外交政策网站7月8日报道,原题:充满“谣言”的人民共和国。以下是文章内容摘编。
无论这件事真相如何,一个毫无疑问的事实是:中国的新浪微博是目前世界上最好的造谣机器。
7月1日,周五,在中国共产党成立90周年庆祝大会上,一个熟悉的面孔并未出现在现任和前任的中国领导人队伍里。他罹患重病、近期逝世,还是因为某些原因他不想出现在那场合?他未出现,人们没有得到任何解释——甚至没有一个他未出席的正式承认。在报道和可核实消息缺失的情况下,谣言就像小兔子一样的快速繁殖起来。
接下来的那个周末,相关谣言通过新浪微博,这一拥有超过1亿用户的微博系统传播开来。对于一个已经八十四岁高龄的人来说,健康问题本是再平常不过的。但一个如此脆弱的谣言居然广为流传,在这一过程中,似乎审查制给谣言创造了把柄。如果点击一些原有页面,结果就是“该页内容根据有关法律规定不予显示。”
除了香港媒体的洋相以外,在微博上的“死讯”成为了最热门的话题。然后笔者在询问了几名不太关注微博的中国朋友,他们的回答都是:“什么?我没听说!”
微博常常被认为是推特的翻版,但是事实上很多关键点是不同的,微博服务使用户可以更加轻松的分析照片,就像脸谱一样。而不仅仅是一个限写140字的文本媒介。这就给了用户们更多的机会去分享可视化的信息,比如谷歌截图。第二点,也是最重要的一点,就是谁在用这个网站?它的用户显然是良莠不齐的。根据了解,有许多专家、商人和名流使用微博。这正好和美国相反。因为在西方,社交网站只是作为未过滤的不可靠资源的一种而存在。然而在中国,微博似乎成了散播谣言的唯一手段。
微博既能高速传播真事儿,也能高速散播谣言。公司高管用它来宣布辞职。伪科学家用它来宣称三峡大坝引发气候灾难。有时候,要在谣言中鉴别谣言真的很难。
和其他网络公司一样,新浪必须遵守中国的相关法律法规。对字符进行审查。保证一些敏感内容,比如达赖喇嘛不会一传十十传百。同时政府的相关机构会时时告知他们对某些过于敏感的信息进行处理。也就是说这是一个半自动、半人工的工作系统。“死亡事件”就属于后者。
当然,无论是政府审核,还是服务商过滤,总是谣言已经造成后果之后的步骤了。等着谣言爆发,然后再迫使其闭嘴,这是一项极为艰难的工作。几年前中国还有几家相互竞争的微博服务商,但是现在,新浪是毫无疑问的赢家,其中的一个重要原因就是新浪闹明白了如何对付谣言和政府的要求。
但是,谣言已经以极快的速度在人们提起警惕之前传播到了全国各地,乃至全世界各地。而且越传越热。(译者 无聊意志)
The People's Republic of Rumors
Whether Jiang Zemin is dead or alive, one fact is beyond question: China's Sina Weibo is the world's best rumor-mongering machine ever.
BEIJING — Last Friday, July 1, one familiar face was missing from the usual lineup of past and present Chinese Communist Party leaders at the CCP's 90th-anniversary parade: Where was former President Jiang Zemin? Was he very ill, recently deceased, or for some reason not wanted there? No explanation was given for his absence -- not even an official acknowledgment of his nonattendance. And in the absence of reported and verifiable information, rumors in China breed like rabbits.
Chatter began over the weekend on the microblogging platform Weibo-- which has some 100 million users -- about Jiang's whereabouts, but there wasn't much to go on except speculation that, at age 84, his health might have failed. But on Wednesday, July 6, some Weibo users noticed that outside Beijing's best military hospital, Hospital 301, there was suddenly a large crowd of traffic-control officers. Using Google Maps, which shows real-time traffic information in China, Weibo users confirmed that the main road outside Hospital 301 had been blocked. Some passers-by also noticed and blogged that the small parade of black cars driving into the hospital were not the standard government-issue Audis, but black Mercedes-Benzes fit for VIPs.
No one seemed to have any specific evidence linking the road closure with Jiang, but by the evening it seemed to be taken as almost fact on Weibo that he had passed away and that an official announcement was coming soon. Top Party leaders, the microbloggers claimed, had been summoned back to Beijing! Editors at state-run newspapers had been told to hold the front pages of Thursday's edition for the big news! And then … nothing. Thursday morning came and went, the papers published the usual mix of stories, and still no news. (One Hong Kong TV station jumped the gun and ran an obituary, but then retracted it.)
Now, this saga might sound like a mere curiosity, an instance of people shouting in a virtual echo-chamber, but for the fact that China's censors seemed to give credence to the rumors (or at least their fear of them) by ordering certain search terms to be blocked on Weibo: "Jiang" -- a very common word in Chinese, which also means "river" -- and "301" among them. Instead a search would yield the error message: "Due to relevant rules and regulations, the results can't be displayed."
Then on