). The local television broadcasting environment is further enriched by Chinese-language television programs received through satellite, cable, and more recently Internet Protocol television (IPTV) broadcasting, through which programs from various regions of “Greater China” (i.e. mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan) can be accessed simultaneously without relay (Huang 2008; Wong 2009; Zhu 2008). Consumption of these various media products has become central to the daily lives and cultural activities of Chinese Canadians, especially the huge proportion of new immigrants. According to one survey, television broadcasting has the lion’s share of the media market. Of the top five Chinese media vehicles, three are television channels—Fairchild, Talentvision, and Channel M—with 55 percent of Chinese adults in Greater Vancouver who speak Chinese at home watching Fairchild every week and 49 percent watching Talentvision (Ipsos Reid 2007). One important characteristic that should be noted is the heterogeneity and complex hierarchy of the ethnic cultural market and its evolving nature. Chinese immigrants are far from a homogeneous group and their educational and linguistic backgrounds, socioeconomic status, and cultural customs have divided them into many sub-ethnic groups under the umbrella of Chinese Canadians. This stratified heterogeneity is also reflected in media production and consumption. Besides the example mentioned above of the surging print media market for mainland immigrants in recent years, the most obvious illustration is the separate strands of Mandarin and Cantonese broadcasting channels, as represented by Fairchild’s Cantonese television network and Talentvision. Yet even within the single channel of Talentvision (which is entirely in Mandarin), there is also competition for resources and audiences, and some subtle balancing has to be performed in terms of programming choices. For example, the daily news programs on Talentvision not only feature locally produced evening news centered on Canada (one hour, twice a day) but also include mainland China News (from CCTV-4) and Taiwanese news (from China Television Company— CTV), each lasting half an hour and broadcast three times a day. Thus, the different strands of media sources and the interfaces among them within Vancou- ver’s Chinese diasporic mediascape create a manifold, sometimes contested, communicative network of interlocking spaces and heterogeneous voices. 152 Shuyu Kong Geo-ethnic storytelling: locally produced programs from Talentvision While the above survey of the changing diaspora media scene in the last two decades indicates the impact of changing demographic and linguistic conditions in Canada and the influence of media globalization, the development of Chinese-language media in Canada is also directly related to the national policy of multiculturalism. Canada’s multiculturalism policy, especially the CRTC’s ethnic media policy, not only encourages the production and consumption of ethnic language media, but also directly regulates or guides the content of ethnic media, especially broadcast media.4 In this section I will use the concepts of the geo-ethnic media and multicultural communication infrastructure to explore the unique role of ethnic media in a consciously multicultural immigrant society, with reference to the locally produced programs of Talentvision. First developed by the research team of the Metamorphosis Project based in Los Angeles, the concept of geo-ethnic media—media that “are both ethnically and geographically specific in their focus and content” (Matsaganis, Katz, and Ball-Rokeach 2011: 208)—emphasizes the specific location of ethnic media and their local community orientation. This concept is very useful in helping us to analyze how ethnic media “actually exist” and thus to more fully assess their social capacity. Similarly, researchers at Simon Fraser University in Canada propose a “multicultural communication infrastructure” model based on their study of ethnic media in British Columbia (Murray, Yu, and Ahadi 2007), which also highlights the local content and social capacity of ethnic media produced in Canada and the impact and potential they have for engaging new immigrants in community belonging and civic engagement. According to this model, “access to a supportive communication infrastructure in their own language of origin is crucial for individual immigrants to build their sense of orientation and belonging in the receiving society” (Ahadi and Murray 2009: 589). The concepts of geo-ethnic media and the multicultural communication infrastructure represent an approach that emphasizes the interaction between ethnicity and location in studying the production and consumption of ethnic media and the social capacity of such media outlets in community and nation building. Such an approach is particularly effective in studying the highly diversified ethnic media landscape in Canada because it distinguishes ethnic media programs that are produced in Canada, with their substantial Cana- dian content, from those originating in immigrants’ home countries (for example, satellite television programs from China transmitted to Canada). The sources and content of ethnic Chinese television in Canada can be roughly divided into two streams: imported, and locally produced. Certainly, with the rapid development of new communications technologies (such as satellite television transmission and the Internet) and the increasingly transnational media flows and globalization of cultural products, a substantial portion of Metro Vancouver’s Chinese media content is imported, coming directly from production centers in Greater China. Taking Talentvision as an Geo-ethnic Storytelling 153 example, roughly two-thirds of its programs are from various foreign media sources such as Television Broadcasts Limited (TVB) in Hong Kong; Television Broadcasts Satellite (TVBS) and CTV in Taiwan; and China Central Television Overseas (CCTV-4), Beijing Television (BTV), and other provincial television stations in mainland China. But the proportions and origins of these imported programs have obviously evolved through the years, in response to the changing dynamics within Metro Vancouver’s Chinese community, a highly heterogeneous group with a range of different regional, cultural, and linguistic backgrounds, as well as the evolving local producers’ relationships with Chinese, Taiwanese, and Hong Kong media industries. For example, the imported programs from mainland China and Taiwan were roughly equal in number when Talentvision first started in 1998, but by 2005 the imported programs from mainland China had increased from 40 to 60 percent. The news content from Taiwan and mainland China has followed a similar trend, and entertainment and reality shows, previously dominated by Taiwanese shows, are gradually being taken over by those from mainland China’s provincial satellite television stations. As for television dramas, 80 percent are now from mainland China (Jerry Huang, pers. comm., 2013). Dominant among the imported programs are news and various entertainment shows, television dramas, and “cultural” programs including travel, Chinese history, (Chinese) language education, and traditional Chinese medicine. Importing such programs obviously makes sense from an economic or business perspective. But it is also a response to the cultural demands of the Chinese diaspora community, an increasingly mobile population with “flexible citizenship” (Ong 1999). This was especially true in the early years of Fairchild and Talentvision, when digital packages and satellite dishes were either unavailable or difficult to install. Selling content to local ethnic Chinese broadcasters has also been an important platform for foreign media firms to enter the Canadian market, including TVB (Ma 1999) and CCTV.5 Extensive television coverage of the viewers’ place of origin, whether it is mainland China, Hong Kong, or Taiwan, is both culturally consoling and a useful source of practical information for Chinese immigrants and their families, who constitute a large proportion of the transnational population and frequently shuttle back and forth between their two homes. But it is the locally produced programs that really distinguish Chinese- language television channels in Canada and reveal their unique role and identity. The CRTC’s local content requirement states that one-third of the content of Canadian television and radio broadcasts must feature “Canadian” stories. In order to keep their broadcasting licenses, Fairchild TV and Talentvision each deliver over 31.5 percent (rising to 33 percent in prime time) of their content in the form of various Canadian-produced programs in Chinese, including national and community news, lifestyle magazines, entertainment guides, and (English) language education programs. In the case of Talentvision’s locally produced programs, news programs including the Daily Evening News and other news forums or current affairs 154 Shuyu Kong magazines are especially worth examining, as the values expressed in news and current affairs programs clearly reflect the cultural identity of the ethnic media. The anchor news program from Talentvision is its one-hour Daily Evening News (Wanjian Xinwen), rerun the next morning under the title Canadian Headlines (Jiaguo Yaowen). It includes segments on headline news (yaowen), western Canadian news (jiaxi xinwen), eastern Canadian news (jiadong xinwen), and mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan news (Zhong Gang Tai xinwen). The sources of news items include edited translations from mainstream Canadian non-Chinese television networks (such as Global Television Network, CTV Television Network,6 and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC),7 Talentvision’s own reporting, and some imported news feeds (CCTV, and Taiwan’s TVBS and CTV), but the news items are carefully chosen to appeal to the perspectives of local Chinese Canadians, and they differ from both English-language and Greater China news programs.8 Consequently, these locally produced news programs provide an important intersection between different communicative spaces, while at the same time responding effectively to the more local and immediate needs of diasporic audiences. For example, the news format and coverage across the country helps the audience become aware of a national Canadian identity on a daily basis. At the same time, Commu- nity News and Events Announcements (Shetuan Jianxun), the program that precedes the national news, directly addresses local community needs and functions as its bulletin board. Besides daily news, Talentvision also runs several weekly current affairs and news forums, including Canadian Weekly News Roundup (Jianada Xinwen Zhouji), Magazine 26 (Ershiliu Fenzhong Jianzheng Shilu), My Country, My Family (Jiaguo Zongheng), and Straits Today (Liang’an Sandi Jiaguoqing). First broadcast in July 1998, Straits Today is a weekly news forum mainly discussing issues relevant to the relationship between Canada, mainland China, and Taiwan, and the likely future of Taiwan.9 Over the seventeen or so years that it has been broadcast, Straits Today has grown into an influential program and gained a solid and enthusiastic viewing audience. Through close qualitative research in which I monitored and analyzed episodes of this program during an eight-week period from the beginning of March to the end of April 2008, supplemented by a quantitative survey of a hundred episodes of Straits Today from the period 2007 to 2008, I found a consistent dual geographical and topical focus, with more or less equal attention to current affairs taking place in Canada and Greater China. With the Canadian topics, national and political issues dominated, and other issues of public concern to ethnic viewers, especially those related to immigration, have been frequently chosen for debate. The show’s emphasis on civil culture is particularly reflected in the number of topics related to the federal election in 2008, which comprised one-eighth of the topics for the whole year. The topics covered many different aspects of the election, not only introducing the different parties and their candidates but also comparing their different approaches to diplomatic and international relations, environmental issues, and social welfare. In terms of Geo-ethnic Storytelling 155 Chinese and Taiwanese affairs, equal attention was given to the two regions respectively, and there was also a recurring discussion on their mutual relationship. Episodes often take the perspective of a “third party” and seek to provide a forum on the Taiwan/China relationship that transcends either side’s political position. While the forum reflects a Chinese-Canadian perspective in discussing current Canadian affairs, it also conveys awareness of transnational Chinese identity through featuring events that have captured the interest of the overseas Chinese community (Kong 2013). The public forum aspect of current affairs talk shows has also been consciously cultivated through the years, and audience involvement is a major attraction of the program. Through the mechanisms of telephone call-in and expert guests, these programs encourage, engage, and facilitate the viewers to enter the public debate on Canadian and international public affairs and become actively involved in Canadian civil society through a specific mediated position. This was most evident in Talentvision’s engaging programs during various election periods. Clearly, because “ethnic media … undertake significant citizenship education by delivering step-by-step ‘how to’ information … to immigrants who are less familiar with the Canadian political system to assist them in exercising voting rights” (Yu and Ahadi 2010: 54), they have become an important venue for political parties and politicians during election periods, so much so that many of them take the initiative to advertise or present themselves on these media networks. Just as important, by inviting expert guests from a variety of different professional and academic backgrounds to comment on and interpret many public issues, these programs encourage new immigrants to acculturate and adapt, to learn about civil and political culture, and to build bridges between their local Chinese communities and mainstream Canadian society. Programs such as Straits Today show a conscious and consistent effort not only to provide useful information that helps Chinese immigrants adjust to a new environment and integrate into Canadian society, but also to help them understand and practice the privileges and responsibilities inherent in Cana- dian citizenship. In this way, Chinese-language media have played an active and unique role in representing multicultural citizenship as well as nurturing an alternative communicative space and public sphere (Kong 2013). Besides fostering civic culture in Chinese communities, locally produced programs from Talentvision also include various kinds of informational and aspirational content to help new immigrants settle and integrate into their new environment and become involved in local cultural life. Lifestyle magazine programs, such as the seminars on taxation, retirement funds, investment, and child education on Experts Talk (Zhuanjia Lai Kaijing), entertainment news and cultural activity guides such as City View (Chengshi Dashijie), and English programs such as Everyday English (Zai Jia Xue Yingyu)offer much-needed practical information and services to community audiences. And partly due to its own commercial imperative as an ethnic business profiting mainly from advertising revenues, Talentvision actively plays the role of a network 156 Shuyu Kong facilitator and business leader within the Canadian Chinese business community. It is the main promotional/advertising venue for all kinds of commercial activities and community businesses related to immigration and settling in Canada, and the most frequent kinds of advertisements featured on Talentvision are agencies for immigration and study in Canada, immigrant career or financial planning consultants, various high school and pre-college courses for international students, real estate agencies, health supplement shops, and various services aimed at rich immigrants and tourists, such as beauty spas and wine cellars. For the Fairchild Media Group, developing special relationships with ethnic businesses in the community is an important strategy for its own survival and growth (Kong, forthcoming). Their efforts are best demonstrated by Talentvision’s brand program Mandarin Profiles (Xinfengcai), a half-hour weekly lifestyle magazine program that features the lives and business ventures (chuangye) of immigrants from mainland China. Based on the people-focused television magazine genre that is popular in mainland Chinese media, Mandarin Profiles combines on-site interview with biographical documentary. Each week the column features the stories of two or three successful immigrants recounting their aspirations, dreams, experiences, and achievements in entrepreneurship. Since the interviews are mostly conducted in offices, shops, or other workplaces, those businesses’ services or products also get good exposure. The typical geo-ethnic storytelling of Mandarin Profiles has proven to be a win-win formula. On the one hand, these stories provide examples, ideas, and even networking opportunities for immigrants who aspire to set up their own businesses in this new community. On the other hand, the stories also serve as advertisements for the profiled businesses within the Chinese-Canadian community, and in turn they create a constant source of business opportunities as well as social/cultural capital for the Fairchild Media Group itself. Since one major appeal of the program is to give recognition to the featured immigrant entrepreneurs within the Chinese-Canadian community—a community that values personal reputation and achievement as much as business profits and potential markets—from 2008 Fairchild initiated an annual “Mandarin Profiles Awards Presentation Ceremony” (Xinfengcai Chuangye Banjiang Dianli)tofur- ther consolidate its leadership in this niche market and exploit the media’s capacity to confer power and status within the community. Taking place in a theatre in Richmond Hill, a newly prosperous Toronto suburb populated largely by Asian immigrants, the ceremony itself is a combination of Hollywood’s Academy Awards with a typical Chinese television gala show: it opens with speeches and congratulations from federal, provincial, and municipal officials, followed by a showcase of the nominees on a large screen. Awards are then announced and handed out by celebrities and community business leaders, often the major sponsors of the event. The winners from half a dozen different categories give their acceptance speeches in excitement, interspersed with lively performances of Chinese dancing, singing, and other entertainments. Such a program, with its associated annual gala event, shines a bright light on the role of the Fairchild Media Group as a community business advocate Geo-ethnic Storytelling 157 and community builder, smoothing its relationship with the business community and building new connections with sponsors from both mainstream Canadian society, such as the Bank of Montreal, and the local Chinese-Canadian community. Mandarin Profiles thus illuminates the mutual reliance between ethnic media networks and the diasporic Chinese business community and exemplifies how ethnic media utilize Chinese resources and exploit the mentality of upward mobility among Chinese immigrants to build a successful ethnic business model.

China’s soft power push and its effect on ethnic Chinese media in Canada When commenting on the effect of China’s recent rise and its “going global” policy on the diasporic community and ethnic media overseas, Wanning Sun observes that “in the media and communications sector, the state space of the PRC has clearly spilled over the territorial border to overlap with the transnational space of the diaspora” (Sun 2013: 437). I touched on some of this effect on ethnic Chinese media in Canada when I discussed the recent changes to content in both print media and broadcasting and a subtle re-balancing of the hierarchy between mainland and other Chinese groups in the ethnic media structure, even though the producers of this content may still be largely motivated by commercial interests rather than political considerations. In the rest of this chapter, using the Fairchild Media Group as an example, I will further examine the role that ethnic media play in China’s internationalization and the new forms of connection, collaboration, and partnership forged between Chinese diasporic media and state-controlled Chinese media at several different levels, including the importation of programs, organizational partnerships, and collaboration in producing programs and hosting media events. As early as February 1998, the Fairchild Media Group signed an agreement with CCTV that permitted Fairchild and Talentvision to broadcast CCTV-4’s programs (except television dramas) free of charge. At that time, CCTV’spro- grams were delivered in North America mainly through satellite transmission (Wong 2009). Due to CRTC regulations protecting the local media and cultural industry that forbade television networks outside Canada from delivering content through the cable system, this satellite transmission was only received by the limited number of viewers who had satellite dishes. It was not until 2004 that CCTV’s nine-channel Great Wall cable television package was launched in North America, and only in 2007 did a Canadian cable provider, Rogers, include this package as an option in their digital service, thus allowing Canadian cable television audiences direct access to these programs for a subscription fee. Prior to this, therefore, Talentvision served as a crucial platform for CCTV’s local penetration of the Canadian Chinese market. A similar story applies to other provincial Chinese television stations. For instance, BTV and Fairchild launched their collaboration in the late 1990s with a BTV Week designed to showcase the variety of BTV programs then available on Talentvision. From 1999, programs from BTV such as Window 158 Shuyu Kong onto Beijing (Beijing Zhi Chuang)andBeijing Perspective (Beijing Shidian)have been allotted fixed time slots in Talentvision’s program schedule. Other provincial television stations followed suit, including stations in Anhui, Guangxi, Zhejiang, Hebei, Guangdong, Shenzhen, Henan, Liaoning, and Shandong. They signed partnership agreements or memoranda of understanding to engage in exchanges, offer free programs, and provide technological cooperation. In the early stages, the exchange or supply of programs was part of China’s external propaganda (duiwai xuanchuan) and rarely required financial remu- neration, which for Fairchild was a strong enough motivation for “collaboration.” The programs chosen by Fairchild were mainly “cultural” or entertainment programs, with many of them, such as Today Anhui (Jinri Anhui), Inside Zhejiang (Faxian Zhejiang), and China Liaoning (Zhongguo Liaoning) aimed at promoting regional attractions—such as natural scenery, local Chinese folklore, food culture, and new urban developments—to whet the appetite of foreign investors and tourists. However, with the accelerated commercialization of the Chinese media industry in recent years, new models of collaboration have emerged. The more aggressive provincial satellite television stations, such as Hunan Satellite Television and Jiangsu Satellite Tele- vision, started to demand revenues from the overseas sale of their highly successful domestic entertainment programs and television series. As a result, in the past few years Fairchild has purchased some of the most talked about Chinese television dramas and entertainment shows to satisfy the viewing habits of new mainland immigrants and young Chinese students in Canada. These include the hit dating show If You Are the One (Feichengwurao, JSTV), the game show Up and Up, Day by Day (Tiantian Xiangshang, HSTV), and many controversial drama series, ranging from March toward the Republic (Zouxiang Gonghe)toNarrow Dwelling (Woju). The most persistent and fruitful of the collaborations Fairchild has had with mainland Chinese media firms is that with Shanghai Media Group (Shanghai Wenguang Jituan; hereafter SMG). In October 1999, a delegation led by the director of Shanghai Television Station visited Canada and signed a memorandum of understanding with the Fairchild Media Group. The following year, Shanghai TV Week (Shanghai Dianshi Zhou) was launched on Talent- vision, with four hours of programs from Shanghai Television broadcast on Talentvision every day. From then until 2008, Shanghai TV Week became an annual event at Talentvision. In 2008, SMG and Fairchild collaborated in producing a Chinese New Year gala called Blessings from across the Pacific (Feiyue Taipingyang De Zhufu). Staged in Vancouver and relayed to Shanghai, the all-star show included performers from Hong Kong, Taiwan, mainland China, and Canada. The most successful collaboration between these two firms took place during the Shanghai Expo period in 2010. Previously, Talentvision had been active in staging live media coverage of important political and social events throughout Greater China, including the handover of Hong Kong in 1997 and Macao in 1999 and the successful launch in 2003 of China’s first manned Geo-ethnic Storytelling 159 mission in the Shenzhou spaceflight initiative; but Fairchild’s role was limited to that of content transmitter during these media events. By contrast, the collaboration became much more interactive and extensive with the Shanghai Expo and manifested itself at many different levels. First, Fairchild and SMG staged a collaborative event in 2009 to mark the start of a one-year countdown to the Expo, including a gala night with the theme of “World Expo Friendship” (Shibo qingyi zhongyi wanhui) and a twin-city dialogue on the Expo via satellite. The former event was held at the Center for Performing Arts in Vancouver, featuring well-known Canadian and Chinese artists and local politicians such as BC premier Gordon Campbell, the federal minister of immigration and multiculturalism, and several Canadian senators and provincial members of the legislative assembly, as well as the Chinese consul general. The latter event was a joint panel discussion between Vancouver and Shanghai on the theme of “Better City, Better Life,” with guests including Vancouver mayor Gregor Robertson, the director of the Shanghai Expo Bureau, and half a dozen engineers, architects, city planners, and musicians, who shared their experience of Vancouver’s 1986 Expo. This event was the first stop in Shanghai’s promotional tour around the world, and here Fair- child acted as an important liaison and promotional platform by organizing entertainment shows and reports. At the same time, Fairchild provided Van- couver’s mayor with an opportunity to promote the upcoming Vancouver Winter Olympics to the local Chinese community and to Chinese viewers back in China. In the days leading up to the Shanghai Expo in May 2010, Fairchild and Talentvision broadcast several regular programs provided by SMG that introduced the history and culture of the World Expo, including Creative Expo (Chuangyi Shibo)andExpo is Coming (Quanjing Shibo). Finally, in the two weeks of the Shanghai Expo itself, a series of half-hour special reports from two Talentvision reporters who went to Shanghai to report on the event “from a Canadian-Chinese perspective” (Shibo fengqing) were broadcast on four consecutive Sunday evenings in July 2010, on top of the regular coverage during the daily evening news. Clearly, this presentation of the Shanghai Expo through a Canadian lens facilitated by SMG helped to promote the agenda of the Shanghai government to showcase the city’s attractions and raised the profile of SMG in Canada. At the same time, it allowed Fairchild and Talentvision exclusive access to Expo-related content produced in Shanghai, which would doubtless have appealed to their Chinese viewers in Canada. Despite occasional successful collaborative events, such as that with SMG, overall the extent of collaboration between Canadian Chinese ethnic television and Chinese media remains limited,10 and there is little evidence of growing ideological influence of mainland media on ethnic and diasporic media. As a commercial television network based in Canada, Fairchild has little motivation to engage in propaganda on behalf of Chinese nationalism or to identify exclusively with mainland Chinese political standpoints. In fact, Fairchild has been careful to steer clear of explicit ideological content in the 160 Shuyu Kong programs related to mainland China that it imports and produces. Fairchild’s producers emphasize that they have absolute control in choosing which kinds of program to import and which programs to broadcast, even when they are provided by the Chinese side. Mostly they import entertainment shows, cultural and educational programs, and television dramas. In these categories, they tend to choose programs with the least connection to mainland Chinese ideology and the biggest appeal to popular taste. The heterogeneity of Canadian Chinese communities and their varied regional and ideological stances is another element that encourages Fairchild’s producers to “keep the balance” or “maintain objectivity.” To maximize the number of subscribers, Fairchild is very careful not to provoke the ire of any subgroup, even if its programs have been adjusted to better entice more mainland Chinese viewers in recent years. Finally, there is also the CRTC, which monitors the industry through its license control and regulations. Indeed, it can be risky for Fairchild to rely too much on CCTV sources. For example, in 2001, Talentvision’s evening news relayed a CCTV report that was critical of the religious sect Falun Gong, and some viewers subsequently complained to the CRTC; this led to an investigation and a warning decision that found against Talentvision for its carriage of a CCTV news item unfavorable in its portrayal of Falun Gong. After that, Talentvision became even more careful to maintain its “objectivity” and avoid such political controversies (Louie Tong, pers. comm., 2013). It is still too early to predict whether Canadian fears about Chinese ideological influence from imported media products are justified. But two emerging factors have undoubtedly already shifted the dynamics of ethnic Chinese media in Canada and reshaped their relationship with Greater China. One is the growing proportion of media content from mainland China that is appearing in diasporic media. The other is the increasing number of mainland-trained media practitioners working in the Canadian Chinese media industry, a reminder of those media practitioners from Hong Kong twenty years earlier. While one might argue that their mainland perspective could lead to some kind of “ideological penetration,” one should also take care not to treat immigrants from mainland China as a monolithic whole with a single ideology. In fact, many diasporic media firms and media practitioners, including those formerly trained in mainland China, can be highly critical of the Chinese Party-state, and the relatively open and tolerant media environment in Canada, with its great variety of media sources and outlets, also leaves plenty of space for audiences/consumers to choose, compare opinions, and judge for themselves.

Conclusion As I have demonstrated above, the recent development of Chinese-language television in Canada is shaped by a combination of factors, including the increasing flows of Asian immigrants and students (especially from mainland China), the thriving ethnic businesses in Chinese-Canadian communities, the increasingly pervasive presence of satellite television and other emerging Geo-ethnic Storytelling 161 forms of digital deterritorialized technology, and not least China’s recent rise and its push to promote its soft power reach overseas. The Canadian multiculturalism broadcasting policy has also played a pivotal role in developing a professional and responsible ethnic Chinese media. The CRTC has not only licensed over-the-air ethnic television stations such as Fairchild, Talentvision, OMNI, and CJNT-DT (Montreal), but since 2005 it has also opened up the market for more offshore Chinese-language television channels, which are offered by local cable and satellite providers as part of their value-added bundles. At the same time, the CRTC’s policy of promoting Canadian content has directly and effectively geared Chinese-language television production to include local programming, thus creating the potential for ethnic media to play an integrative role in acculturation and citizenship education. My study of Chinese-language television programs also points to the various functions and possibilities for ethnic media under a multicultural policy. The focused analysis of Talentvision investigates a relatively small, but indicative, portion of the locally produced Chinese-language media content in Canada that explicitly addresses the specific concerns, needs, and aspirations of Chinese ethnic groups in Canada. By engaging in geo-ethnic storytelling, Chinese-language media in Canada “produce culturally relevant, locally focused content for their audience that encourages residents to connect with community resources, organizations, and each other” (Matsaganis, Katz, and Ball-Rokeach 2011: 208). They provide information and resources for new immigrants to settle in a new place, organize community events, and facilitate various social and cultural networks. They also engage in citizenship education, promoting civic responsibilities, and encouraging public discourse. Chinese ethnic media thus provide a valuable alternative public space for Chinese Cana- dians to express their commitment to multicultural citizenship and enable them to exercise their in-group rights more effectively in a multicultural communicative space. Chinese Canadians, and especially new Chinese immigrants, are marginalized in consuming mainstream media (either English or French) for various cultural or linguistic reasons, and consequently their involvement and participation in mainstream media and social activities conducted in the two official languages is low. Considering this fact, the ethnic Chinese media play a unique role in new immigrants’ communicative experiences and adaptation processes. Of course, new communication technologies, together with accelerated media globalization and the rise of China’s soft power aspirations, have also shaped Chinese-language television in Canada, and the networks inevitably maintain a dualistic, transnational perspective. China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan provide major media resources for the daily international news and various cultural programs on these multicultural and community channels. Consequently, the other key role of ethnic media in Canada is as a vehicle for the internationalization of Chinese media, reflecting the emergence of a global Chinese linguistic-cultural market that “complicates the global cultural flows and power dynamics” (Zhu 2008: 101). 162 Shuyu Kong With increasing globalization, new forms of mobility and “flexible citizenship” are beginning to develop in global cities and multicultural societies, where immigrants are shaping the demographic constitution. Diasporic media such as Talentvision not only provide consolation to these floating lives through satisfying their cultural needs in the traditional sense, but also actively encourage and promote a “multilocal sense of belonging” (Cheng 2005) and transnational group identities in an increasingly connected world. In this way, “local ethnic media … represent for migrants a means of maintaining and tightening links with their own culture, while mediating their integration and recognition within the host country” (Murray, Yu, and Ahadi 2007: 122). The multiple strands of media sources, the complicated dynamics among different communicative spaces, and the translocal nature of Chinese-language television in Canada that cuts across national boundaries together comprise a fine example of the multiple identities and complex functions of ethnic media, which provide “fresh insights into the … cultural multi-belongings and spatial interdependencies” (Fleras 2011: 239) of media and community in a multicultural society under the new conditions of globalization.

Notes 1 I wish to thank Louie Tong, vice president of Fairchild Media, Jerry Huang, program director of Talentvision, and Todd Ye, news director for News Talentvision, for kindly giving their time for a number of interviews—especially Mr. Huang, who generously met my requests a couple of times, shared his experiences, and carefully preserved files for me. These interviews took place as follows: Louie Tong, September 27, 2013; Jerry Huang, September 27, 2013, and November 8, 2013; and Todd Ye, November 8, 2013. 2 Some of the data “cited” in Murray’s report are taken directly from the Chinese media’s own surveys or claims—many of them are obviously produced for commercial purposes, and are not clearly defined. Regarding the total coverage of Fairchild TV and Talentvision, instead of using Murray’s data, which cites the Chinese Media Habit Study 2005 Highlights (by the Fairchild Media Group), and claims that the two networks cover 88 percent of the Chinese population in Vancou- ver, I conclude that a two-thirds daily reach is closer to reality. This combines results from two independent surveys: ACNielsen (2000) (with Fairchild’s coverage at 47.6 percent, and Talentvision’s coverage at 20.0 percent, based on 218,000 Chinese adults in the Vancouver metropolitan area who speak Chinese at home); and Ipsos Reid (2007) (with Fairchild at 39 percent and Talentvision at 29 percent, based on 600 Chinese and first-generation Chinese Canadians 18+ who speak Chinese at home). 3 For a detailed history of Fairchild and Talentvision and their places in the broader framework of ethnic television in Canada, see Hayward (2012). 4 For a detailed explanation of CRTC’s broadcasting policies and their effects on Canadian television practices, refer to Roth (1998). 5 According to Eric Ma, TVB has been actively expanding in overseas markets since the early 1980s, partly due to the less favorable financial conditions in a highly competitive television environment in 1980s Hong Kong. This expansion includes exporting video programs as well as having TVB programs broadcast by overseas TV stations that are often TVB-owned subsidiaries (Ma 1999: 39–40). Indeed, in the early 1990s, TVB formed a joint venture with Thomas Fung’s Fairchild Media Geo-ethnic Storytelling 163 and took over Chinavision, thus creating Fairchild TV, of which the majority of imported programs were from TVB. This relationship extends to Talentvision too, where the imported programs from Taiwan are mainly provided by TVBS, a subsidiary of TVB in Taiwan. 6 Canada’s CTV Television Network is not to be confused with the Taiwanese television station, CTV. 7 Fairchild has agreements with major mainstream broadcasting organizations such as Global and CBC in sharing news (Louie Tong, pers. comm., 2013). 8 Space doesn’t allow me to give detailed content analysis of the Daily News Program here. For those interested in reading more about the unique Chinese Canadian focus and perspective on the news, see Kong (2013). 9 Originally started as Liang’an Jintian (Straits Today), the program changed its name to Liang’an Sandi Jiaguoqing (Cross Straits, Three Regions, Canadian Hearts), which includes Canada, thereby better reflecting its broader multinational focus. 10 Louie Tong from Fairchild gave the following reasons for the limited collaboration: first, there are two different groups of audiences with different demands; and second, there are frequent changes of personnel and sometimes policies on the Chinese side, which makes consistent collaboration impossible (pers. comm., 2013).

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Manying Ip and Hang Yin

Introduction The Chinese cybersphere is the world’s second largest in terms of the number of users, and arguably one of the most active. In June 2013 there were 591 million Internet users in China; the Internet penetration rate is 44.1 percent, and the total number of registered websites reached 2.94 million (CNNIC 2013). “Cyber China” denotes the computer-mediated relational space in which the Chinese script is the main language for communication. The aim of this chapter is to explore the potent power of Cyber China. We posit that much of its content as well as the media agenda it follows are set within China, and that the diasporic communities of overseas Chinese are greatly influenced by it, no matter how geographically far-flung these are—like New Zealand’s Chinese community. The Internet has opened up a borderless and tailor-made “social field” (Levitt and Glick-Schiller 2007; Portes 1996) to contemporary transnational migrants. Historically, Chinese migrants tended to be a group of exiles prone to separation and homesickness. In modern times, migrants are presented with an unprecedented array of easily accessible online cultural products including homeland news, familiar consumer merchandise, regular entertainment, and pertinent blogs on topical issues. Social networking sites and Instant Messaging (IM) have rendered contacts with friends and family both interactive and immediate. The cultural world of migrants, which used to be geographically constricted, is now media-saturated (Georgiou 2006). This chapter examines the multi-local identities of such transnational new migrants and how the use of the Chinese-language Internet accentuates/ sharpens their transnational identity. This transnational identity is a work in progress, an emerging new identity of being both here and there simultaneously, an identity that exists in blurred boundaries and merged areas of interest where solidarity with co-ethnics both in China and elsewhere in the Chinese Internet world can be nurtured. Vanessa Fong uses the phrase “Chinese zones of cultural intimacy” (Fong 2007: 534) to describe the characteristic of the Chinese Internet as a special virtual community. This chapter will take a fresh research angle and seek a more nuanced understanding of how the Internet has transformed diasporic identity. The migrants’ evolving dual relationship with 166 Manying Ip and Hang Yin the homeland and host country, examined through a study of the cyber behavior and Internet discourse of Chinese netizens in New Zealand, will throw much light on the identity construction of transnational Chinese migrants. We argue that the Internet as a “transnational social field” offers “transmigrants” a parallel space that transcends time zones and geographical distances. The Internet allows migrants to become multi-local, enabling them to manage and mirror their physical mobility in a globalized world. Simultaneously, their diasporic identity is shaped by the use of the Internet as a daily routine, by the new images presented and the old memories reconstructed, and more mundanely, by the very act of regularly getting online. We would further argue that by visiting the Chinese-language cyberspace, the transnational netizen is signing into a private special group where their co-ethnics are active. Since Cyber China is ring-fenced and protected by rather high barriers of language competence, the netizens who frequent this space are well aware that only those with native fluency are likely to be privy to their discourse and activities. Within this space, for the in-group, a strong sense of solidarity among “us” against “others” is likely to flourish. Ever since history saw the migration of the Chinese overseas, local Chinese populations have been creating hybrid cultures, on the one hand preserving homeland habits and beliefs, while on the other hand negotiating and rein- venting new cultural identities that incorporate their new host country reali- ties. How have New Zealand’s new Chinese immigrants used the Internet in the construction of their identities, both as individuals and particularly as a group? How has the Internet shaped their imagination of their homeland? Cyber China offers cultural images of China and in democratic countries gives netizens a chance to redefine their Chinese identity within a transnational context (Chan 2006: 2; Sun 2005: 66). The various images in Cyber China simultaneously challenge and reinforce transnational netizens’ perceptions and understanding of what it means to be Chinese. In this chapter, we define Cyber China as consisting of different entities: the homeland media, host country ethnic media, and media of other diasporic communities. In recent years, this shared digital realm has become increasingly dominated by the homeland media of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) via both agenda setting and the sheer volume of news items engendered. In comparison, the local ethnic media seem to have been shrinking in importance in terms of providing independent viewpoints. This might be inevitable given the limited resources available to small overseas Chinese communities, in terms of both trained journalists and financial backing. We shall see whether this tilting of the relational balance between the center and the diasporic is borne out in the New Zealand situation.

Current New Zealand Chinese communities and their media New Zealand has seen its Chinese population grow rapidly from just below 20,000 the late 1990s to 171,411 in 2013 (Statistics New Zealand 2014), and it The Case of New Zealand 167 is still growing at an accelerating rate. The PRC has become a major immigrant source country, accounting for almost 9 percent of New Zealand’s overseas-born usual residents.1 Because of their numerical strength, PRC migrants have dominated both the Chinese-language print media and the Internet ever since the new millen- nium dawned. In terms of selection of news items and focus of interest, mainland China looms large on the New Zealand horizon. This is especially true when we consider the Chinese Internet. The official stance of the Chinese government and the prevalent attitudes of Chinese netizens, as manifested in many of their postings, are often closely aligned. Studies have noted the uni- formity of new migrant media. Pál Nyíri noted in his study of state discourses and public narratives of identity in Hungarian Chinese media that “new migrant media share a remarkably standard content, style, and layout … . The papers continually reproduce the Chinese/foreign dichotomy and re-‘other’ the foreign, while both categories are geographically global and parallel” (Nyíri 2001: 640). Nyíri likens the reading of various new migrant newspapers in different destination countries to the experience of moving from a McDonald’s in Budapest to a McDonald’s in Tokyo: the setup and products are remarkably similar. The influence of “the center” is supreme. But does that mean that identity would no longer be location-specific, with the influence of New Zealand obliterated by a growing universal “Chineseness”? Will Cyber China homo- genize all transnational identities? We shall examine New Zealand’s Chinese cyberspace to seek some answers. For new migrants who perceive that they are misrepresented in the host country mainstream media, ethnic media are a powerful antidote. During the 1990s, newly arrived Chinese in New Zealand enjoyed numerous free newspapers. The somewhat untidy mushrooming of Chinese-language media at that time is proof of the existence of a very active diasporic community that has continued to negotiate its inherited Chineseness with its acquired “Kiwi- ness” (Voci 2006). However, many of these newspapers were amateurishly run and short-lived, and their quality was extremely uneven (Ip 2006). Then the Internet age dawned and Chinese websites quickly superseded other forms of media in popularity and influence. In New Zealand, Chinese and other Asians are an extremely electronically savvy and connected ethnic group with a high rate of computer literacy and Internet connectivity. In early 2014, at least fifteen Chinese-language websites based in New Zealand were in operation. Largely because of the relatively short migration history of the present cohort of new Chinese and the highly selective criteria of the skilled migration scheme,2 there is a significant group of migrants with high Internet literacy and a strong attachment to China. They are, after all, mostly new arrivals with recent memories of China as their homeland. In the present stage of their migration journey, many of them are also “transmigrants”—people with multi-local residences and allegiances. Many of them want to keep their options open, and they often embark on the home- ward journey, either for short sojourns or longer stays (Ip 2011). Precisely 168 Manying Ip and Hang Yin because of their strong ongoing interest in and attachment to both the homeland and the host country (and often to third countries), their transnational “habitus” is fluid, wide-ranging, and expanding. In order to provide a comprehensive understanding of the interaction between the Chinese-language Internet and the multi-local identities of migrants, this study adopts a qualitative approach, synthesizing the analysis of media content and media users. The New Zealand-based Chinese-language website SkyKiwi.com has been identified as an ideal focus for the study of the diasporic cybersphere. With 200,000 registered members, over 75,000 unique Internet Protocol (IP) visits, and 750,000 pageviews a day (SkyKiwi 2013), SkyKiwi is the dominant Chinese-language portal in New Zealand. It should be noted that SkyKiwi users are predominantly PRC-born, with only small percentages being migrants from Taiwan and Hong Kong.3

SkyKiwi.com: node of Cyber China or alternative medium? Researchers have pointed out that as a virtual community formed by migrants, Internet platforms should offer their netizens distinct identity options in terms of ethnicity and a sense of belonging (Chan 2006). Does SkyKiwi act as a bridge facilitating readers’ integration with mainstream New Zealand society by presenting pertinent issues of the host country to the new Chinese? Or does it use the many trappings of Chineseness to bind migrants more closely to the motherland as a familiar space? When international events are presented, are they interpreted and filtered through a localized New Zealand viewpoint or through an essentialist Chinese lens? In the following pages we discuss whether SkyKiwi functions as an alternative medium for the new Chinese, who are under-represented by New Zealand mainstream media, and also how much intersection and engagement there is between the two: the ethnic and the mainstream. Every day the homepage of SkyKiwi displays one item of “A1 headline news” and fifteen items each of “New Zealand-Australian news” and “international news.” Between January 21 and February 3, 2013, we collected all the news items featured on the SkyKiwi homepage. A total of 173 domestic news items and 190 international items were collected.4 Generally speaking, the local “New Zealand-Australian news” tends to be factual and of practical value, providing information about the host country that new immigrants might find useful. SkyKiwi groups these stories under a number of categories: society, immigration and education, finance and investment, entertainment and events, and South Island news.5 These categories reflect the editorial stance of SkyKiwi, and since all the news content is institutionally generated, it represents the providers’ viewpoint regarding what netizens are interested in. During the two-week data collection period, local news on finance and investment made up 26 percent of all domestic news items, with news on society making up 22 percent, general and miscellaneous news 21 percent, and news on immigration and education 15 percent. We then used the pageview counts to see which items were actually most read by netizens. According to The Case of New Zealand 169 these quantitative data, financial news is indeed of greatest interest to readers. Five of the “top ten” most-viewed news items in these two weeks belonged to the financial news category. News items belonging to the immigration and education category ranked second in popularity, with three items among the top ten. News on society only ranked third on the “most-viewed” list. We have established that, on the whole, the website’s editorial stance and readers’ preferences are largely aligned. For a commercial website like Sky- Kiwi, it is understandably important to cater closely to client interest. The news item that was the most viewed (with 10,124 pageviews) had this headline: “Street fights expose illegal immigrants, 8 Chinese international students now face extra- dition.” This particular item combined the appeal of an incident of student violence that had dire consequences for those involved with elements of immigration policy, which has much resonance in a new migrant community. An analysis of the domestic news sources that SkyKiwi uses reveals that there is a heavy reliance on English mainstream media sources. In this respect, we can say that the ethnic media have adopted a bridging function, informing Chinese new arrivals about New Zealand society. A study by Melkote and Liu on the role of the Internet in forging “pluralistic integration” of Chinese in the United States (Melkote and Liu 2000) is partly applicable here. Their findings suggest that highly Internet dependent individuals tend to preserve Chinese cultural values, while their practical behavior—like eating and shopping— becomes Americanized. SkyKiwi indeed uses much host-country practical information that is popular among netizens. It is not unexpected to see that close to 50 percent of domestic news during the survey period came from the New Zealand Herald (the country’s largest newspaper), with Stuff.co.nz providing 11 percent, and Television New Zealand (TVNZ) 6.36 percent. What is less expected is the heavy reliance on PRC-based media, which accounts for 12 percent of news items, the other 15 percent being from other Chinese ethnic media in Australia and New Zealand. The evidence above suggests that these new migrants are mostly interested in practical information that directly relates to their host society life: the economy, immigration/education, and wider social developments. A grasp of basic information in these areas will facilitate a smoother transition into the new environment of the host country. The “Kiwi-ization” of everyday life is a part of the “pluralistic integration” that is applicable in this case. Unexpectedly, the findings indicate that SkyKiwi, as an ethnic media outlet, does not play the role of an alternative medium providing a different imagining of the new Chinese community. The data indicate that SkyKiwi is passive as a source of news and that it has no independent perspective, nor is there resistance to or negotiation with the dominant discourse in the host society. However, it should be foregrounded here that there is a strong common feeling among Chinese netizens that a new identity has emerged among them, neither purely “China Chinese,” nor strictly “Kiwi.” The “international news” featured in SkyKiwi overwhelmingly relates to the Chinese world: the PRC, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and other international 170 Manying Ip and Hang Yin Chinese communities. The subjects and news content are mostly categorized as either “society” or “entertainment.” By “society,” SkyKiwi seems to denote “non-political,”“non-economic” social items of lesser importance and of a trivial and “social gossip” nature, whereas “entertainment” is taken to include previews of film and television series and items on popular artists’ social lives. An analysis of the top ten “international news” items during these two weeks shows that they have far fewer pageviews than their counterparts in “New Zealand-Australian news”: unlike the latter, pageviews of “international news” are only in the thousands, not the tens of thousands. Also noticeable is that all ten of the “most-viewed items” carry photos and graphics intended to attract audience attention. Among these ten news items, no fewer than five are about “sexy” female celebrities of the Asian world. As for news sources, the “society” items are mainly from mainland China, while the “entertainment” items are mainly from Hong Kong and Taiwan. If the subject matter of SkyKiwi’s “international news” is not really so international, the same could be said of its sources. When we examined the range of news agencies that the website used during the survey period, we found that they were all from Chinese-language websites, predominantly based in the PRC. These included Chinanews.com, Xinhuanet.com, and People.cn, which are all official state media outlets, plus the powerful Sina.com. The two exceptions were items originally from The Daily Mail (UK), and Fox News (USA)—taken not from the original networks but from their Chinese websites. Based on a textual analysis of the SkyKiwi news content, their sources, and the pageview quantitative evidence, we argue that Chinese websites have indeed shaped the news content and the editorial frame of SkyKiwi. We would argue that this ethnic website functions as a node of Cyber China rather than an alternative medium for new Chinese arrivals.

Cyber China and parallel lives While diasporic websites can serve as nodes in Cyber China, other online activities of migrants in Cyber China help them to lead a “virtual life” in cyberspace that is parallel to their physical life in the host country. Interviews with Chinese migrant netizens suggest that two particular online activities contribute to the creation of the feeling of having parallel lives, namely, reading online news and “in-group” communication.6 Most of the participants in this study frequently read China news online, from both diasporic websites (such as SkyKiwi) and major Internet portals in China. Readily accessible China news through various online platforms helps fulﬁll netizens’“epistephilic desire” (Naﬁcy 1993: 107), a yearning for information about recent events in their previous homeland. One interviewee enunciated this emotional need as follows:

The news I care most about is China news. It’s my priority. It doesn’t seem to have any obvious or instant inﬂuence on my daily life The Case of New Zealand 171 [here in New Zealand], but it’s important to my personal feelings and emotions. (Helen, F 51 NZ)7

Apart from this emotional craving for homeland news, another commonly cited reason for using these websites is related more to practical and utilitarian needs—many migrants’ transnational activities and prospects require an up-to- date knowledge of China. Jessica (F 41 NZ) explained that she read China news on Sina.com every day. “There’s no way that I don’t read China news because I hold stocks of listed companies in China, and I deal frequently in the Shanghai Stock Exchange [online].” For Jessica, knowing what is happening in China in real time is essential for making informed stock trading decisions. For some others, a transnational prospect, though not yet an imminent reality, dictates their consumption of China news. Young Carl, a university student in his early twenties, migrated to New Zealand with his parents when he was only twelve. He spent most of his formative years in the host country, acquiring an education in New Zealand from Year 13 at school until he went to university. Nonetheless, he favors China news over host-country local news. Envisioning his future in China after graduating from university, he said: “The most important reason [for following China news closely] is that I see my future in China.” These distinct yet intertwined twin drivers—emotional needs and practical needs—account for these migrant netizens’ preference for China news. For some, especially young migrants, their options are open in terms of possible future physical locations. Once they have the strategic plan to return to China, Chinese-language cyberspace becomes a convenient source of information. For others who need to maintain transnational business ties, China news is a prerequisite for their economic success. The Internet thus allows these transmigrants to “make decisions and act across borders in real time” (Nedelcu 2012: 1340). On the Internet, emotional and practical transnational ties with the homeland are regularly maintained or re-established. Most importantly, through online China news, migrant netizens are able to include themselves as members of an “imagined community” (Anderson 1983), in this case, Cyber China. One of the participants, Yin (M 24 IS), said: “Ireadnewsofeventsthatare closely related to my life.” He meant events in China—as he later explained: real estate prices, China’s economic growth, policy changes, entertainment news, etc. Jing (F 38 WK) similarly claimed: “I pay attention to social news, things happening around me, stories about people’s livelihood … mostly China news.” By using such phrases as “events closely related to my life” and “things happening around me,” Jing and Yin unwittingly showed that they have positioned themselves in an imagined China while physically residing in New Zealand. For these migrant netizens, the Internet not only brings the homeland news to them but also incorporates them into the surrounding Chinese cyberspace. The conception of Cyber China among migrant netizens manifests itself even more strongly in the following example. The previously mentioned young 1.5-generation migrant Carl commented: “I usually read both international 172 Manying Ip and Hang Yin news and national news [guonei xinwen].” By “national news” Carl meant China news. Actually, during the interviews quite a number of respondents used the term “national news” when referring to China news. This is a poignant echoing of early Chinese-language press in New Zealand, in which the “national news” section of all local newspapers presented news items about China instead of New Zealand (Ip 2006). The evidence above reveals a collective imagination of China among these migrant netizens. The Internet provides a space for such an imagination; Internet use, especially the uninterrupted consumption of China news, is a contributory factor; and the Internet also provides a space for migrant netizens to experience and reinforce that imagination through a virtual life experienced in Cyber China. Furthermore, the Internet oﬀers a transnational space in which migrants can socialize and “live together” with their Chinese friends and families through IM tools and Social Networking Services (SNS). The new Chinese in New Zealand prefer Chinese platforms, and while a majority of the participants in this study use both international-based (Facebook, Twitter) and China-based (RenRen, QZone, Sina Weibo) platforms, quite a few participants pointed out to us that they do not use international platforms very often. China-based SNS platforms were much more popular. More than half of the participants used these every day, and the others frequently, to socialize with either their old friends in China or new friends they had made in New Zealand. It is important to point out that, as Chinese substitutes for international platforms such as Facebook and Twitter (which are banned and blocked in China), these China-based platforms see China and the Chinese as their main audience group. Users on these platforms are overwhelmingly, if not exclusively, ethnic Chinese. This has helped create a space for in-group socialization. More recently, some of the interview participants had started to use Sina Weibo, one of China’s most popular weibo (microblogging) services, on a daily basis to socialize and to get instant updates not only on what their friends are doing but also on China news. Frances (F 27 PR) explained that she used Sina Weibo every day and that she followed some Chinese celebrities as well as her “real life” friends; she also stated that Sina Weibo had now become her major source of news. Yang (M 31 PR), another participant, had only recently started to use Weibo, and all his contacts were Chinese, too:

Weibo disseminates information very promptly. It allows you to express your ideas and read about others’ thoughts immediately. I want to use it to spread my [political] ideas, which I think are more liberal [than many Chinese]. The Chinese [in China] are my target audience.

This type of in-group socialization can make migrant netizens feel constantly connected to their previous homeland and friends in China, enhancing the sense of solidarity and intimacy. As Ian (M 26 PR) mentioned, when caring words from his friends appear in the Weibo comments, he feels “warm and comfortable.” Although physically away from China, these migrant netizens The Case of New Zealand 173 can still feel a strong connection to an “imagined community” that is enabled by China-based SNS platforms, creating and maintaining transnational social networks that cut across geographic boundaries. While SNS platforms provide migrant netizens with a transnational space in which they can socialize with their Chinese peers, the use of IM arguably opens up to them a new way of “living together” with their co-ethnics in Cyber China. Many migrant netizens use both international- and China-based IM platforms, including MSN Messenger,8 Skype, and QQ. However, interview participants still showed a strong preference for China-based IM services, with sixteen out of eighteen interviewees using QQ. Once again, they socialize mainly with ethnic Chinese on these platforms. The IM platform is so important that most participants would keep their QQ constantly online. Yin (M 24 IS) said that QQ had become his life habit. “When you live here [in New Zealand], QQ becomes a necessary tool. It doesn’t matter if you actually use it [to chat]; you will always keep it open and online. … [I have it open] even when I’m doing my assignments.” Like Yin, Min (M 21 ST) said that he used QQ to video chat with his parents in China every weekend; he would also keep QQ online at all times because he wanted to be available to his friends back in China, “… just in case they want to talk to me.” For many, QQ is not only a necessary tool to communicate but has also become an emotional crutch that can remotely engender a feeling of intimacy to counteract isolation and boredom. Susan’s (F 30 PR) QQ friends are all Chinese, including her previous classmates and colleagues in China as well as new friends made in New Zealand. She said that keeping QQ online has become a “psychological addiction,” and that “… it’slikethere’s someone sitting over there, willing to chat with you.” Another interviewee (Kate, F 24 PR) said: “[If I don’t open QQ] I feel very uneasy. Like … there’s something missing. My friends and family are all there, after all. Even if we don’t chat, I still feel very close [to them].” For these migrant netizens, QQ has become a space that oﬀers them the closeness and intimacy they long for. Most importantly, they can develop the feeling that they and their family are no longer separated: with the physical distance between them seemingly obliterated by the powerful links oﬀered by the Internet, they are just together in Cyber China. Quite often, migrant netizens seem to lead parallel lives—one physical in New Zealand and the other imagined in Cyber China:

[Here in New Zealand] I live with Chinese; I speak only Chinese; I go to Chinese supermarkets; I eat Chinese food. Plus, I visit Chinese websites every day; I watch Chinese TV dramas on these websites … everything is Chinese. I sometimes ask myself, “Where am I?” I feel like I’m still living in China, apart from when I’m driving on the road—on the left side. (Peng, M 35 WK)

Such parallel lives have potent implications for the identity construction of these Chinese migrant netizens. While they are physically residing in the host 174 Manying Ip and Hang Yin country, they are psychologically and emotionally living in the virtual realm of Cyber China. While participation in Cyber China indicates a strong Chi- nese identity, migrant netizens have also increasingly manifested a multi-local transnational identity, tied both to the home and the host country. Below we examine how they articulate this emergent identity, albeit with a lesser degree of conviction and eloquence.

Transnational identity: cyberspace and lived experience The previous section shows that Cyber China has exerted strong inﬂuence on the daily life of Chinese migrant netizens and their identity construction by enabling a parallel virtual life in cyberspace. In this section we proceed to investigate what kind of transnational identity is articulated and negotiated in cyberspace. Furthermore, we delve into how the twin forces of Cyber China and the lived experience of migrant netizens have redeﬁned the meaning of being Chinese in New Zealand.

SkyKiwi: a space for migrant identity negotiation We have chosen three hot-button news items that stimulated large numbers of users’ comments on SkyKiwi as case studies to investigate Chinese migrants’ responses to these events and to study their sense of identity. The first of these was SkyKiwi’s headline news on December 27, 2012, which caused a stir in the New Zealand Chinese community. Based on the previous evening’s national TVNZ news story, the item reported that a sizeable group of Chinese tourists had joined a Christmas charity lunch, an annual event intended for the poor and the homeless. A photo showed a table of elderly Chinese ready to start their lunch, and the caption read: “Members of the public have voiced concern over the possibility of tour groups taking advantage of the Auckland City Mission’s Christmas lunch, which 2,800 people attended” (SkyKiwi 2012b). Within ten days of appearance, the news item had drawn 14,698 pageviews and 193 comments on SkyKiwi. One group of netizens blamed mainstream media for casting a negative light on the Chinese community and vilifying the Chinese. Some saw the “Chinese tourists” as victims, being conned by unscrupulous tour operators who should be held responsible. Others took the line of casting doubt on the accuracy of the mainstream television report, pointing out that the supposed “Chinese tourists” might not be tourists at all. They could in fact be local Chinese elderlies who were arguably legitimate attendees of the Christmas luncheon. One comment read: “Who is entitled to go to this charity lunch? If it is intended for those who are in hardship … those who are claiming social welfare, then why can’t some of the Chinese elderlies go along? … We are all immigrants, and should have the same entitlement” (SkyKiwi 2012b). The postings showed that at the center of these concerns was the prestige of the Chinese community in New Zealand. The thread of the discussions was The Case of New Zealand 175 developed from the viewpoint of new migrants, not influenced by any wider arguments current in Cyber China, indicating location-specific perspectives that have been acquired since their migration. By rejecting the accusations of the mainstream media, the comments reveal contributors’ uneasiness, feelings of insecurity, and desire to save face. At the same time, backed up by additional information acquired online, some other migrant netizens claimed the right of local Chinese to attend the free lunches, which were open to New Zealanders of all ethnicities. In this way, SkyKiwi unintentionally provided a platform for the diasporic audience to resist the dominant media discourse in the host society. The user-generated content had made the diasporic website an alternative medium. Some Chinese migrants became highly reflective and showed strong feelings of self-doubt and embarrassment. This trend started with an unusually frank and unassuming posting written in a strongly apologetic tone:

My own mother went with a local Chinese organization. She commented that some of the Chinese behaved badly: pushing and grabbing. I am really angry that the leader of her organization took them along just to have a free meal, taking unfair advantage! (SkyKiwi 2012b)

Similar postings followed: “This incident should really prompt us to do some self- reflection! This is our bad habit—we like to take advantage of the system.” At least two postings called for donations to the City Mission, which had organized the luncheon. This self-reflective tone was echoed during the long-running saga involving dairy milk and baby formula, which attracted much attention from Chinese migrants in New Zealand—the second of the three news stories we examine here. Ever since 2008, when the contaminated milk powder scandal in China hit world news headlines, this story thread has been a hot-button issue, incorporating as it does all the classic elements that stir deep emotions among new immigrants on many levels: shock and anger on learning that melamine-laced Chinese baby formula had caused life-threatening diseases among innocent victims back home; the frantic search for safer products in New Zealand; ambivalent feelings about the widespread practice of bulk-buying dairy products in New Zealand and posting them back to China, which quickly grew into a multi-million dollar illegal trade; and finally the social backlash against ordinary Chinese shoppers in New Zealand, who were tarred with the same brush. While many postings took a chauvinistic line and argued that the Chinese have every right to buy up milk powder from New Zealand retailers, claiming that China’s economic power should make New Zealand tremble, the majority of them condemned the greedy milk powder traders and individual buyers who were buying cans of baby formula in bulk and sending them to China by post or courier, thereby evading tax and pushing the boundaries of New Zealand’s official export regulations (SkyKiwi 2012a). A dawning new awareness bred 176 Manying Ip and Hang Yin by the local New Zealand environment and their actual local lived experience seemed to be affecting a number of Chinese transnationals. Some netizens articulated their frustration toward their demanding relatives back in China: “Friends and relatives in China, if you really have babies who need safe baby formula, that’s understandable. But there are those who only want to make a profit, and ask us to buy baby formula for them. … I am truly embarrassed.” Another comment read: “I was once a buyer, but now I’ve stopped. I can no longer face the judgmental look I get from the checkout operator.” Collectively, these postings demonstrate vividly that some of these Chinese netizens want to establish a sense of fairness within the new migrant community, and hope that the old behavior prompted by selfishness and greed can be changed in a more relaxed social environment where values are quite different from those in China. The analysis of this cyber discourse reveals a clear sense of collective embarrassment and an awareness that the Chinese community has pushed the boundary of legality and decency in the host country. There is even evidence of a sympathetic understanding of the resentment of New Zealand mothers, who faced shelves emptied by Chinese shoppers: “Oh, poor Chinese babies; poor Kiwi babies, too!” The migrants’ grounded experience, the reality of their everyday life, has given them a new perspective on the rights and wrongs of the situation regarding the bulk-buying of baby formula—a viewpoint that they know most of their relatives and friends in China would be unable to share. In his study of new Chinese immigrants in Vancouver, Edgar Wickberg (2007) suggests that immigration and resettlement often stimulate a need to redefine oneself and one’s family in ways that will “adapt to the new environment and yet be consistent with one’s values.” While the Internet is a powerful source of global Chinese cyber communities, it also facilitates “personalized versions of an essential Chineseness” (Wickberg 2007: 178). In the New Zealand netizens’ heated argument about what attitudes they should adopt and what course of action they should take in the “battle for baby formula,” there is rich evidence that many of them are indeed choosing a more personalized version of what being Chinese in New Zealand means to them. Instead of remaining stridently nationalistic, many are thinking of the needs of other New Zealanders, articulating their ambivalent allegiance in their Internet postings. Feelings of identification with New Zealand are most manifest when the host country is struck by natural disaster—as was the case in the third news story we consider in this section. When Christchurch, New Zealand’s largest city in the South Island, was rocked by a 7.1 Richter-scale earthquake on September 4, 2010, the breaking news on SkyKiwi attracted over 22,700 pageviews and over a hundred comments (Skykiwi 2010a). Here we can see strong evidence, indicated by the content of the postings, that netizens in China participated in the cyber chat offered by SkyKiwi and that cyberspace truly transcends national borders. Obviously from a worried parent living in China, one posting read: “My son works in Christchurch in NZ. This morning he rang us at home to say he’s safe. Christchurch has no water or electricity. … I pray for my son, and for the people of Christchurch.” Many similar postings were written by Chinese The Case of New Zealand 177 returnees who had lived in the stricken city. One read: “It has been over six months since I returned to China. Just now I heard this news about the earthquake! I pray for my friends, and I pray for the people of Christchurch.” Among the eighty comments, no fewer than nineteen used encouraging phrases like “God bless,”“pray for,”“take heart,”“keep on.” Four postings mentioned their readiness to make a donation and enquired about how to do so. One of these read: “I wish to make a donation. … not quite sure through which channel. Somehow witnessing NZ’s earthquake has pained me more than seeing China’s earthquake. Probably it’s because I’ve been here so long.” One particularly remarkable posting thread was started by a netizen who condemned China’s powerful Sina.com for misleading reporting on the Christchurch earthquake:

Sina.com uses headings like “NZ shops looted after earthquake.” This is inaccurate and misleading. … Such reports would also make our families and friends in China very worried for us here. From last night till now I’ve been taking incessant phone calls from my [worried] friends [in China].

Another read: “Such [misleading] headlines would add so much heartache to our families in China. Curse you Sina! Pray for Christchurch!” This protest against the homeland media for mis-reporting New Zealand’s event shows their desire to defend their own emergent New Zealand identity. It should be noted that such strong condemnation of “sensationalism” and “distortion” is usually reserved for patriotic Chinese rhetoric that accuses Western media of misrepresenting China. The above examples show that the same condemnation was used by transnational Chinese netizens against the mighty Sina, which can only be understood as indicating that the person in question had developed a strong attachment to his adopted home. The unabashed articulation of aﬀection toward New Zealand stirred more heated online arguments. On September 8, 2010, a posting appeared, apparently written by a young student, with a tone of deep frustration but also strong deﬁance:

Why is it that if someone says he likes NZ, others always object? We haven’t done anything wrong or bad, I just like NZ more than China! That’s what I think, why am I not allowed to say it? (SkyKiwi 2010b)

This impassioned piece of writing is a good example of a transnational person asserting his new Kiwi identity with boldness and rebelliousness, repudiating the hold that China has on its former nationals and objecting to the tremendous peer pressure that has been put on him by those of his co-ethnics who expect him to toe the patriotic line toward the motherland. 178 Manying Ip and Hang Yin Redefined Chinese Cyberspace has opened up new platforms for the multi-thread articulation and negotiation of migrant identity. Evidence from our in-depth interviews with Chinese migrant netizens further supports the view that a multi-local transnational identity is in the making under the dual influence of Cyber China and migrants’ lived experience, an identity that is constantly negotiated between an unshakable Chineseness and an emerging Kiwiness. At the beginning of each of the in-depth interviews we conducted for this study, respondents were asked to rate the following two statements on a scale of zero to ten: “Iam Chinese”; and “I love China.” All respondents, except one who chose “9,” gave a score of “10” for the first statement, showing that all the new immigrants interviewed have a strong ethnic identity as Chinese, irrespective of their citizenship status and their years spent in New Zealand. The “I love China” statement received thirteen perfect scores, while the remaining five interviewees appended explanatory statements to the effect that they love Chinese culture and people but have reservations about the government and the Party. In spite of proclaiming such an unshakable Chinese identity and strong identification with China as a nation, these netizens all have their individual tales of how the migration experience has transformed them. Their transformation is on different levels and in different areas, depending on the individual’s personal circumstances. First and foremost is a gradual adaptation to the New Zealand way of everyday life. The transformation involves the shifting of viewpoints, with regard to both China and New Zealand, and the acquisition of new values when thinking about global issues as well as personal matters. Whether they admit it or not, these new migrants are no longer the same people they were when they left China. Re-invigorated patriotism aside, the lived experience in New Zealand has indeed transformed Jessica (F 52 NZ). She mused that she could feel the barriers between her compatriots and herself when she returned to China, and there seemed to be less common ground. Most importantly, Jessica believed that she had developed an independent way of thinking since migration: “The Chinese Internet … has enabled me to look at [important Chinese affairs] with greater clarity and reason. Now I’d look at them from an alternative angle.” Another young international student Min (M 21 IS) voiced similar feelings about his acquisition of fresh viewpoints after migration. He is young and a comparatively recent arrival. Having just completed junior high school prior to migration, he echoed Jessica’s thoughts, and cited more concrete reasons for his changing views:

I follow China news very closely. … Some fellow students told me about chinaSMACK.com, an English website. … IthinkI’m now more objective in my views, less extreme. I encountered new environments, a new culture, and new people. My vision is wider, not so parochial. And I got to know China from a different angle. The Case of New Zealand 179 Min continued to talk about his newfound hobby of expressing his thoughts and opinions on blogs. Yang (M 31 PR), a young IT professional, expressed similar feelings, again giving factual examples of how his views on certain specific issues had changed since migration. He noted that thanks to unobstructed Internet access in New Zealand he now had more channels of information. He found that a lot of facts contradicted what he had learned back in China. This had changed his opinion about China’s sovereignty over Tibet and Taiwan, which, according to all Chinese textbooks, are inalienable territories of China. Now Yang felt that the wishes of the people who live in those particular territories should be respected. He now believed that people’s happiness is of paramount importance, remarking: “No matter what ethnicity you claim, you are a person, and should become a responsible person. When we judge any events we should not be looking only from the angle of ethnicity. We should start from the angle of being just and fair.” Susan (F 30 PR) explored her changing identity by starting with examples that were small and intimate. She noted that her choice of preferred websites had changed. She now used SkyKiwi much more often than Tianya.cn, a China- based website she had frequented before migration. She explained: “Why did I switch to SkyKiwi? It’s because my living environment has changed, and I needed to choose something closer to my real circumstances.” There was not a single respondent who professed that the migration experience had not affected them in some way—from enabling them to have wider access to factual information to prompting them to change to a more “NZ-focused website”;from instilling in them an interest in simple, mundane events happening in the everyday New Zealand environment to empowering them with an awareness that they were now “overseas Chinese” rather than “China Chinese.” It is evident that the very act of leaving the homeland and going to a new country, no matter whether it is for long-term settlement or short-term study or work stay, opens up vistas and deluges immigrants with a whole set of new challenges. While their sense of “being Chinese” may remain strong and their self-styled role as “defender of China’s honor” may become even stronger, their opinions on China tend to change with their widening world view. While they are firm and sincere in claiming Chinese identity, it is safe to argue that this is a new sense of Chinese identity and a more mixed type of “Chineseness.” To many it is a Chineseness tempered with greater tolerance and less didactic patriotism. It is a Chineseness that is not narrowly based on an assumed sense of superiority or a continuous claim of victimization. Instead, it is a dignified self-respect engendered by the knowledge that they are inheritors of a great civilization and that there is no need for chauvinistic rhetoric based on an unquestioning support of the motherland. At the end of the interviews, respondents were asked to rate their sense of identity and belonging in relation to two statements: “I am Kiwi,” and “I love New Zealand.” While none of these new transnational Chinese claimed strong Kiwi identity, the majority proclaimed a love for New Zealand. The fact that they now had another place, besides China, to love and identify with 180 Manying Ip and Hang Yin is evidence that their sense of allegiance had shifted, largely because of their migration experience in New Zealand as host country. Scholars have pointed out that the imagination of a nation on the Internet could have two conflicting tendencies: toward fragmentation and toward cen- tralization. There has been much debate about whether the Internet has been used to construct a homogeneous or a heterogeneous world (Chan 2006). In the New Zealand case, the Chinese Internet has largely played a role as a cen- tralizing agent, but the netizens themselves have somehow constructed a rather heterogeneous world, with many voices challenging the dominant discourse.

Conclusion and discussion Wickberg suggests that with the help of the Internet, immigrants can choose to “look both outward and backward”(Wickberg 2007: 179). They can look at Chinese heritage sites and also at global Chinese sites, and elements featured in these can be used as points of reference for reinterpreting the present. In this Internet-empowered personal identity recasting, transnational netizens can embark on the process of “recreating Chineseness,” forging an identity that suits them best in their particular living environment. Only individuals themselves can decide whether they are happy to be patriotic overseas Chi- nese, drawing comfort and confidence from the strength of a rising China, or whether they are more comfortable with being “new Asians” and a visible minority in a multicultural New Zealand. The rhetoric of nationalism and identity and labels such as “overseas Chinese,”“the Chinese nation,”“ethnic Chinese abroad,” etc.—so freely used in both China and New Zealand—frequently clash in the public narratives of the cybersphere, and each of these value- laden labels has an impact on transnationals in their identity re-negotiation process. At the beginning of this paper, we set out to examine possible links between the Chinese-language Internet and the transnational identity of new immigrants, to investigate whether Cyber China enriches the transnational social field or whether it dominates the agenda and discourse so strongly that all locally based networks become subjugated and lose any individuality they might have had. Based on the data derived from the online text of the New Zealand website SkyKiwi.com, we found that PRC-based media have indeed overshadowed transnational media, influencing local media-providers’ editorial stance and monopolizing news sources. This has been the result of spon- taneous development over time and there is little evidence of a deliberate policy of control or influence from the homeland, nor are there any signs of sycophantic supplication or strong self-censorship from the local Chinese media. The New Zealand Chinese media simply become merged with greater Cyber China because of practical circumstances. On the other hand, there is at present no evidence in New Zealand to support the notion that alternative media have emerged independently to better represent migrant interests and to either challenge or closely connect The Case of New Zealand 181 with mainstream media. However, our detail discourse analysis of netizen- generated web postings and readers’ comments on a number of controversial news items reveals that new Chinese transnationals are showing a rather independent line of thinking. Their arguments manifest a new world view, a new sense of love and civic duty toward their adopted country, and an unexpected awareness of the feelings and needs of other New Zealand citizens. Finally, what these netizens said in their interviews directly shows, in their own words, how their migration experience and their Internet habits have affected their sense of identity. While all of them professed that they are definitely Chinese and love China, they also described graphically how their perception of China’s standing in the world and their personal relationship with the motherland have shifted—some more radically than others. Initially, when we set out to analyze the relationship between Cyber China and transnational identities, netizens’ values and norms seemed to be totally dominated by the “Chineseness” propagated on the Internet. Their reliance on a virtual existence online, at both practical and emotional levels, seemed to be total. Their self-proclaimed Chineseness was unhesitating and beyond doubt, although their identification with the Chinese government was often more ambivalent. However, it is their emergent New Zealand Kiwi identity that should be noted. Having been exposed to alternative discourses, the new Chinese settlers showed an increasing interest in New Zealand news and discussions and participated freely in forums to debate what their emergent identity was all about. Their free exposure to many other viewpoints has given these Chinese netizens alternative perspectives and the chance to think for themselves. What we found in the New Zealand case should also be gen- eralizable to a much wider context—for example, those immigrant nations with open policies welcoming essentially well-educated, professional middle- class migrants. Countries like Canada and Australia are possibly the closest comparisons. New Zealand, with its small base population and uncom- plicated migration history, probably offers a chance for emergent social trends to be observed more clearly than in these other countries. The present study of Cyber China’sinfluence on transnational identity examines one such trend. The overall manifestation shows that, on the one hand, the content provided by media institutions is relatively homogeneous in Cyber China, with ethnic online media heavily influenced by official media in the PRC; on the other hand, however, online discourses in the user-generated content (i.e. news comments and forum postings) in Chinese cyberspace in New Zealand is heterogeneous. This heterogeneity accentuates the fact that transnational identity is fluid and continuously undergoing a process of contestation and re-negotiation. Through an analysis of their cyber discourse and their own narratives, we can detect the emergence of such a process among transnational Chinese netizens in New Zealand—a process that is influenced by the mighty Cyber China and yet embedded in the lived experience of migrants in the host country. 182 Manying Ip and Hang Yin Notes 1 New Zealand has a significant overseas-born population, with one-fourth (25.2 percent) of the country’s usual residents born overseas (Statistics New Zealand 2013). About 124,500 ethnic Chinese were born overseas, which is 73 percent of the total Chinese population in New Zealand (Statistics New Zealand 2014). 2 New Zealand’s migration scheme favors those who are highly educated—preferably with a university degree and professional training, a strong business track record, and good English skills—as well as those who are healthy and young. 3 According to SkyKiwi’s own survey in 2009, 89 percent of its users were born in mainland China (SkyKiwi 2009). 4 At weekends there are fewer news updates in domestic news than on weekdays. 5 These are literal translations of the categories used by SkyKiwi. 6 We conducted eighteen in-depth interviews in Auckland with Chinese migrant netizens to acquire data on their own perspective with regard to their Internet use, their sense of belonging, and their sense of identity. 7 Pseudonyms are used for interviewees, followed by a code indicating gender, age, and visa status—NZ for New Zealand citizen, WK for work visa holder, IS for international student, or PR for permanent resident with PRC citizenship. 8 MSN Messenger was rebranded as “Windows Live Messenger” in 2005, and Microsoft began to phase it out when it bought Skype. The service is now only available in China. Regardless of the change in the name, most Chinese users simply refer to it as “MSN”.

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Susan Leong

Introduction The figure of the Chinese entrepreneur looms large in Australia’s “migration imaginary” today (Fortier 2012, 31). Two developments of recent years are responsible for this. The first development has to do with Australia’s changing demography: in the period 2010/11 China became the primary source of permanent migrants to Australia, usurping the United Kingdom’s unbroken record since Federation in 1901 (Phillips and Spinks 2012; Phillips, Klapdor, and Simon-Davies 2010: 22–24).1 The second is China’s new position as Australia’s top trading partner from 2011 onward (Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade 2012, 2013). As an export market for Australian goods and services alone, China’s share has grown about ten-fold, from 2.4 to 23.7 percent between the periods 1990/91 and 2010/11 (Andrew 2012). Australia is also among the top three destinations for outbound investment from China (Austrade 2014). At the same time, as China rises both its people and its products are utilizing their success at home as the basis for launching into new, international spaces. Chinese media company Sina Corporation, for example, now lists its shares on the United States Stock Exchange (BBC 2014). Sina owns Sina Weibo, one of China’s two main microblogging platforms, as well as Sina.com, a vast portal of news and information from China. Its rival, Tencent, which runs China’smost popular mobile phone instant messaging application in China, WeChat, proudly counts one hundred million overseas users among its 355 million monthly active users (Ferguson 2014). This chapter delineates a scoping study on the place of Chinese social media in the process provisional business migrants undergo when they trade China for Australia. The question it seeks to answer is whether— and if so, how—social media use by Chinese provisional business migrants to Australia aids in their grasp and navigation of the different economic, socio-cultural, and political spaces of Australia vis-à-vis China. The term “social media” is itself notoriously difficult to define because its popular usage precedes its theoretical definition and no first use has been documented (Bercovici 2010). I use here the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of “social media” as “[w]ebsites and applications that enable users to create and share content or to participate in social networking.”2 This Provisional Business Migrants 185 includes the array of Internet telephony, Internet Protocol Television (IPTV), instant messaging (IM), (micro)blogs, social networking sites, video and photo-sharing sites, as well as social gaming. O’Reilly, who coined the term “Web 2.0” (of which social media are a part), explains it as distinguished chiefly by two interlinked features: the participatory and collaborative nature of its platforms, which get “better the more people use it”; and its creation of a context where “user behavior [is] not predetermined” (O’Reilly 2005). Due to the sheer size of the Chinese user base—618 million at the end of 2013 (China Internet Network Information Center 2014: 18)—and the alacrity with which Chinese netizens have taken to social media, much has been made of the potential socio-political impact of social media within China (Tai 2013). Much less research has been done on their everyday implications. Business migration was introduced as the entrepreneur category into Aus- tralia’s general migration program by the Fraser government in 1976. In 1981 the scheme was replaced by the business migration program and expanded to include self-employed persons. The entrepreneurial and business ownership elements of the program were combined in 1983, but it was not until 1992 that a points test was put in place to screen potential migrants for desirable skills and qualities (Borowski and Nash 1994: 231–32). Two-stage processing was introduced into Australia’s business migration program in March 2003 (Department of Immigration and Border Protection 2014a), and up until then all successful business migrants were granted permanent residence in Australia. On July 1, 2012, the array of thirteen visa categories or subclasses was “streamlined” down to three (Department of Immigration and Border Protection 2012). Within the context of annual overall migration figures ranging from 70,000 to 180,000 since the 2000s (Phillips and Spinks 2012), Australia’s business migration intake is not large but it does suffer chronically from the perception that it is the gateway where “multi-millionaires before emigration” (Collins 2002: 125) can “buy their way” into permanent residence (Borowski and Nash 1994: 247). Partly as an outcome of local resentment and the pre- ponderance of Asian applicants to the program since the late 1980s (Borowski and Nash 1994: 247), business migration program planners have always needed to delicately balance the objectives of the program with the conditions under which business people can migrate to Australia. Broadly speaking, because business migrants “arrive as experienced entrepreneurs with large amounts of capital ready to make their mark on the national and international markets, their trajectory to ethnic enterprise is … much different from that of the traditional path of ethnic Chinese from wage labourer to entrepreneur” (Collins 2002: 120). Nonetheless, I contend that there is no reason to believe that business migrants remain aloof from the issues of social exclusion and/or the trials of transition. As Baldassar and Pyke (2013) point out, even elite migration can lead to both facilitation and friction between different generations of migrants from the same home nation. 186 Susan Leong I would add that provisional business migration is not quite “elite migration.” Elite migrants are seldom placed on waitlists, so to speak, before they can obtain leave to settle permanently, but apart from those eligible for the Business Talent visa subclass 132, all business migrants to Australia are today provisional migrants if, and until, permanent residence (PR) is granted at the second stage.3 Under the revamped visa scheme, applicants holding the Busi- ness Innovation and Investment visa subclass 188 are generally granted temporary residence for four years, with the potential to extend by up to two years if further criteria are met.4 In other words, the prospect of a somewhat ignominious return to the home nation remains a possibility for provisional business migrants (henceforth PBMs) over a fair few years, leading to what I suggest is a conditional sense of belonging. Hence, far from frictionless, the provisional business migration experience is one that is crosscut with tensions, wrought not just by Australia’s historical unease with Asian migration, or even “how immigration is debated in ways that exceed legal, political, and economic issues and statuses” (Fortier 2012: 31), but also from the everyday (re)living of conditional belonging, framed by the demands of both host and home nation-states. It is within these contexts that this chapter grapples with the question of what attitudes and social media practices Chinese PBMs develop in response to their conditional mode of existence and how these attitudes and practices can be investigated and understood. The chapter is built around a set of interviews conducted as a pilot study. As the business migration program reforms only took place in the latter half of 2012, interviewees include those transitioning through the older scheme.5

Provisional business migration and conditional belonging Australian migration records show that since 2000, the business migration program has consistently allocated approximately 7,000 places for business migrants to come to Australia.6 In recent years, mainland Chinese have been the largest group of business migrants to Australia, lodging the majority of applications made in 2008/9 and 2009/10 (Department of Immigration and Citizenship 2010: 6). Media and financial sector reports suggest that overall incertitude within China is the main reason even well-off entrepreneurs and families from mainland China are willing to risk the conditional belonging that provisional business migration imposes on PBMs.7 Concern about bio- and food-security,8 the weak rule of law, and the risky environment for business and capital—as well as the uncertain prospects of future generations in a hyper-competitive society—are commonly cited reasons for perceptions and fears of uncertainty in China. A recent report by Bain and Company and China Merchants Bank indicates “high net worth individuals” in China—those with RMB10 million or more (Bain and Company 2009: 3)—are on the move throughout the world. The United States remains their top choice, but Canada and Australia are also desirable destinations. It is safe to assume, given the number of countries that have welcomed Provisional Business Migrants 187 Chinese investors and capital with open arms,9 that provisional business migration to Australia is usually the recourse of those who either do not possess the desired attributes or, in rare instances, do not want to apply for permanent migration under the business or skilled migration schemes. Within such a hierarchy, these individuals can be referred to as “middling migrants” (Mar 2005: 367). What are the factors that render them so? In a study of temporary workers, international students, and working holiday makers, Robertson (2014: 3) argues that “‘temporariness’ [serves] as a disciplinary practice of the state” since, apart from anything else, temporary migrants can never be certain when the right to reside in Australia may be withdrawn. Time acts as a constraint in all its various forms, not least as a criterion of eligibility. A glance through the relevant points test reveals that the same applies to PBMs.10 For example, a preference for those between twenty-five and thirty-two years of age is reflected in the points awarded for individuals in this age range (thirty points—the highest of any age group), all the way to zero points for applicants over fifty-five. Depending on which of the three streams of the visa PBMs hold,11 conditions are also attached to the number of days of residence in Australia that qualify PBMs to apply for PR in the second stage. There are many other “objective measures of business performance” that help officials decide whether applicants are genuinely capable of contributing to the goals of the business migration program. The fact is, until PBMs satisfy the requirements of the first stage they remain, to paraphrase Rajkumar et al. (2012: 483), “not-yet-desirable,” or middling migrants to Aus- tralia. Such conditional belonging is reinforced by the Australian state’scareful delineation between temporary and permanent migrants, which stipulates that along with many other temporary migrants, PBMs have zero access to the state- subsidized healthcare system (Medicare), family assistance, or social security benefits.12 To belong, Anthias (2006: 21) asserts, “is to be accepted as part of a community, to feel safe within it and to have a stake in the future of such a community.” Feeling safe is part of the long-term surety that Chinese PBMs seek, but to do so they have to forego some of the familiarity that underpins their place in China for short-term uncertainty within Australia. Feeling out of place in an alien social milieu is an experience common to migrants. At issue here is what practices and attitudes PBMs employ in the transition between when the host society seems alien and when they start “feeling ‘at home’” (Yuval-Davis 2006: 197). For Yuval-Davis (2006: 199), belonging itself is a dynamic process constructed on three levels: social position; identification and emotional attachment; and ethical and political value systems—all of which can be affected by what migrants see, hear, and read via the media of both their host nation and their home nation. Due to the digital nature of media content, both Chinese and Australian sources of media are conveniently accessible to PBMs. Per- haps more so since China has focused its considerable resources on building up its “communicative capacity” as part of its campaign for generating soft 188 Susan Leong power (Zhao 2013: 19). Unlike hard power, which is based on economic and military strength, soft power’s primary currencies are a nation’s values, culture, policies, and institutions (Nye 1990: 31). In recent years one of the outcomes of the Chinese state’s intense build-up of Chinese soft power (H. Wang 2011; J. Wang 2006) is a robust program to engage with the Chinese diaspora. After all, as Sun (2010: 126) puts it, former Chinese nationals like PBMs form a “ready-made channel” for the media content and communication expertise initiated, produced, and/or financed by the Chinese state. Indeed, as Alonso and Oiarzarbal (2010: 2) argue, the Internet is not only “the first window or point of informational entry into their new destinations” but also the “new interactive link back to their homelands.” As such, by virtue of the double connectivity to home and host nations the Internet facilitates, the Internet’snature as a space for migrants is undeniably one of competing, overlapping, and intersecting “hopes, desires, dreams, frustrations, and beginnings” (2). Understanding the effects of these multiplicities on PBMs is core to the project.

Chinese social media and migration Studies speciﬁcally about migrants to Australian (Cunningham and Sinclair 2000; Sun 2002, 2006) and beyond (King and Wood 2001; Madianou 2005; Shi 2005; Panagakos and Horst 2006) are well known, including the earlier investigations of online diasporic or virtual communities and websites (Adams and Ghose 2003; Mitra 1997a, 1997b, 2005). Given the merits of social media, it is not surprising that migrants are avid users of such technologies. For the price of a broadband Internet connection and a smart phone, the barriers that prevent migrants from keeping in touch with those in the home nation on matters great and trivial—geographic distance, the costs of long- distance telephone calls and postage, as well as the delayed gratiﬁcation of snail mail—are largely negated. Yet, scholarship on migrants’ social media use is only now emerging, and most researchers remain focused on English- language social media (Madianou and Miller 2012; Dekker and Engbersen 2013; Bravo 2012; Lee 2011; Alonso and Oiarzabal 2010; Oiarzabal and Reips 2012; Cao, Pauleen, and Bathurst 2012). Dekker and Engbersen suggest that social media facilitate migration in four ways:

First, they enhance the possibilities of maintaining strong ties with family and friends. Second, they address weak ties that are relevant to organizing the process of migration and integration. Third, they establish a new infrastructure consisting of latent ties. Fourth, they oﬀer a rich source of insider knowledge on migration that is discrete and unoﬃcial. (Dekker and Engbersen 2013: 1)

Chen and Choi’s (2011) study of mainland Chinese migrants’ reliance on “computer-mediated social support” in Singapore seems to support Dekker Provisional Business Migrants 189 and Engbersen’s findings.13 However, although some of the more recent research on migrant use of social media mentions other language platforms like the Dutch Hyves and the Russian Vkontakte and Odnoklassniki (Dekker and Engbersen 2013: 8, 10), few scholars mention the Chinese Internet. Even those who do so fight shy of social media and study instead online forums, IPTV, and online film distribution (Chan 2010; Sun et al. 2011). This suggests there to be aspects of Chinese social media that require a different approach. For now I want to offer two immediate reasons for the paucity of research on Chinese social media use by migrants. First, for the most part the major Chinese social media platforms that enjoy mass participation have not been established for as long as their English- language counterparts. For example, Sina Weibo started in 2009 and Tencent WeChat in 2011. Not enough time has lapsed for proper data collection to occur nor, importantly, have many data collation interfaces such as Twapper- Keeper (an early and free online text mining interface for English-language microblogging service Twitter) been available. While some efforts have been made to create data mining tools for Chinese social media, none of the resultant interfaces are freely available at full functionality.14 Others, like Weiboscope,15 work more as a monitoring mechanism than as a full-fledged interface for data mining. For whatever reason, Chinese social media remain resistant to open data mining techniques and interfaces that facilitated early big data research into English-language social media. Second, due to the perceived democratizing and political impact of social media, the attention of Chinese social media researchers is dominated by investigations of censorship and freedom of speech, and their potential to challenge the status quo and the party-state at the civil society and grassroots level (Bamman, O’Connor, and Smith 2012; Sullivan 2012, 2014; Fu, Chan, and Chau 2013; Fu and Chau 2013; Jiang 2012; Marolt 2011; Tai 2013; Yong 2011). This fierce spotlight leaves little room for everyday areas of concern to do with Chinese social media to attract research attention. Among the few that have won through are research on the use of social media by youths (Wallis 2011; T. Wang 2014) and migrant workers (Zhang 2013) in China. What follows next is a discussion around three observations drawn from the interviews with PBMs in Australia. It is hoped that this will prove to be a useful addition to the stock of knowledge on everyday Chinese social media use.

Three early observations

Media fluidity Two types of media fluidity have been observed in how PBMs understand the delineations between the forms of media they use, on the one hand, and in the continuation of social media practices established in China. The following section addresses each in turn. RG16 is the first interlocutor for the project. Just past his mid-fifties, RG is erudite and well versed in business, though he 190 Susan Leong confesses to an overriding interest in the finer things in life. Older than the average PBM, RG is on the cusp of starting another new business to satisfy the requirements of his newly acquired business migrant visa. Unencumbered by family and the concerns of an ongoing business, RG has the most time to spare of all those interviewed, and spends much of it accumulating information. Walk into his home and you see two television sets in adjoining areas, a portable radio set on the table, and outside the sliding doors a large satellite dish, poised to received the latest content from China. Quizzed on why he has two televisions within meters of each other, RG reveals that one is set up for China/Chinese content, specifically news, while the other is reserved for Aus- tralian television broadcasts—so he can improve his English language skills. RG explains his resolve to put in the groundwork as a result of having already “paid his school fees” (learnt his lessons the hard way through a number of earlier aborted attempts at setting up a business suitable for PR in Australia). Just before the interview commenced, the radio was tuned to a program broadcasting in Chinese, and throughout the interview RG peeked at notifi- cations on his mobile phone and glanced at Chinese newspapers strewn on the table. His media literacy was obvious from the manner in which he slid between old and new media forms, picking up information, business intelligence, contextual knowledge, and language skills in turn and at will. RG utilizes a familiar media repertoire as a bridge for understanding the new space he now inhabits in Perth, ameliorating the sense of conditional belonging through the dexterous use of media from a range of national, linguistic, and regional Chinese sources. Such fluidity is also evident in how the other two interlocutors from China, BZ, a highly successful businessman, and TG, about to set up on her own, keep abreast of affairs in China. Soft-spoken BZ is in his late thirties or early forties and has spent the last ten years building a business that is today turning over tens of millions. BZ joined his wife after she completed her tertiary studies at a local university, entering Australia as a temporary resident. Within two years of employment here, BZ decided entrepreneurship to be the better pathway for him, although his prior professional experience was in the Chinese media industry. I first met him at a business networking event where he was delivering a talk on his experience as a migrant and where, despite his low-key business demeanor, his success was broadly acknowledged by a roomful of peers. During the interview, this very hands-on business owner was interrupted several times by workers from the shop floor seeking on-the-fly decisions about deliveries, packaging, and even machinery settings. A golf bag bulging with clubs sat conspicuously in the corner of his highly utilitarian office, and when asked about it, BZ candidly revealed that he played golf in order to cultivate business contacts rather than for the love of the game. TG is a skilled migrant who also started off as a temporary resident. In the 1990s she and her spouse left China for continental Europe in pursuit of postgraduate education. TB arrived in Perth in the late 1990s and worked for many years in the tertiary education sector. Today she is the very busy mother Provisional Business Migrants 191 of a primary school-age son and is turning to self-employment as a means of combining work and family commitments. In contrast to RG, neither BZ nor TG spend much time watching or listening to Australian television or radio, but they readily name China-focused web portals such as Sina.com, Sohu.com, and WenxueCity.com as trusted, everyday sources of information. Whereas TG has the advantage of tertiary education, the fourth interlocutor, NT, reveals that she and her husband chose Australia over the United States as their next destination because the entry requirements placed much less emphasis on formal qualifications and more on business skills and background. In her late forties, NT has twice been a migrant, having left China with her husband over twenty years ago to seek their fortunes in South Africa. The couple made the difficult decision to migrate once more due to growing fears for their family’s safety as Chinese business owners in Johannesburg. However, her elderly parents, who had lived with them for over two decades in South Africa, chose to return to China. At the time of the interview, NT’s husband was unable to participate as he was still in transit from South Africa. NT and her husband have two children, aged late teens to early twenties, who were born and bred in South Africa. Both children speak Chinese but due to their upbringing in South Africa are also equally at home with English. NT explained that the determination to make a success of life in Australia had its foundations in the couple’s perceptions of the life opportunities afforded their children here as compared to China. She and her husband believed that without sufficient grounding in Chinese cultural contexts and ways of life, neither child would thrive in the hyper-competitive Chinese environment. Unlike her children, who have quickly slipped into consuming Australian-based media, NT still derives most of her entertainment and news via the Internet from China-based sources such as Shanghai Television and Zhejiang Television. NT is clearly competent in the use of both online and offline media and has a grasp of English sufficient for business purposes; yet when asked which sources she utilized to locate a suitable business to set up in Australia, she describes a year spent scouring the local Chinese community newspapers for opportunities that were a good fit with the couple’s business expertise, skills set, and capital reserves. The blended use of social media with broadcast media as well as older features of the web—what might be called “Web 1.0” applications— seems to be a common practice. This is the first kind of media fluidity observed in the social media practices of Chinese PBMs. While academia divides media into various categories for heuristic purposes, it is clear that users do not suffer from the same restrictions. This is important to bear in mind as the research progresses since it raises questions as to how social media research might be distinguished from other types of media research. The second type of media fluidity has to do with the manner in which users switch from one device to another when accessing media—from the television set to the laptop to the digital radio. Of the various devices used, the smart phone seems close to ubiquitous. Indeed, in 2013, 81 percent of Internet users in China went online using mobile phones, while 69.7 and 44.1 percent used 192 Susan Leong desktop and notebook computers, respectively. This represents a 6.5 percent growth in the use of mobile phones as Internet access devices over the course of 12 months (China Internet Network Information Center 2014: 29–30). Additionally, nearly everyone I have spoken to in Australia on this project accesses some Chinese social media on their smart phones. The affordability and portability of smart phones is clearly integral to the convenience and immediacy typically sought after in social media. This ties in with the dominance of smart phones over desktop and notebook computers as Internet access devices, a key trend of Internet usage within China. This, then, is another kind of fluidity in Chinese social media practice, imposed on those who migrate by the communication practices and technologies that prevail in the conversational space of those who remain in China. The two kinds of media fluidity intersect because certain media content and sources work better over different media access devices. For example, as an instant messaging application WeChat works optimally on smart phones, whereas online television and video sites obviously work better on larger-sized screens. Whether all or part of these two kinds of media fluidity can be put down to personal preference, an issue of marrying content to a suitable device, or other reasons remains to be seen.

WeChat not Weibo: from public microblogs to personal messaging The second observation about Chinese PBMs’ social media practices is that there has been a move away from microblogging to instant messaging. Asked specifically about what social media he utilizes daily, RG confesses to having more or less abandoned the microblogging platform Weibo in favor of instant messaging apps like WeChat. For RG and his associates, the immediacy that WeChat fosters is vital to the hurly burly of international business. The string of WeChat features includes the ability to share and send photos, videos, text, and video-chat with a click or two between individuals and groups. RG also likes the ability to be selective about whom he connects with, which he compares favorably to the messy, massive numbers and volume of traffic and content on Weibo. For like the microblogging platforms, WeChat also has the facility to host groups of up to a hundred, but the crucial difference is that potential members have to be invited by other members (Bischoff 2014). So only those in the know can introduce others into WeChat groups, and the person who starts a group retains the ability to moderate discussions. This gatekeeping of exclusivity mimics digitally some of the insider/outsider dynamics that abound in business circles. BZ and TG are both beginner users of WeChat, but already it seems the immediacy that WeChat allows combines with the intimacy of voice and video to facilitate regular catch-ups with family, friends, and, in BZ’scase, maintaining extant business relationships in China and making discreet enquiries into prospective business deals with others. Both BZ and TG shy away from Weibo, citing inconvenience and lack of time, respectively, as reasons. Of all the interlocutors, NT is perhaps the most typical of those who came through the older visa scheme. Having successfully obtained a provisional visa Provisional Business Migrants 193 in 2010, NT and her husband spent two years living apart, with NT and the children based in Perth to start up and run their new business here, while her husband stayed behind in South Africa, flying to and fro to maintain the semblance of being a family. Thus, a major reason for the choice of Perth vis- à-vis the east coast cities of Australia was the relatively shorter commute from the west coast of Australia to the African continent. During these two years of living on separate continents, the couple’s main means of communication was via WeChat. This speaks, of course, to the personal nature of the communication, but is also a result of the capability to record voice messages, share photographs, and make phone calls that is built into WeChat. NT also uses it to communicate with her aged parents back in Shanghai. Like BZ, NT is a very hands-on business owner and she jumped up from the table several times during our interview to serve customers in her retail business. Given the notoriously grueling hours, I was puzzled as to why she decided to go into the food business following previous involvement in fashion retail, with its more conventional business hours. NT relates that when negotiations to purchase a supermarket—their original plan—fell through, the couple felt compelled to quickly settle for the less ideal but still feasible food outlet. Working on the business seven days a week has not left much room for media or space to pick up on new media and cultural literacies beyond those necessary to business, so like BZ and TG, NT has had little exposure to Australian media, online or offline. Time constraints and the uncertainty they induce come across very strongly as an undercurrent in the experiences of PBMs. Although all four interlocutors entered Australia as temporary rather than permanent residents, there is a palpable difference in their experiences based on their respective expectations of what time alone (in the case of BZ’s family reunion and TG’s skilled migrant visas) will bring and what their own entrepreneurial success or failure within external time constraints may bring. Of the obstacles she had to overcome to run a business and bring it up to a level that would qualify the family for PR, NT names the brevity of time between hearing of the award of the visa and the start of the countdown of the allocated four years as among the greatest. Fair or not, the assumption is that successful PBM applicants are poised and ready to move almost immediately upon receiving the visa. As NT explained, insufficient consideration is given to how long it is likely to take for business owners to transfer their operating bases and then search for and locate viable new businesses. Given that business migration visas typically bear age restrictions (fifty-five years being generally the cut-off age), the move to Perth was viewed as the couple’s last chance to establish a viable and secure base for their children’s future. Temporal constraints have an added dimension for RG because he is now past the eligible age for a second attempt at migration through other visa categories. He is determined to succeed, and toward that end is assiduously cultivating the right business networks via WeChat and other means. The defection from microblogging to instant messaging is reflected in the user figures, which in December 2013 indicate 431 million users of mobile 194 Susan Leong instant messaging in China compared to 281 million Sina Weibo users. The reasons for this decline cited in official reports include dissatisfaction with the limited potential for developing profitability on the microblog platform and ferocious competition from other platforms and applications incorporating social networking features (China Internet Network Information Center 2014: 47, 52). However, it is worthwhile noting that in September 2013, having rolled out a series of control measures such as real-name registration and five- strike rules over the years, the Chinese state brought out a law stipulating that any microblogger who posts defamatory comments that are visited by more than 5,000 users or are reposted more than 500 times can be jailed for up to three years, if found guilty (BBC 2013). The arrest of one high-profile microblogger, venture capitalist Charles Xue (better known online by his alias, Xue Manzi), allegedly for visiting prostitutes in August 2013 (Moore 2014), and the jail sentence imposed on another, Qin Zhihui (Qin Huohuo), after being tried for rumor mongering (Shih and Lee 2014), was proof that this clampdown was in earnest. Hence, some of the discontinuity in PBMs’ choice—and use—of Chinese social media in Australia can be laid at the door of socio-political fluctuations in China. The move away from microblogging to instant messaging described above can be explained quite simply as a result of the inclusion of newer, more attractive features in WeChat. It can also be read as a retreat from the open slather of public and generally anonymous chatter to closed and more private conversations among qualified circles. Whether this observed shift toward instant messaging is due to fatigue with the tiresome culling of clutter, the need to circumvent punitive censorship and retain a semblance of confidentiality, or part of a general move away from one form of participatory media to another warrants further investigation. Given that social media research still emphasizes Weibo over other forms of Chinese social media, this is a significant trend in research on social media and migration that needs to be addressed.

A China-Chinese Internet? The last observation about PBMs’ Chinese social media practices concerns the possible existence of a distinct “China-Chinese” mediascape rather than a broad Chinese Internet. This observation springs from a comment by TG, who mentioned that she has had difficulty in the past comprehending both the context and idiomatic usage of Chinese. She elaborates with an anecdote about her puzzlement at reading a Hong Kong newspaper in the early 1990s while on the Hong Kong airline carrier Cathay Pacific: “While I recognized the individual characters and grasped many of the phrases, it was difficult to understand what was being written about.” She adds: “The writing had words like la and za at the end of sentences. Things were much improved after 1997.”17 The subtext to this comment is a reluctance, noted by Sun (2002: 100), to think of overseas Chinese or members of the Greater China diaspora as authentic Chinese. Asked to expand on this point, TG clarifies that she Provisional Business Migrants 195 regards overseas Chinese to be culturally Chinese because they share many common customs, but they are nevertheless not “China-Chinese.” I use the term here for want of one that accurately denotes the nuanced distinction between the Chinese phrases Zhongguo ren (people from China) and Huaren (people of Chinese heritage who may or may not have any ties with China). TG’s point is that while of Chinese heritage (Huaren), the denizens of Greater China are not from China (Zhongguo ren). One way to approach this nuance and set of frictions is through the distinction between ethnic media and homeland media, where, in reference to this study, “ethnic media” might be described as Chinese media produced by Australian- Chinese for local consumption, and “homeland media” as “unadulterated and unedited ‘pure’” media content produced in China for a homogeneous domestic Chinese audience (Yin 2013: 4). Produced for Australian-Chinese consumption, ethnic media (despite TG’s concession of cultural similarity) sit outside the “cultural repertoire” of contemporary mainland Chinese migrants (8). As such, it is not surprising that contemporary mainland Chinese migrants should eschew ethnic media for homeland media. Yang (2012) contends that it is possible to speak of a Chinese Internet in the same way that reference is made to American television as a distinct cultural form. He argues that such a space is uniquely Chinese because of the histories of the nation and its media practices that foreground the understanding and experiences of its users. I suggest that by this logic it is more accurate to speak of a China-Chinese Internet than a Chinese Internet. After all, the histories of China and its media practices are specific to those who have visceral experience of life in China. Second-hand experience through oral, written, or visual accounts is hardly the same. If we accept the notion of a China-Chinese Internet, does a China-Chinese social mediascape naturally follow? The possibility of such distinctions raises doubts about the viability of a pan-Chinese diaspora spanning generations of migration, nations, and linguistic divides. Conditional belonging is an experience that PBMs are willing to risk for Australian PR. In that sense they are no different from other migrants of any category. What further price the initial years of conditional belonging may extract from PBMs is unclear and a matter for follow-up interviews. Queried about her current sense of belonging, NT asserts that her Chinese roots will never be severed, citing her parents in Shanghai as among the reasons she believes her ties to China are deep and strong. However, she does admit that her children feel very differently, having few affective ties to the extended family in China and even less interest in Chinese culture. When asked about his sense of belonging, like NT, the urbane BZ declares that his heart remains thoroughly Chinese even if he is bodily in Australia. At the same time, although he is loath to admit it, with his “focus” on his immediate family in Perth, his sense of belonging might be shifting. While he maintains he can return to China “if necessary,” BZ optimistically concludes that unlike previous generations of migrants from China, contemporary Chinese migrants 196 Susan Leong can maintain ties and relationships with the homeland because of the affordability and convenience of connectivity facilitated by mobile phones, free IM apps like WeChat, and satellite dishes.

Conclusion According to Williams and Balaz (2012), uncertainty in migration comes from partial knowledge, a lack of tacit knowledge, and the unpredictability of outcomes. Migrants to Australia can do little about the institutionalized unpredictability built into Australia’s migration policies, but the common remedy to an absence of adequate knowledge is to seek information. As Dekker and Engbersen (2013) argue, insider and informal knowledge is where social media excel over other forms of media. This, then, might be where we may find answers to the question of how research on social media and other forms of media can be distinguished from each other. Not so much in when or what forms of social media are used, but rather why and how they are used, and what kinds of information, benefits, and relationships ensue from their use. Chinese PBMs in search of answers naturally turn to the media sources they are most at home with rather than those that are unknown to and untested by them. It is my contention that because PBMs are subject to the host state’s temporal discipline, they are motivated to use social media stra- tegically to manage their uncertainty. The two questions that follow are: what kinds of attitudes and media practices would such a situation engender; and what are the possible consequences if PBMs continue to draw their references from homeland media and fashion their practices within Chinese social media space even as they embark on life in Australia? The observations drawn from this pilot project indicate that the intimate, immediate, and everyday level of connectivity that Chinese social media facilitate allows for a number of possibilities. The first and most obvious is the emergence of the “connected migrant” (Diminescu, cited in Lee 2011: 1077), one who is “absent from integration into the host country” even as they are “absent from home.” This is an outcome consistent with the traditional understanding of long-distance nationalism as detrimental to the project of national cohesion. It argues that extant attitudes, practices, and concerns of the homeland will so dominate that they leave little or no space for new practices and ideas born of life in Australia to filter through into migrants’ social imaginaries. Lee extends from this thesis to introduce the notion of “virtual migrant[s]”—so called because “[t]heir physical locality can be irrelevant for their identity, as they continue to participate in the various dimensions of their home community, regardless of where they (or other people they grew up with) currently live” (Lee 2011: 1084). Immersed in and hooked live to matters trivial, profound, everyday, and global in China, the virtual migrant leaves that nation’s shores but remains continuously connected to home. Equally, if the experience of earlier generations of Chinese migrants and research on second-generation migrants are anything to go by (Louie 2006), Provisional Business Migrants 197 there is a chance that the customs and cultures of the homeland will yield eventually to the lived experience of Australia. Certainly, speaking of her primary-school-age child, TG seems resigned to the inevitable shedding of Chinese ways and customs, saying that she does not require her school-age son to concern himself with current affairs in China even if fluency in Chinese is a cherished part of cultural maintenance. This, I submit, is where the frictions between the different generations of Chinese migration hold great promise as departure points for investigations that build on this research project. A comparative examination of the media practices and attitudes of various generations of Chinese business migrants will go some way toward exploring whether the continued connectivity that Chinese social media open up today sets contemporary migrant experience apart. Future work must also be done to define a theoretical framework that encompasses the pressures that homeland diaspora engagement policies exert alongside the constraints that ensue from host nation migration policies.

Notes 1 This was followed the next year by India becoming the top source nation, but the trend is clear: the United Kingdom’s position as mother country has been usurped by Asian nations. 2 See www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/social-media (accessed October 14, 2014). 3 The Business Talent subclass 132 visa is the only business migration visa that allows for direct permanent residence, but it rests on a different set of criteria in which the emphasis moves from the personal assets of the applicant to those of the business. For more details, see www.immi.gov.au/Visas/Pages/132.aspx (accessed October 14, 2014). 4 See www.immi.gov.au/Visas/Pages/188.aspx for more details (accessed October 14, 2014). 5 All of the interviews were conducted over a span of six months between late 2013 and early 2014. I employed a method much like narrative interviewing, with a view to facilitating the “generation of detailed ‘stories’ of experience [rather than] gen- eralized descriptions” (Riessman 2006: 190). On average each of these “evolving conversation[s]” (Mishler, cited in Riessman 2006: 190) lasted sixty minutes, but the longest ran to well over two hours. All the interlocutors mentioned here are from mainland China and have been temporary residents in Australia at some stage, although not all hold provisional business migration visas. However, all are either running businesses in Western Australia, or are in the process of establishing a business or have plans to do so. The majority of the interviews were conducted in Chinese, although English was employed on occasion. I am responsible for all translations (and any errors). 6 The figures cited in this section are compiled from a combination of two sources: Productivity Commission (2006) and Department of Immigration and Border Protection (2014b). 7 See, for example, Z. Wang (2013) and Chang and Zhang (2013). 8 Incidents like the industrial pollution of drinking water supplies in Lanzhou in April 2014 add fuel to these fears. See Xinhua (2014). 9 See, for example, how Portugal (Mendonca 2014) and Cyprus (Chang and Zhang 2013) have put residence in their countries on offer to those bringing foreign capital. 198 Susan Leong 10 See www.immi.gov.au/Visas/Pages/188.aspx (accessed October 14, 2014). 11 These three streams are: business innovation, business investment, and significant investor. The innovation stream requires residency of “a total of two years in the four years immediately before”; the investment stream requirement is “one year in the two years immediately before”; and the significant investor stream requires the visa holder to be in residence for “120 days, or the equivalent of 40 days per year the visa was held. See www.immi.gov.au/Visas/Pages/188.aspx (under the “Points Test” tab) (accessed October 14, 2014). 12 See www.immi.gov.au/Visas/Pages/160-165.aspx (accessed October 14, 2014). 13 We can assume, since all of Chen and Cho’s telephone interviews were conducted in Chinese, that their study was based on Chinese Internet users. Unfortunately, as their study does not enumerate which platforms participants used to seek computer- mediated social support, it is not possible to tell whether social media were indeed separately categorized. 14 See, for example, www.weiboreach.com and www.surroundapp.asia (accessed October 30, 2014). 15 See http://weiboscope.jmsc.hku.hk/ (accessed October 14, 2014). 16 For reasons of confidentiality, I have used two-letter pseudonyms for denoting individual interviewees. 17 Although Cantonese is written in the standard Chinese script, many of its idioms, intonations, and grammar are distinct to Cantonese speakers, so its spoken and written forms are not readily understood by native Chinese speakers who do not speak Cantonese. In 2009 the Hong Kong government tried to bridge this gap in communication with the publication of the Hong Kong Supplementary Character Set, which lists and standardizes 5,009 characters specifically for use in the Hong Kong context. This is available at: www.ogcio.gov.hk/en/business/tech_promotion/ ccli/download_area/document.htm (accessed October 30, 2014).

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Jolynna Sinanan

Introduction On the corner of Richard Street and Madras Trace in the town of “El Mirador”1 there is a small Chinese restaurant called Jin Shan (Gold Mountain). Behind the iron security gate is an open plan dining area with redwood chairs and dining tables, a large fish tank at the entrance, and some comfortable couches where customers can wait for their take-away orders. Behind a counter with another paneled security gate, Vivian Zhang is taking customers’ orders. She is around twenty-four years old, dressed practically though still feminine in leggings and a long pink fitted t-shirt with a print of the Eiffel Tower on it. On the counter is her iPhone and her laptop. She keeps the laptop with her and her more expensive iPad upstairs in the apartment above the shop, where she lives with her husband and uncle. After the customers leave and the restaurant is quiet for the afternoon, Vivian will call her mother-in-law, who lives in her home town of Taishan in Guangdong province, in the south of China. Her mother-in-law has been looking after Vivian’s two-year-old for the last year, while Vivian and her husband have been working in El Mirador to save some money and send remittances home. Vivian will next see her daughter in six months’ time, when she will bring her to Trinidad. As one of the main global diasporas, the Chinese have had a long history in the Caribbean (Chan 2010; Emmer 1990; Lee-Loy 2003; Look Lai 2005; H. Johnson 1987). Yet there is little research available on more recent trends in Chinese migration to the Caribbean, and to Trinidad in particular, during the post-Mao reform area. This chapter discusses the more recent trend of migration enabled by post-Mao reforms—in particular, from Guangdong province to a rural Trinidadian town. The themes most commonly addressed in the literature on Chinese emigration in the 1990s are ones of identity, memory, assimilation, cultural negotiation, and transnational networks (Ma and Cartier 2003; Kuhn 2008; Tan, Storey, and Zimmerman 2007; Davis 2009). Through an ethnographic study, I discuss the intersection of new media and xin yimin (new migrants). Communication between migrants and their hometowns, through video calling and social media platforms such as Skype and QQ, sheds lights on the discrepancy between the ideal state of family 204 Jolynna Sinanan relations and actual family relationships—relationships that are largely defined by distance. Also, although new media allow migrants to be more connected to people at home, they are also connected to home through various “mediascapes” and the circulation of Chinese media through television, music, and films. This raises the issue of the experience of place: how much do new Chinese migrants “live” in Trinidad? I argue that new media are used to spatially navigate lived relationships with people at home, as well as to assist them in being a migrant away from home, thus contributing to the literature on translocality. This chapter has emerged from twelve months of fieldwork with the Global Social Media Impact Study.2 In that period, I have spent time with members of three families (some individuals being related to each other via extended family connections) at two sites: El Mirador, their host destination; and Taishan, their hometown in China. El Mirador is a town in one of the main agricultural regions in Trinidad, with a wider population of 18,000. It has a single high street with shops and food outlets (including five Chinese restaurants) and is a service hub for the surrounding villages; a substantial number of its residents work in larger cities elsewhere in Trinidad. The Chinese new migrant population is small—fewer than a hundred people—and most xin yimin live and work in the capital city (Port of Spain), the second-largest city (San Fernando), or in larger towns. Apart from xin yimin, there are no other groups of migrants in the area. For this component of the research I concentrated on following the experiences of just these three new migrant families across one year, to better understand the relationship between kinship and migration in more depth. The relationship to Trinidad and Taishan over the year has changed to varying degrees for each of the family members I spent time with, and the changes in their relationship to home and host destination are also reflected in the changes in their media practices across the year.

Chinese emigration in the 1990s Chinese emigration in the 1990s was enabled by a set of push and pull factors, most notably, the opening of emigration policies and economic globalization (Kuhn 2008; Fan 1999). Migration from Guangdong in particular has been enabled by a variety of factors. This province in the south of China has always been a trade hub, due to its proximity to Hong Kong (Delgado 2012; Ma and Lin 1993), and more recently has had a reputation for being “one step ahead” in China’s reform (Liao and Wei 2012: 73). State development policies in the post-Mao era have targeted coastal areas, resulting in the attraction of further foreign investment but creating disparities in growth between coastal and inland regions (Fan 1999: 959). Guangdong became a magnet for migrants in industry and business, which reflected the efforts of state policies that enhanced foreign investment (Fan 1999: 970; Ma and Lin 1993: 590). A flow-on effect has been an expansion of the middle class, which is better educated and more highly skilled, with the province having the highest level of interprovincial Xin Yimin 205 mobility (Fan 1999: 974). Ma and Lin (1993: 603) also see the increase in emigration from Guangdong as a result of the state’s relaxed control over the movement of rural populations rather than a direct consequence of active government programs. The desire to move to more urban areas with higher-paying work was a push factor for emigrants from Guangdong, and Hong Kong was a key destination for international emigrants, which also aided in increasing networks to migrating further abroad (Kwok and Ames 1995; Fan 1996). The more recent group of Chinese emigrants are known as xin yimin,or“new migrants” (Chan 2010; Kuhn 2008; Liu 2005). Chan (2010: 226) describes xin yimin as Chinese citizens who emigrated after 1979 with the beginning of economic reforms to the country. There are four categories of “new” migrants: students, professionals, chain migrants (who join relatives living abroad), and illegal migrants (Chan 2010: 226; Liu 2005: 291). The key differentiation between new migrants and earlier waves of Chinese emigration is that previously, people who migrated abroad were low-skilled or unskilled, in contrast to xin yimin, who have benefited from the flow-on effects of economic reforms, such as better education. Kuhn (2008: 322) describes them as the products of “new China”—more urbanized and more mobile. Chan’s study also looks at the various uses of communication technologies by new migrants, and she argues that as well as being more educated and mobile than previous Chinese emigrants, new migrants are also more tech savvy and increasingly use resources such as the Internet for information that influences their decisions to move abroad and in their host destination. Yet, the most significant “pull” factor for chain migrants in Trinidad is the presence of their better-established relatives in business and entrepreneurship. New media are used more in the context of living in the host destination than in enabling the transition to the host destination. Chain migration to El Mirador, where most Chinese migrants work in restaurants, reflects observations of the age-old tradition of Chinese networks, where business, entrepreneurship, and principles of Chinese commerce are inseparable from family and kinship (Liu 2005: 298; Pan 1994: 242). These networks usually originate in the same hometown, and Liu (2005: 294) adds that it is not surprising that new migration also reflects previous patterns of migration originating from the same southern provinces such as Guangdong. Many overseas Chinese still feel an attachment to their qiaoxiang (traditional hometowns) and so, when they move, tend to join others overseas who are from the same place, to have a shared sense of culture (Liu 2005: 299; Hsu 2000: 293). Liu (2005: 292) further says that new migrants still consider themselves huaqiao—Chinese sojourners who are only living overseas temporarily and whose cultural orientation is still toward China. They had originally intended to migrate for a short time, but eventually settled (Wang 2003: 3). Yen (1998: 102) attributes the success of Chinese sojourners—and their eventual decision to settle—to a tight hierarchy of family and kinship and a business ideology of reciprocity where employers and employees are family members who are managed with a mix of kinship obligation and professionalism. These descriptions from the 206 Jolynna Sinanan literature reviewed also resonate with the data I collected throughout my own fieldwork. To narrow the focus of the study further, Vivian and her extended family in El Mirador emigrated from Taishan, two hours southeast of Guangzhou, the capital of Guangdong province. Taishan has been the main source of new chain migration to Trinidad, reflecting the general observation that chain migration is based on patronage and kinship relations, where one family sets up a business in a destination, then employs extended family members or gives loans of cash or other resources to extended family to set up their own businesses (Delgado 2012). Taishan’s qiaoxiang population living overseas outnumbered the local Taishanese population in 1988, although, with the return of Hong Kong and Macao to Chinese rule in 1997 and 1999 respectively, the number of Taishanese locals increased compared to those living overseas (Hsu 2000: 308–309). Hsu (308–309) emphasizes that Taishan has a particularly strong qiaoxiang culture, as many Taishanese do return home and further invest in the development of their hometowns through patronage. Indeed, in one of the up-market restaurants in the centre of Taishan, on a weekday at lunch time, Vivian can point out at least eight middle-aged local customers whose relatives she knows to be living in parts of Trinidad. Emi- gration to Trinidad among these Taishanese kinship networks is based in Port of Spain, San Fernando, and, to a lesser extent, the town of El Mirador, where Vivian’s relatives have had a shorter history, as Vivian explained:

I think the ﬁrst one to go from Taishan is a man who went to Trinidad to do some business. When he went back [to Taishan], he wanted to bring a wife—she is a cousin of my aunty, who was making dresses in Taishan. They married, and he took her to Port of Spain and they opened some shops that sell Chinese things. They live in Westmoorings3 now. They were the ﬁrst ones and that was 1994, 1995, something like that.

Hsu (2000: 308) also explains that Taishanese specifically have a strong sense of local attachment because of a history of sojourners, or those who emigrate for economic advancement. The ideal destination in which to live, work, and ultimately raise children is the United States. In my interview with Vivian she said that she doesn’t want to live in Trinidad permanently; when her daughter is school-aged she wants to migrate again to Toronto, and then to the United States. She sees migrating to Trinidad as an impermanent stage, on the way to migrating to these more developed, Western countries. Fong (2004: 18) describes how migrants returning to China from overseas, particularly from Western countries, occupy a higher status and conspicuously consume more branded and luxury goods because of the benefits of the exchange rate with the Chinese yuan. Over the past five years, the Trinidadian dollar has been relatively equal to the yuan, but the Zhang family have found the cost of living to be lower in Trinidad. Migrating from one developing economy to another, although it Xin Yimin 207 enables new migrants opportunities for economic mobility, does not hold the same prestige and status as migrating to a foreign country that is “Western.”

The Chinese in the Caribbean The history of the Chinese in Trinidad is a well-documented one, with the earliest Chinese migrants arriving between 1853 and 1866, alongside policies that brought indentured East Indians from South Asia (O’Young 2000: 4). At that time, Chinese migration to the British West Indies, Trinidad, and British Guiana was the third highest in the region, after Cuba and Peru (Look Lai 2005). Considered an alternative source of labor, the approximately 2,600 indentured Chinese sought passage after periods of famine and conflict in the south of China, most notably, Guangdong province, which established a long relationship of Chinese migration to the Caribbean along the trade route through Macau (K. Johnson 2006; Millett 1993). Nearly all the laborers were men, and they did not have the same attachment to land as the East Indians; several pooled together savings to stage commercial ventures at the end of their obligated indentureship. The first wave of Chinese shifted from working in agriculture to working in markets, selling agricultural produce, opening small shops, and giving credit. Because of their desire to establish themselves in trade, the Chinese—then as now—are mostly concentrated in urban and semi-urban areas to the north of Trinidad (Look Lai 2005; O’Young 2000). It was typical for shopkeepers to bring cousins over to establish other ventures, and as there were very few Chinese women, a large number of men married local, mostly African, women, although a few sought to bring wives from China. Several of the initial Cantonese population were also from Taishan, and in 1939, the “Toy Shan Association” was established in Port of Spain as a cultural and community centre (K. Johnson 2006; Millett 1993). Today there are no fewer than six Chinese cultural associations in the country. In the early 1900s, Chinese shops were a visible minority in urban streets. Kim Johnson (2006: 57–8) outlines the daily rhythms of life as being largely confined to the workspace of shop selling, where shopkeepers were separated by thick bars from customers—especially if there were rum shops nearby, as these tended to fuel assaults and robberies. Language was a barrier, but locally born Chinese were able to enter schools and started to integrate into the emerging society. Many converted to Christianity, at least nominally, in order to enter mission schools, as non-Christians were denied an education. By the 1930s the first-generation Trinidadian-Chinese had started to play masquerade in the annual festival of Carnival, and by the 1960s there were prominent Chinese-Creole carnival bandleaders and designers (Chang 1998; Ho 1989). During the Black Power uprising at the end of the 1960s, another two thousand Chinese emigrated to Canada and the United States, with few from that generation returning to China. The first Chinese were brought over to Trinidad as indentured laborers, a different experience from that of other diasporic Chinese. This fact may help 208 Jolynna Sinanan to explain why the Chinese have never been considered central to the development of colonial society in Trinidad and have remained peripheral to economic life and political consciousness (Look Lai 2005: 55). The Chinese are often portrayed as outsiders: quiet, peaceful, and industrious, on the one hand (Lee-Loy 2003: 206), and—stereotypically—inscrutable, clever, and preoccupied with money and profit, on the other (Look Lai 2005: 73). Because of the history of Trinidad’s political economy, which fueled benign antagonism between Afro- and Indo-Trinidadians, the Chinese community are also perceived as being successful and elusive, culturally autonomous people (Millett 1993: 38–39). The Chinese in Trinidad seem to have always seen themselves as temporary and sojourners, where being/living in Trinidad is actually working in Trinidad, and it is the sense of cultural intactness that is most noted in local perceptions. Today, the Chinese, both new migrants and those from the first wave of migration, no longer live in a society that is “half made,” and there is a much sharper distinction between the meanings of “Trini- dadian” and “outsider” (K. Johnson 2006; Meighoo 2003). New migrants have an ambivalent relationship with Trinidad and home, wanting to reap the economic benefits of transnational labor while remaining outside their destination society to some extent. Between 2002 and 2004, Trinidad saw 972 migrants from Guangdong, with a slight increase in numbers each year during that period (K. Johnson 2006: 158). It is still too soon to assert whether or not the new wave of migrants will remain in Trinidad only temporarily.

Chinese immigrants in the contemporary context: the case of El Mirador With this background context in mind, this section provides an ethnographic study that illustrates the intersecting uses of new media by new migrants. As well as platforms such as Skype, QQ, and Viber, which are used to communicate with family and friends “at home” and are largely facilitated by the affordances of 3G plans and WiFi on smartphones, the experience of place is brought to our attention by Chinese mediascapes that are also a large part of migrants’ off-work and social lives (e.g. Chinese films, music, and television shows that can be downloaded and streamed online). There are two points of interest in this theme: first, how new media become constitutive of family relationships that are transnational; and second, to borrow from Sun (2002: 4), the impact of media and mobility on the imagination of home. Chua (2001) summarizes Chinese mediascapes as the “Pop Culture China” phenomenon— the dense traffic of popular music, media images in film and television, and music videos. Notably, in the first course of fieldwork in 2013, Vivian and her two cousins, Johnny and Cathy, emphasized that they used QQ and Skype frequently. By 2014, their use of both had declined, but they spent more time watching Chinese movies and television shows (soap operas and game shows). It is beyond the scope of this chapter to delve into a content analysis of what they watch, but they emphasized that for them watching Chinese media was a Xin Yimin 209 leisure activity. The main factor that contributes to the change in their usage is that across the year, five relatives moved to Trinidad, including two toddlers. The arrival of Vivian’s parents, her daughter, and Cathy’s daughter, as well as Johnny’s girlfriend, meant that the main people they had been communicating with via Skype were now part of their face-to-face networks. The children in particular changed their sense of leisure time, which contributed to their spending less time communicating with others online.

El Mirador Vivian and her husband moved to El Mirador with Vivian’s uncle in 2010. Her daughter Annie was born shortly after that. They came to move there following a trend of chain migration from Taishan to Trinidad that has grown in the last decade. Vivian’s cousins Johnny and Cathy joined them shortly after, and they have distant relatives in Port of Spain, who work in or run their own Chinese restaurants in the city. Out of the five Chinese restaurants in El Mirador, Jin Shan, the one run by Vivian’s uncle is the newest. The story of how Vivian’s uncle set up the restaurant is not unusual and fits with well-documented movements of Chinese migration and families who set up businesses on loans (both cash and resources) from more established relatives in their host destinations. Like other xin yimin from Guangdong, Vivian’s family are relatively wealthy, benefitting from a decade of Guangdong’s economic growth from foreign investment, emigration policies, and expansion of trade industries. She has a post-secondary diploma in business and English and had worked in bookkeeping in her hometown before getting married. Once in Trinidad, their lives became very different, and Vivian decided to send her six-month-old daughter to live with her in-laws in China while she was still young. Vivian’s idea was that her daughter would live with her husband’s family until her Chinese passport was issued, when Vivian would return to collect her, around a year later. Vivian, her husband, and her uncle live in a two-bedroom apartment above the restaurant. The rooms don’t look lived in or well cared for; they look temporary compared to their homes in Taishan. There is basic furnishing: two mattresses and a wardrobe, a basic kitchen, and a small television set. Yet the apartmenthasthelatestWiFimodemfromTrinidad’s national telecommunications company, which only recently brought 4G broadband to El Mirador. They each have a laptop, and Vivian has an iPad and iPhone. With Vivian and her family, we can ask the same questions about whether they are actually “living” in Trinidad as Madianou and Miller (2012) raise about Filipina maids who “lived” in London, in their study that challenges conventional notions of place and habitation. At that time, Vivian and her family had no Trinidadian friends, although they were friendly with restaurant customers, and their social time was spent in their apartment playing mah-jong with other relatives. After hours, her uncle just watched Chinese movies on his laptop and Skyped with his daughters and wife in Taishan. For Vivian Zhang and her 210 Jolynna Sinanan family in El Mirador, their non-work lives are to an extent “lived” through new media, communications, and entertainment. Vivian, Cathy, Johnny, and his girlfriend Xiumei use QQ, the popular Chinese equivalent to Facebook. QQ is predominantly an instant messaging service and Vivian mostly uses it to chat with her former school friends from back home. Their chats are sporadic; she doesn’t talk to them every day and they only have long conversations every month or so, but they send photos and updates frequently. Vivian is more on the receiving end of messages, in which friends gossip or give news about other friends from home, as her time is dominated by working in the restaurant six days a week and she feels she has nothing to report. Exceptions are when she is in conversation with friends who can shop for her in Guangzhou and send goods that she can sell in Tri- nidad. Two friends in particular send her photos and prices of everyday household items and children’s toys while they are out shopping in Guangzhou, and Vivian confirms whether she would like them or not. The restaurant is open for eleven to twelve hours a day and only closes on Sunday afternoons and evenings. Vivian is the main cashier and her uncle is the only chef there. The laptop is always set up, and during the period of my fieldwork Vivian Skyped with her daughter every day or every other day. Sometimes she would try to have a face-to-face conversation, but Annie would become bored quickly, so they would mostly use “always on” mode (Madianou and Miller 2012; Miller and Sinanan 2014). This type of webcam usage attempts to replicate the conditions of a more “natural” co-presence in the same home, where intimacy is experienced as shared presence rather than through the intensity of face-to-face conversation (Miller and Sinanan 2014: 16, 46). Their “always on” sessions depended on the time difference and would last up to half an hour a day, during which time Vivian could at least have the sort of visual contact with her child that allowed her to reinforce to her child that she was the mother figure. Although Vivian Skyped with her daughter very frequently, she still felt that her daughter was becoming “less accustomed” to her, which increased her guilt at being away as the months draw on, with trips to Taishan post- poned. In mid-2013 Vivian was able to finalize a trip home, which was to be an intensive purchasing trip for the shop and a chance to bring her daughter back to Trinidad. She and Johnny, as the youngest relatives, the most proficient in English, and the most communications-savvy, are entrusted with the visits home, each trip being seen as not only a social visit but also an opportunity to further expand their business and networks. When he arrived in Trinidad in 2011, Johnny also worked at the restaurant with them for a year. He has since moved to San Fernando with a friend of a relative, Liping, who is opening another restaurant. As a result he saw Vivian less, but they chatted on QQ and called each other, mainly to discuss the business of Liping’s restaurant and their own in El Mirador. Johnny is the family member most proficient in English, so although he had preferred living in El Mirador, he was the most resourced to move to San Fernando to Xin Yimin 211 continue the franchise. Like Vivian, Johnny has an iPhone and iPad. Since moving to Trinidad he has become more familiar with customers his own age and as a result joined Facebook. Johnny found that his few “Trini” friends were on Facebook, but apart from an initial browse of photos they posted, he was not interested in the status updates and funny images and memes that are typical of posts by young Trinidadians. He hasn’t deactivated his Facebook account, but as most of his friends from home are on QQ, he has stopped checking Facebook. In the quiet parts of the day, Johnny and Vivian watched Chinese movies or television shows on the laptop that was set up behind the service counter of the restaurant, but since moving to San Fernando his work hours have grown longer and now he only checks his phone sporadically during the day. Johnny has found his transition to San Fernando from El Mirador particularly lonely. In his first few months he chatted to Vivian over QQ, telling her how bored he was and how he preferred working in their restaurant. After Cathy joined him, he said he at least had somebody from home to talk to. He and Cathy live in a four-bedroom apartment next to the restaurant, with another employee from another part of Guangzhou. When he was in Taishan, Johnny studied English and hung out with his friends a lot. He told them that he was moving to Trinidad, and carried with him their expectation that he would have a successful (and easier) life there. Before his girlfriend Xiumei arrived, he wanted to show her and his friends that life in Trinidad was better than life in China. So he sent photos of himself in front of various local landmarks: San Fernando Hill, the Hyatt Hotel, the most up-market mall in Port of Spain, and picturesque beaches in Tobago. Only when he spoke to Xiumei over video chat on QQ did he reveal how lonely, boring, and physically strenuous it was to work in the restaurant six days a week, while at the same time not wanting to deter Xiumei from joining him. When Xiumei arrived, her experience was different. Her transition into the apartment with Johnny and Cathy was easier, and the young female restaurant staff took to her quickly, doting on her for her different sense of fashion, and helping her with her English. Looking at Xiumei, a contrasting, gendered experience of migrating appears. Apart from waiting on tables in the restaurant, her job also includes cleaning, arranging, polishing cutlery, and resetting— tasks she is able to do with the other women. This enables her to talk and gossip with other staff members, whereas Johnny was required to run errands and pick up and unpack goods, and spends hours driving alone. He has been happier since Xiumei arrived, and although they don’t have much time off, they go out together when they can, and now they send photos to their friends at home over QQ. They have also grown close to Liping, who has been living in Trinidad since the 1960s. Now in her sixties, Liping first moved to Port of Spain in 1968, with her then husband. Also from Guangdong, her husband had read in the local newspaper that other Chinese people from the region had been successful in running businesses in Trinidad and decided he would try for himself. Shortly 212 Jolynna Sinanan after arriving, the couple divorced, and Liping had to make her own way with two small children. She remembers her neighbors in Port of Spain being particularly helpful. “They felt sorry for the Chinese woman who had to take care of two children after her husband ran off with an outside woman.” Per- haps the situation resonated closely with her Trinidadian neighbors and the local term for scandal, confusion, and drama: bacchanal. When she rented a small apartment owned by one neighbor, others donated furniture and bed- ding for the family. Liping started making noodles to sell to other Chinese restaurants, and over the decades her enterprise has grown to the point that most Chinese grocery shops sell her brand of noodles, dumplings, and dim sum. As one of the few Chinese migrants at the time, Liping befriended other migrants as they arrived, and her name is often mentioned in discussions of suppliers. She created a Chinese community in Port of Spain that runs cook- ing classes and teaches martial arts. The people who drop in on her business have become her surrogate family, which is how she met Johnny and Xiumei. Until very recently, when 4G was introduced to her neighborhood, Liping had had little exposure to Chinese media and Johnny connected to her television to access the Internet. Now she subscribes to CCTV, where she keeps up to date with news and streams movies and television shows. More than any other genre, Liping is particularly attached to Chinese theatrical operas:

Maybe because I am old now, but before I used to sing opera and I used to perform. I remember it was on the radio at home. I miss it very much and now I can always watch it. At that time, it was something the family would do together. The performers would come and put on a show and everybody would come and watch it, the whole town. It was a break from reality.

Johnny assists Liping with the upkeep of the small community hall and spends a lot of his spare time with her. He says that diﬃcult as it has been for him to live in Trinidad, he is reminded of how much more diﬃcult it would have been for her, with children to raise, phone calls home so expensive that they were a rarity, and for many years no Internet. Vivian sees their family’s transition to living in Trinidad as similar to Liping’s, although their experience is “more modern.” They emphasize that they have to work just as hard, that their work is mostly stuck in one location. Thus, while they have had to deal with similar feelings of isolation and boredom as Liping, their use of new media seems to have shed light on the issue of “place” for them: where they live, and their imagined relationship to “home.”

Taishan When I visited Vivian in Taishan, she had been there for a month, staying between her in-laws and her parents. Her parents-in-law live on the sixth floor of a new apartment building a short bus ride or a fifteen-minute walk from Xin Yimin 213 the centre of Taishan town. The remittances from Vivian and her husband in Trinidad are the sole source of income for her in-laws. Since arriving and staying in their apartment after not having seen them for a year, Vivian had experienced a number of tensions, and this had changed her longer-term plans in Trinidad. The first and biggest shock to Vivian on returning was seeing how differently Annie was being raised by her grandmother, who largely stayed at home and was Annie’s sole playmate. Vivian’s style of parenting would have been more disciplined than her mother-in-law’s, and she was immediately confronted with the challenge of fulfilling the multiple expectations of being a mother to Annie again. Although mother and daughter had seen each other daily on Skype, it had exacerbated their missing each other and made it harder for Vivian to be the actual (disciplining) mother rather than just the “nice” absent mother. She would often reprimand or correct something in Annie’sbehavior— such as crying, or wanting something to eat just before a meal—and Annie was visibly torn between her mother’s instructions and her grandmother’s. Vivian seemed to accept that Annie was confused and upset—not just by these conflicting expectations but also by the fact that her time with her grandparents was now running short because that she would soon be returning to Trinidad with her mother. Second, there was tension between daughter-in-law and parents-in-law relating to the earnings of the restaurant. Vivian had initially seen herself and her husband as temporary migrants to Trinidad. The aim was to support their families and save up enough to be able to have a more than comfortable life back in Taishan. Vivian never used the term “sacrifice,”4 although she would constantly say she was “so tired” and that she missed her daughter when she was in Trinidad. Her father-in-law retired some time ago and plays mah-jong with other retired friends every day during business hours. Vivian told me that because his son is working overseas, he is saving face by living a more leisurely life rather than taking a part-time job. Vivian was resentful that her father-in-law gambles with their remittances, but as a dutiful daughter-in-law she hasn’t raised this issue with him. Instead, she compares her in-laws to her own parents, who are pig farmers living forty minutes from Taishan town. Her family home is a two-bedroom concrete and corrugated-iron house, with a stone kitchen and a newly renovated indoor bathroom, and it sits on a large block of land. When visiting them with Vivian, Annie plays with her cousin and Vivian visits other cousins and aunts, who live on the same street. Vivian has a sense of rural nostalgia when she speaks of her home village, but also a sense of contradiction about where she has come from and her own aspirations. On the one hand, she describes her life on the farm as “having lots of people around,” and says that her parents “are honest, hardworking people. You would not think they have a lot of money because they don’t want to show-off. They are not rich, rich people, but they have a lot because they work hard even now they’re old.” On the other hand, Vivian wants a different life for Annie. She wants a nice apartment and would rather live in an urban 214 Jolynna Sinanan setting than a rural one, but feels they deserve it if they’ve worked hard for it. Vivian, her husband, and Johnny had agreed that one of the aims of Vivian’s visit home was that she would send a shipping container back to Trinidad with stock from Guangzhou, which they would distribute to their relatives’ restaurants for selling on to other shops. She was excited about the income it would generate but also resentful of the fact that it would increase the remittances to her in-laws. A part of the strategy to reinvest in their businesses is to ship things from China that can be brought in bulk to Trinidad for reselling. Vivian decided to shop for fashion jewelry in the bulk-based markets of Guangzhou, a couple of suitcases-full to start with, to see the initial return, and then ship more. She and Johnny spoke over Viber while she was shopping, discussing what styles and colors would most appeal to the women of El Mirador. Mindful of the Indo-Afro population, they chose bold, coordinated colors, gold-based and chunky designs that would appeal to both Indo- and Afro-Trinidadian women. They avoided heavily jeweled, ornate, and delicate designs as they thought these would only appeal to Asian femininity. Before buying more, Vivian grouped the jewelry by cost, photographed them with her iPad, then sent the photos to Johnny over QQ to decide which ones they should get more of and which styles and designs appeal, respectively, to El Mirador, to Port of Spain, to San Fernando. The idea was that each restaurant would initially open a small stall near the entrance, and then expand to selling in small shops run by Trinidadians (as Chinese-owned shops would have their own stockists in China). Vivian’s relationship to home had changed since she went back to Taishan. She never struck me as particularly fond of Trinidad, and although she finds Trinidadians generally warm and friendly, she also finds them loud, brash, and sometimes rude. She would emphasize that she and her husband were only going to stay in Trinidad while Annie was young; once Annie started school, Vivian wanted to be living in China. But now Vivian also thinks she can’t live in China. She finds Taishan too urban and chaotic, and everybody is rude. Trinidad has a free education system for citizens, and Annie would be entitled to attend primary school at the state’s expense. Vivian now plans to stay in El Mirador for at least another five years. Her parents, Annie, and Cathy’s daughter returned to Trinidad with her, and although Vivian is more comfortable in El Mirador now that she has more family with her, her father is not happy there. He finds his mobility too restricted, having to rely on relatives for transport, and feels isolated by the language barrier. In Taishan, Mr Zhang exemplifies how elderly people who have substantial relationships with families and neighbors, a secure home, and a livelihood claim to have a higher quality of life (Alavi et al. 2011). Since moving to Trinidad, Mr Zhang has found himself increasingly dependent on his family, a lifestyle he is not accustomed to, and so he is considering moving back to Taishan. As Waters (2010) notes, migrating and living abroad are gendered experiences as well as influenced by age and life stage. Xin Yimin 215 Translocality: living in Trinidad or China? Since returning to El Mirador with her daughter in mid-2013, Vivian has had more photographic content to send over QQ. While in Taishan, Annie, along with Cathy’s daughter, had a professional photo shoot for Annie’s second birthday. This style of photos is not uncommon in China, with babies and toddlers dressed up in different outfits, given a variety of props and backdrops in fun, cute and colorful settings, and their photos taken and put into a hardcover album. Such photo sessions are quite expensive in China and reflect Fong’s (2004) argument in her ethnography of only children that parents invest all their resources into bringing up the sole child, giving them what their generation did not have. The photos that Vivian sends not only reflect this trend but also show how she benefits from working abroad and can afford to spend at home. The other kinds of photos she sends are those from her weekends, when she gets to go to an up-market restaurant in Port of Spain, or take a short trip to Tobago, or go on an outing with Annie and Cathy’s daughter. The girls are often photographed together, playing or dressed up, at the mall or in the city. In the few photos that Vivian has sent of Annie at home, the background is barely visible; we only see Annie taking up most of the frame. As Vivian had been separated from Annie for a year prior to her return, the photos confirm that she is indeed a hardworking and doting mother. Johnny and Cathy have reduced their use of QQ; they now speak less often with their friends from home as, on their days off, they make the two-hour drive to El Mirador to spend the day with the rest of their family, or Vivian’s family meets them in San Fernando. They download movies and television shows and exchange them—mostly new movies they have looked up online. A content analysis of their viewing is beyond the scope of this chapter, but Johnny has explained that the movies they share or watch together, mostly action or comedies, are a way to relax, amidst working and feeling tired. They are also a topic for conversation when he does chat with friends in Taishan. Xiumei has recently joined Trinidad’s dominant social media platform, Facebook. Her Facebook friends are her Trinidadian colleagues in the restaurant and some of their friends. Her posts are mostly visual; she shares illustrations accompanied by a status update, such as “Feeling lonely,” or “Some things are making me become stronger.” Some of her albums are of her friends from home, with the title “I miss you so much.” Although she has made friends in Trinidad, her posts still reflect the difficulties of moving to a new country and missing home, and they emphasize the value of working hard (‘It’s too much. … But I decided to do it! I should work hard!). The mix of entrepreneurship and professionalism, adhering to kinship obligations, and the desire to live up to the successes expected of emigrant sojourners has resulted in distinctive uses of new media abroad. First, the use of the webcam impacts upon the relationship between parent and child. As with many Asian transnational families, when mothers work abroad, “left behind” children are often raised by in-laws, fathers, or other relatives (Ong 1999; Yeoh, 216 Jolynna Sinanan Huang, and Lam 2005; Parreñas 2005), as we see with Vivian, her mother-in- law, and Annie. Yet, in contemporary kinship studies, emphasis shifts to relationships as constituted by behavior; that is, the person who acts as a mother is constituted as a mother (Carsten 2004; Miller 2008). In Vivian’s case, although Annie was essentially being raised by her mother-in-law before she came to Trinidad, a webcam allowed Vivian to act as mother, thus reinforcing her role as mother, even though she was absent. Second, through the circulation of images over social media platforms such as QQ, new migrants like Johnny can portray a certain picture of living abroad. Although his days are largely characterized by tedium and long hours of physical work based in one location, Johnny can still show that the move to Trinidad has been worthwhile when he sends photos of himself and Xiumei in more glamorous locations. The observation that people show a better, or more crafted, version of themselves over social media is not new (Livingstone 2008; Paechter 2013). But what is novel here is how new media build upon an earlier trend in representations of Chinese migration, in which a person’s level of success through entrepreneurship was made visible, and was used to confirm to others that the mix of familial duty and professionalism displayed by that person was a reinforcement of the Chinese work ethos and ideology (Pan 1994). Third, for older migrants such as Liping, new media do not necessarily represent an increase in the available means for communicating or negotiating relationships with people from home. Rather, through accessing Chinese mediascapes, there is more of a sense of remediation, to use Bolter and Grusin’s (2000) term, where televised theater substitutes for live theater as a leisure activity. Liping visits China regularly, but she doesn’t want to return there to live. She has found that the pace of life there has changed, and she is more established and successful in Trinidad. When we look at the case of Vivian and Annie, parenting, webcam, and photo sharing, we see how new media bridge the gap between ideal mother–child relations and their actual relationship. There is a similar parallel in their relationship to home in China. Although for migrants such as Vivian and her family there is attachment to and nostalgia for China as “home,” accessing media from home and circulating images to home bridges the gap between the ideals of migration— successful entrepreneurship and inter- generational mobility—and the actual experience of migration—achieving rewards only by struggling against the difficulties of hard work and cultural isolation. These examples from the parochial setting of Chinese new migration in El Mirador also show continuity in trends of migration to Trinidad from Guang- dong and uses of new media in translocal contexts that resonate elsewhere throughout the Chinese diaspora.

Notes 1 In order to protect the identities of those involved in this investigation, I have given the ﬁctional name of “El Mirador” to the town where I conducted my ethnography, and have changed the names of my research participants. Xin Yimin 217 2 For more information about the Global Social Media Impact Study, see www.ucl. ac.uk/global-social-media/. This research project is funded by the European Research Council. 3 Westmoorings is the most expensive suburb in Port of Spain. 4 Although our conversations were mainly in English, when in Taishan Vivian did use the term xisheng (sacriﬁce), but only to refer to other people’s situations, not her own.

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ACB see Assosiação Chinesa do Brasil Bathurst, Ralph 188 ACC see Association of Chinese in Baxi Huaqiao Ribao (Chinese daily Cambodia newspaper of Brazil) 52, 58, 61 Adams, Paul C. 188 Baxi Huaren xiehui (Assosiação Chinesa African Times 36, 39 do Brasil) 49 agency: diasporic 7, 121–3 Baxi Meizhou Huabao (Brazil’s Ahadi, Daniel 148–9, 152, 155, 162 illustrated paper of the American Aisifang (Love quartet) 36 continent) 52, 53, 54, 56 Alavi, K. 214 Baxi Qiaowang (Web for overseas Chi- All-China Youth Federation 79 nese in Brazil; BXQW) 53, 54, 55–6, Alonso, Andoni 8, 188 61, 64 Ames, Roger T. 205 BBC 11, 132, 133, 135, 184, 194 Anderson, Benedict 171 BBC Chinese “Have Your Say” forum Andrew, Julie-Anne 184 130–1, 136–7, 138, 139, 143–4 Ang, Ien 121–2 Beijing Television 153, 157 Anthias, Floya 187 Beltran-Antolin, Joaquin 69, 70, 71 Antunes, Luciene 56 Benton, Gregor 110 AOCME see Association of Overseas Bercovici, Jeff 184 Chinese Media in Europe Bernards, Brian 8 Appadurai, Arjun 122, 123 Bhabha, Homi 122 Asia Television 96 Bie, Linye 56, 58 Asian News 111, 116, 117 Bischoff, Paul 192 assimilation 44, 50, 64, 203 Bloomberg 11 Assmann, J. 118 Bo, Yuan 72 Association of Chinese in Cambodia Bolter, Jay David 216 16–17, 19–22, 27 Borowski, Alison 185 Association of Overseas Chinese Media Boxer, Charles Ralph 49 in Europe 79 Brady, Anne-Marie 6 Assosiação Chinesa do Brasil 49, 53, 55, Bravo, Vanessa 188 58, 61, 62 BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and ATV see Asia Television South Africa) 63 Austrade 184 BTV see Beijing Television BXMZHB see Baxi Meizhou Huabao Bain and Company 186 BXQW see Baxi Qiaowang Balaz, Vladimir 196 Balbino, Leda 56 C-media 97, 106 Baldassar, Loretta 185 ca bian qiu see playing edge ball Ball-Rokeach, Sandra J. 152, 161 cable television 21, 151, 157, 161 Bamman, David 189 Cai, Guoxuan 130, 134 147 Index 221 Cai, Hesen 90 China Express see China Chronicles Cai, Ling 141 China Internet Network Information Cai, Shi Fan 122 Center (CNNIC) 165, 185, 192, 194 Cai, Xiao Jing 118 China Media Capital 6 Cai, Yuanpei 90 China News Agency 26, 94 Cambodian Chinese Chamber of China News SA 36, 38–40 Commerce 17–20, 22 China News Service 4, 23, 59, 80, 89, Cambodian People’s Party 15–18, 20–21, 111–14; and International Forum of 23, 27 Chinese-Language Media 4–5 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation 154 China Radio International 4, 22, 28, 37, Canadian Radio-Television and Tele- 49, 53, 56, 59, 61; see also communications Commission 148, Chinese-language radio 152–3, 157, 160–1 China Times 111, 112, 120 Cao, Ling 188 China Youth Party see Zhongguo Cao, Yunde 22, 23 qingnian dang Carchedi, Francesco 70, 71 ChinaNews (including ChinaNews.com) Carsten, Janet 216 56, 170 Cartier, Carolyn 203 Chinese Communist Party 17, 19–20, 36, CBC see Canadian Broadcasting 51, 131; and “June Fourth” Tianan- Corporation men Square incident 138–43; and CCCC see Cambodian Chinese Chamber “tactic of amnesia” 133, 137; earliest of Commerce European publication of 91; founders CCP see Chinese Communist Party of 90; history of 23; propaganda reg- CCTV see China Central Television ulations of 25; Taiwanese publications Central News Agency 33, 52, 54, 59 critical of 92 Chan, Brenda 130, 133, 166, 168, 180, Chinese dream 4–5 189, 203, 205 Chinese Embassy: in Cambodia 18–20, Chan, Chung-Hing 189 25, 26; in South Africa 33, 35, 36, 40; Chang, Carlisle 207 in the Netherlands 112, 113, 115, 117 Chang, Liu 94 Chinese Nationalist Party 33, 49, 51, 61, Chang, Sen-Dou 132 91–92 Chau, Michael 189 Chinese News and Entertainment (CNE) Chea, Sim 16, 20, 22, 23 96; see also Phoenix TV Chen, Hai Tong 72 Chinese News Digest 143 Chen, Miao Shen 50 Chinese Weekly see Huawen Zhoukan Chen, Shui-bian 55 Chinese-language radio 2, 212; absence Chen, Wenhong 104–5, 130, 147 of in Brazil 61; in Australia 134, 190; Chen, Wenli 188 in Cambodia 21–2; in Canada 147–8, Chen, Xiaoli 49, 50, 55, 56, 61 150, 153; in the Netherlands 112; in Chen, Xitong 138 South Africa 34–5, 37; in Spain and Chen, Zhizhao (Zizão) 50 Italy 75; in the United States 134; see Cheng, Hau Ling 162 also China Radio International Cheng, Jing 61 ChineseInLA.com (Internet forum) 135 Cheng, Manli 4, 92 Chong, Cindy Cheung-Kwan 9, 11, 12 Chengshi Dianshi see Talentvision Chow, E. C. 117, 121 Chi Guang (Red Light) 91 Chow, Rey 116, 121, 122 Chiang, Kai-Shek 33, 55, 91–2 Chua, Beng-Huat 208 China Central Television 4, 19, 56, 75, Chun, A. 117, 121 96, 139, 154, 160, 212; CCTV-1 97; Chun, Tian 119 CCTV-4 (CCTV International) 21, 97, Cillo, Rossana 71 151, 153, 157 Civil War: Chinese 49; Spanish 70 “China-Chinese” Internet 194–6 clientelism 27; see also patronage China Chronicles 34, 35, 36, 39 CMC see China Media Capital China Daily 4, 34 CNA see Central News Agency 222 Index CND.org (Internet forum) 143; see also Diaoyu Islands (Senkaku Islands) 79 Chinese News Digest Ding, Sheng 130, 133 CNE see Chinese News and Duong, Chhiv 16, 17, 19, 20, 22 Entertainment, Phoenix TV CNNIC see China Internet Network Edwards, Penny 17 Information Center El Manderin (Spanish weekly) 77 CNP see Chinese Nationalist Party Emmer, Pieter C. 203 CNS see China News Service Engbersen, Godfried 188, 189, 196 Cold War 92, 136; see also post-Cold entrepreneurship 18, 37, 149, 156, 185, War era 190, 193, 205, 215–6 collective memory: of diasporic Chinese Epoch Times 57, 110, 134 community 113, 118–21, 131–2 Erll, A. 118 Collins, Jock 185 essentialism: cultural 121 Commercial Daily 24–5, 27–8 European Commercial News 110 Commercial News 22, 24 European Journal 94 conditional mode of existence see European Times 87, 92, 94–5, 101–106, provisional business migrants 134 Confucian duties: of overseas Chinese Expo see Shanghai 2010 Expo 117 exportation 175; of cultural products 26, Confucius Institute 3, 63 38, 122; of goods and services 35, 62, consanguinity: between diaspora and 88, 184; see also importation “homeland” 116, 122 CPP see Cambodian People’s Party Facebook 21, 28, 136, 172, 210, 211, 215 CRI see China Radio International Fairchild Media Group 10, 147–51, 153, Crissman, Lawrence W. 19 156–60 CRTC see Canadian Radio-Television Fairclough, Norman 113, 116, 137 and Telecommunications Commission Falun Gong 52, 57, 58, 160 Cultural Revolution 132 Fan, C. Cindy 204–5 Cunningham, Stuart 122, 123, 188 Fang, Xiao 71, 72 Curtin, Michael 5 Fausto, Boris 49 cyber China 11, 165–81 Feichengwurao see If You Are the One Czaplicka, J. 118 Feizhou Shi Bao see African Times Ferguson, J. 122 d’Hooghe, Ingrid 4 Ferguson, Tim 184 Da Ji Yuan see Epoch Times Ferri, Marica 70, 71 Dai, Huadong 80 Financial Times 11, 135 Dai, Nan 9, 10 Fleras, Augie 162 Daily Mail (UK) 170 Fong, Vanessa L. 165, 206, 215 Daily Telegraph 59 Fortier, Anne-Marie 184, 186 Dajiawang (Dajia News)33 FORUM website 110 Davis, Aimee 203 Fox News (USA) 170 Dayan, Daniel 122, 131 Friedman, Edward 133 de Leeuw, S. 118 Fu, King-Wah 189 de Sá, Nelson 52–5 Dekker, Rianne 188, 189, 196 Gao, Jia 130 Delgado, Grace Peña 204, 206 Gao, Weinong 88 Deng, Xiaogang 10 Gao, Ying 54 Deng, Xiaoping 88, 90 Gaomian Ribao see Khmer Daily Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade geo-ethnic media and storytelling 147, (Australia) 184 152, 156, 161 Department of Immigration and Border Georgiou, Myria 7, 8, 165 Protection (Australia) 185 Ghose, Rina 188 Department of Immigration and Gillespie, Marie 136 Citizenship (Australia) 186 Gilroy, P. 123 Index 223 Gitlin, Todd 123 Hu, Jintao 36 Glick-Schiller, Nina 165 Hu, Lanbao 77 Global Social Media Impact Study 204 Hu, Yaobang 138 globalization 96, 103, 109–10, 122, 166, Hu, Zhengrong 1, 3 204; of Chinese media 1, 9, 29, 37, Hua Qiao Tong Xun (News of Chinese 103, 123–4, 152–3, 161–2; see also immigrants/Overseas Chinese bulletin) going global, soft power 74, 111 going global (“going out”) initiative 1–5, Hua Qiao Xin Tian Di see Asian News 42, 45, 97, 106, 147, 157; see also Hua Shang Bao (Chinese Business globalization, soft power Gazette) 134 Gong, Tian 6, 9, 10, 12 Hua Xin Bao (Huaxin Chinese Gorfinkel, Lauren 32 periodical) 75, 77, 79 Greater China 7, 132, 134, 152, 154, 158, Huang, Fa Hong 72 160, 194–5; defined 151 Huang, Haicheng 55 Gross, Larry 123 Huang, Jerry 153 Grusin, Richard 216 Huang, Jialue 87–8 Guangdong Overseas Chinese Affairs Huang, Jianwei 151 Office 88 Huang, Shirlena 216 Guardian (newspaper) 132 Huang, You 122 Guo Min (National) 91 Huang, Yunrong 150 Guo, Dongpo 4 Huaqiao Xinwen Bao see China Guo, Jinling 80 Chronicles Guo, Yan 53 Huaren (versus Zhongguo ren) see Guomindang see Chinese Nationalist “China-Chinese” Internet Party HuaRen.us (Internet forum) 135 Gupta, A. 122 Huashang Ribao see Commercial News Huawen Zhoukan (Chinese Weekly) 134 Haixia Daobao 59 Hughes, Caroline 16 Halbwachs, M. 121 Hun, Sen 17, 20, 23, 27 Hall, Stuart 122 Hunan Satellite Television 158 Hamel, Mathilde 73 Hunter, Alan 144 hard power: contrasted with soft power Husband, Charles 121, 123 188 HYS forum see BBC Chinese “Have Harris, Karen L. 42 Your Say” forum He Ping Hu Sheng (The Pacifist) 92 hegemonic discourses/representations of If You Are the One (Chinese reality TV China 3, 20–1, 109, 113–4, 116–18, show) 158 120–3 IM see instant messaging Heng, Samrin 18, 23 imagined community 7, 57, 171, 173 Hirsch, Marianne 132 importation: of cultural products 38, 160; Ho, Christine 207 of goods and services 18, 24, 34, 35, homeland: and Chinese diaspora 7–8, 37, 41, 157, 160; see also exportation 133, 143, 165–8, 172, 179, 196; and instant messaging (IM) 165, 172–3, diasporic media 11, 9, 180, 188, 195; 184–5, 192, 193–4, 196, 210; see also culture of in diaspora 196–7; news and QQ, WeChat media from 165, 170–1, 177, 195; Instituto Nacional de Estadística politics of 109–124 (National Statistics Institute, Spain) 71 Hong Kong China News Agency Internet Protocol television 151, 185, 189 (Xianggang Zhongguo tongxun she) Ip, Manying 11, 167, 172 59, 94 Ipsos Reid 151 Hoon, Chang Yau 21 IPTV see Internet Protocol television Horst, Heather A. 188 iQIYI.com (Internet forum) 76 Hsu, Francis L. K. 121 Istituto Nazionale di Statistica (National Hsu, Madeline Y. 205, 206 Statistics Institute, Italy) 71–2 224 Index Jai, Qinglin 109 Lee, Alice Y. L. 5 Jenkins, R. 122 Lee, Chin-Chuan 131 Ji, Deqiang 1, 3 Lee, Komito 188, 196 Jian Hua Daily (Jianhua Ribao) 22, 23, Lee, Sang Tien 53, 54 25, 27 Lee, Teng-hui 55 Jiang, Ying 189 Lee, Yimou 194 Jiang, Zemin 19, 20 Leite, José Roberto Teixeira 49 Jiangsu Satellite Television 56, 158 Leong, Susan 12 jie chuan chu hai (“to borrow someone’s Lesser, Jeffrey 50 vessel to go out to sea”)4 Levitt, Peggy 165 Jiu Guo Bao see Jiu Guo Shi Bao Li, Anshan 49 Jiu Guo Shi Bao (National Salvation Li, Chunhui 49 Times) 91, 92 Li, En 53 Johnson, Howard 203 Li, Hai’an 52, 53 Johnson, Kim 207, 208 Li, Haifeng 61–2 Jornal Chinês para a América do Sul see Li, Hongtao 131 Nanmei Qiaobao Li, Jianquan 53, 59, 60 June Fourth incident 130–1, 138, and Li, Minghuan 69, 70, 89, 90, 110, 114, diasporic Chinese media 133–7; as 118, 119–22 cultural memory site 132; narratives of Li, Phoebe Hairong 130 139–43; see also Tiananmen Square Li, Ruihuan 17 incident Li, Shaoyu 49, 62 Jye, Chen Tsung 50, 56 Li, Shizeng 90 Li, Xinzhu 35–6 Kan Zhongguo (Observe China) 110 Lian He Shi Bao 74, 75; see also United Karim, Karim H. 123 Times Karl, Rebecca E. 20 Liang’an Sandi Jiaguoqing see Straits Katz, Elihu 131 Today Katz, Vikki S. 152, 161 Liao, Anyi 54 Keightley, E. 118 Liao, Felix H. F. 204 Khmer Daily 22–5, 27–8 Liao, Man Ling 72 Khmer Economy 23 Lin, Bin 117 Khmer Rouge 15, 17–18, 20 Lin, Chengguo 74 King, Russell 188 Lin, Chusheng 204–5 kinship: and migration 204; behavioral Lin, Yun 51, 61 basis for 216; networks 206; obliga- Liu, Chang 94 tions 215; relationship with business Liu, D. J. 169 205–6 Liu, Guohua 54 Klapdor, Michael 184 Liu, Hong 205 KMT see Chinese Nationalist Party Liu, Xiaobo 131 Kong, Shuyu 10, 151, 155, 156 Liu, Xiaoguang 24 Kou, Haiyang 88 Liu, Y. Michael 20 Kuhn, Philip 203, 204, 205 Liu, Yong 92 Kuomintang see Chinese Nationalist Liu, Zepeng 87 Party Liuzhou Daily 22 Kwok, Reginald Yin-Wang 205 Live, Yu-Sion 70 Livingstone, Sonia 216 Lam, Theodora 216 Lon Nol’s 1970 Cambodian coup 15, 16 Lang, G. E. 118 Look Lai, Walton 203, 207, 208 Lang, K. 118 Lopez, Kathleen 51 Laomao, 79 Louie, Vivian 196 Law 5/1984 70 Louw, Eric 34 Le Parisien 104 Lu, Qian 105 Lee-Loy, Anne-Marie 203, 208 Lu, Wa 105 Index 225 Lü, Xinyu 19 Nedelcu, Mihaela 171 luo ye gui gen (“a fallen leaf always Nerone, J. 118 returns to the roots”)73 netizens 166–85 New Zealand Herald 169 Ma, Eric Kit-wai 138, 153, 203–205 Ngan, Lucille 119 Ma, Laurence J. C. 132 NMQB see Nanmei Qiaobao Ma, Yun 138 Nonini, Donald 5, 6, 8, 9 Mackay, Hugh 130, 136, 137 nostalgia: for Chinese-language media Madianou, Mirca 188, 209, 210 81; for family and hometown 82, 213; Mail (newspaper) 59 for “homeland” 118–19, 216 Mano, Winston 32 Nouvelles d’Europe see European Times Mao, Zedong 19, 20; see also post-Mao Nye, Joseph 188 reform era Nyíri, Pál 6, 9, 12, 17, 18, 19, 23, 167 Mar, Phillip 187 Marolt, Peter 189 O’Connor, Brendan 189 Marsh, Vivien 136 O’Reilly, Tim 185 Matsaganis, Matthew D. 152, 161 O’Young, Winston Gregory 207 mediasphere: Chinese-language 2, 51, 58, OCAO see Overseas Chinese Affairs 63; diasporic Chinese 5, 6, 10, 36, 48, Office 50, 134–7 Oiarzabal, Pedro. J. 8, 188 Meighoo, Kirk Peter 208 Olympic Games: Beijing 2008 Summer Meizhou Huabao see Baxi Meizhou Games 1, 3, 8, 61; Vancouver 2010 Huabao Winter Games 159 Melkote, Srinivas R. 169 Ong, Aihwa 5, 6, 8, 9, 122, 130, 133, Mersham, Gary 34 153, 215 Meyn, Colin 27 Operation Emperor 78, 83 microblogging 28, 172, 184, 185, 189, Oriani, Raffaele 83 192–4; see also Sina Weibo, Tencent, Ortega-Pérez, Nieves 71 Twitter Ou Hua Bao (Euro Chinese news) 75, 76, Miller, Daniel 188, 209, 210, 216 77–81, 83 Millett, Trevor M. 207, 208 Ou Hua Lian He Shi Bao 75 Ming Bao see Ming Pao Daily Ou Zhou Huaren Bao 75 Ming Pao Daily 5, 25, 37, 150 Ou Zhou Huaren Wang (European Mitra, Ananda 188 Chinese website) 98 Moore, Malcolm 194 Ou Zhou Qiao Bao (Chinese migrants in MqVU 26 Europe) 75,76–9 MSN Messenger, 173, 182 Ou Zhou Qiao Wang (Chinese migrants Mu, Yi 79 in Europe online) 78, 79 Mukden Incident 79 Ou Zhou Shi Bao see European Times Murray, Catherine A. 148, 149, 152, 162 Ou Zhou Shi Bao Zhoukan (Europe Murray, Daniel 50 Weekly) 95, 106 Oushinet.com (Internet forum and news Naficy, Hamid 122, 170 website) 95, 105; see also European Nan Ou Huaren Bao (Journal of the Times Chinese in southern Europe) 90 Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (OCAO) Nanfei Huaren Bao see China News SA 4, 27, 53, 80, 88 Nanjing Massacre 132, 143 Overseas Chinese Gazette 33–4, 35, 37; Nanmei Qiaobao (NMQB) 48, 51, 52–63 see also Qiao Sheng Bao Nash, Alan 185 Overseas Chinese Radio 34–5, 37 nationalism: Chinese 20, 104, 110, 130–1, Overzeese Chinezen 111; see also Hua 133, 137, 141–3, 159, 181; and identity Qiao Tong Xun 180; ethnic 26; long-distance 121–2, 196; South African 34; see also Paechter, Carrie 216 transnationalism Pan, Ling 99 226 Index Pan, Lynn 205, 216 Pu Hua Bao (Chinese in Portugal) 74 Pan, Zhi 117 Pyke, Joanne 185 Panagakos, Anastasia N. 188 Park, Yoon Jung 33, 34, 42 Qiao Sheng Bao (The voice of Chinese Parker, David 70 immigrants) 33, 75, 80; see also Parreñas, Rhacel Salazar 216 Overseas Chinese Gazette patriotism: Chinese 53, 64, 122, 131, 139, Qiao Sheng Guangbo Diantai see 141–2, 178, 179 Overseas Chinese Radio patronage 17–18; and kinship relations Qiao Zhong (Overseas Chinese 206 newspaper) 92 Pauleen, David 188 Qiao, Se Lin 83 PBM see provisional business migrants Qiaoban see Overseas Chinese Affairs People.com.cn 23 Office People’s Daily 36, 56, 59, 62, 79; Qiaobao (Overseas Chinese paper) 56, 59 Overseas Edition Europe 110 Qiu, Xiaoqi 61 People’s Republic of China (PRC) 1, 8, Qiu, Yiyuan 17, 27, 61, 118 25, 48–9, 70, 109, 166; and diasporic Qiu, Yuanping 4 Chinese media 11, 22, 24, 27, 28, QQ 11, 21, 62, 173, 203, 208, 210–11, 33–9, 52–3, 55–8, 61–2, 64, 90, 94, 214–16; see also Tencent 157, 169–70; and Chinese migrants 5, QZone 172 6, 10, 11–12, 15, 18, 21, 32, 42, 58, 63, 87, 167–8; and Chinese nationalism radio see Chinese-language radio, China 19, 20, 122; and mainland Chinese Radio International media 2, 4, 6, 10, 37, 59–60, 63–4, Rainbow Weekly (Hong Zhoukan)38 105, 144, 166, 170, 181; and transna- Rajkumar, Deepa 187 tionalism 9; anti-PRC diasporic media Red Light Group 91 33, 57, 58, 92; Ministry of Foreign reform era see post-Mao reform era Affairs 56; pro-PRC diasporic media Reips, Ulf-Dietrich 188 35, 37, 48–64 Ren Min Wang 79; see also People’s Phillips, Janet 184, 185 Daily Phnom Penh Evening News (Jinbian RenRen 172 Wanbao)22 Republic of China (ROC) 33, 42, 52, Phnom Penh Evening Post 22, 23, 27 54–5, 59 Phoenix TV (Phoenix CNE) 21, 56, 75, Riggens, S. H. 123 97, 104; see also Chinese News and Robertson, Gregor 159 Entertainment Robertson, Shanti 187 Pickering, M. 118 ROC see Republic of China Pieke, Frank N. 110, 114, 120 Rong, Sheng 33 playing edge ball 118 Rushdie, Salman 123 Poggioli, Sylvia 73 Politburo: of Chinese Communist Party San Min Dao Bao (Three Peoples’ 17, 51 Herald) 92 Portes, Alejandro 165 San Min Zhou Bao (Three Peoples’ post-Cold War era 15, 136; see also Cold Weekly) 91 War San Min Zhoukan (San Min Weekly) 91 post-Mao reform era 71, 87, 89, 141, 203–5 Schmidt, Heather 26 PowerApple.com (Internet forum) 135–6 Schudson, Michael 115, 118 PPStream (PPS.tv) 76, 81 Serrie, Hendrick 121 PPTV (PPTV.com) 81 Shah, Prakash 89 PRC see People’s Republic of China Shan, Feng 117, 203, 207, 209 provisional business migrants: condi- Shanghai 2010 Expo 158–9 tional mode of existence of 12, 186–7, Shanghai Media Group 6, 158, 159 195; and media 188–90; social media Shanghai TV Week (Shanghai Dianshi practices of 191–4, 196 Zhou) 158 Index 227 Shanghai Wenguang Jituan see Shanghai Tai, Zixue 17, 154, 185, 189 Media Group Taiwan Qiaobao (TWQB) 54–8 Shen, Kaidong 24, 27, 28 Talentvision 147–8, 151, 152–7, 158–62 Shi, Yu 188 Tan, Chee Beng 203 Shih, Gerry 194 Tan, Danielle 16 Shih, Shu-mei 8 Television Broadcasts China 6 Shijie Ribao see World Journal Television Broadcasts International 6 Shijie Zhongguo-Cina in Italia (China in Television Broadcasts Limited 5–6, 10, Italy) 74, 75,77–8 37, 153 Shu, Chang-Sheng 50 Television Broadcasts Satellite 153–4 Shyu, David Jye Yuan 50, 56 Television New Zealand 169, 174 Simon-Davies, Joanne 184 Tencent 21, 184, 189; see also QQ, Sin Chew Daily 22, 24–6, 27 WeChat Sin Chew Jit Poh see Sing Chew Daily Tencent QQ see QQ, Tencent Sina (including Sina.com, Sina.com.cn) Tian, Yuanpu 38 23, 59, 81, 170, 171, 177, 184, 191 Tiananmen Square incident 20, 131, Sina Weibo 21, 172, 184, 189, 192, 194; see 133 also microblogging, Tencent, Twitter Tong, Jingrong 11, 130, 136, 137, 139 Sinanan, Jolynna 11, 210 Tong, Louie 160 Sinclair, John 122, 123, 188 transnational communication 130–1, 134, Sing Tao Daily 5, 10, 36–7, 74, 89, 94–5, 143; see also transnationalism 106, 111, 149–50; Europe edition 110, transnational families 11, 205; see also 134 transnationalism Sino-Japanese War 70, 79, 91, 92 110 transnationalism: Chinese 7–9, 32, 57, SkyKiwi 168–170, 174–177, 179–180 110, 144; and business 171, 208; and Skype 11, 173, 203–4, 208–10, 213 Chinese identity 11, 20, 44, 155, 162, SMG see Shanghai Media Group 165–7, 174–81; and Daoism 50; and Smith, Noah A. 189 media 28, 57, 105, 124. 152, 161, Smith, Valerie 132 172–3, 203; see also transnational So, Clement Y. K. 5 communication, transnational families, soft power: and diasporic identity 11, 26; nationalism and diasporic media 1–3, 60–1, 64, 83, Tsagarousianou, R. 122 97, 144, 157–60, 161; and promotion Tsai, Chien-hsin 8 of Chinese culture 122; contrasted TVB see Television Broadcasts Limited with hard power 187–8; four objectives TVBC see Television Broadcasts China of 4; see also globalization, going global TVBI see Television Broadcasts Spanish Chinese Media Group 77 International Spinks, Harriet 184, 185 TVBS see Television Broadcasts Satellite Spring Festival Gala 19 TVNZ see Television New Zealand State Administration of Press and Twitter 21, 136, 172, 189 Publications 26 TWQB see Taiwan Qiaobao Statistics Canada 148–9 Statistics New Zealand 166 UK-Chinese Times see Yingzhong Shi Stenberg, Josh 9, 10, 49, 50 Bao Straits Herald see Haixia Dabao United Daily News Group 5, 36, 94; Straits Today 154–5 United Daily 74 Sturken, Marita 132 United Times 74, 111–12, 116–17, 119; Sullivan, Jonathan 189 see also Lian He Shi Bao Sun, Adam 54, 55 Sun, The 59 Vasantkumar, Chris 20 Sun, Wanning 4, 6, 9–10, 12, 19, 57, Véras, Daniel Bicudo 50, 51, 53, 56, 58 60, 83, 91, 122, 130, 133–4, 143–4, Viber 208, 214 149–50, 157, 166, 188–9, 194, 208 virtual community 44, 131, 143, 165, Sun, Xingsheng 91 168, 188 228 Index virtual existence: of diasporic Chinese Xin Hua Lian He Shi Bao (The new 170, 172, 174, 181 China) 75,81 virtual migrants 196 xin yimin (new migrants) 203–5, 207, Voci, Paola 167 209, 211, 213, 215 Xing, Heping 17, 23, 25 Wall Street Journal 11, 23, 135 Xinhua News Agency 51, 59, 117; and Wallis, Cara 189 soft power 4; as source 24, 49, 56, 80, Wang, Chen 3 94, 112, 113, 115; reporters 23, 25, Wang, Dan 141 28–9 Wang, Gongwu 205 Xinhuanet.com 23, 105, 170 Wang, Haibo 35 Xu, Ge 33, 35 Wang, Hongying 188 Xu, Wei 53 Wang, Jian 188 Xu, Xinhan 150 Wang, Jingwei 90 Xu, Zhantang 96 Wang, Najun 35, 38 Wang, Tricia 189 Yang, Bo 16, 17 Wang, Yiwei 4 Yang, Guobin 135, 195 Wang, Yong Quan 120 Yang, Jiamin 36 Wang, Zhiyi 52 Yang, Shengmao 49 Wasserman, Herman 32 Yao, Guojian 53 Webb, Alban 136 Yazhou Zhoukan 25 WeChat 21, 24, 81, 184, 189, 192–4, 196 Ye, Fei 55 Wei, Dennis 204 Ye, Weimin 104 Wei, Guiyu 34, 38, 39 Ye, Xingqiu 88, 90 weibo see microblogging, Sina Weibo, Ye, Xueyan 56 Tencent, Twitter Yebaihe zhi chun (blog pseudonym) 57 Weiboscope (data monitoring tool) 189 Yin, Hang 11, 195 WenxueCity.com (Internet forum) 135–7, Yingzhong Shi Bao (UK-Chinese Times) 191 134 Wickberg, Edgar 176, 180 Yong, Hu 189 Wijers, Gea D. M. 16 Youtube 76 Williams, Allan M. 196 Yu, Sherry S. 149, 152, 155, 162 Willmott, William E. 15, 16 Yu, Yan 72 Wilson, Janelle L. 119 Yuan, Fang 54 Windows Live Messenger see MSN Yuan, Guo’en 92, 93 Messenger Yuan, Yizhou 50, 52, 53 Wong, Cindy Hing-Yuk 5, 151, 157 Yue, Audrey 130 Wood, Nancy 188 Yuval-Davis, Nira 187 World Journal 5, 37, 150 World War I 88 Zhang, Kenny 149 World War II 36, 70, 92 Zhang, Lening 10 Wu, Changhong 96 Zhang, Mingxing 105 Wu, Jie 76, 77, 78 Zhang, Pengyi 189 Wu, Jinghuan 90 Zhang, Renjie 90 Wu, Yenna 131, 133 Zhang, Xiaoling 32 Wu, Yu-Shan 32, 76, 77, 78 Zhao, Yanrong 34 Wu, Yuzhang 90, 91 Zhao, Yuezhi 1, 188 Zhejiang Television 97, 104 Xi, Jinping 4–5 Zhong He Shang Bao see China Times Xiang, Debao 3 Zhongguo Bao (Journal of China) 75,77 Xiao, Liang 90 Zhongguo qingnian dang (China Youth Xiao, Yang Ming 122 Party) 91 Xie, Wenjing 135 Zhongguo Ren (Chinese-language Xing Dao Ribao see Sing Tao Daily newspaper in Spain) 74 Index 229 Zhongguo ren (versus Huaren) see Zhu, Huiling 49, 53 “China-Chinese” Internet Zhu, Ling Feng 72, 74 Zhongguo Xinwen Wang see ChinaNews Zhu, Ying 151, 161 Zhou, Enlai 88, 90, 91 Zhuang, Guotu 18, 132 Zhou, Haitao 53 ZJTV see Zhejiang Television Zhou, Min 130, 133, 134, 147 Zu Lai Temple 61 eBooks '. •. from Taylor &: Francis lI• : •• Helping you to choose the right eBooks for your Library Add to your library's digital Choose from a range of subject collection today with packages or create your own! 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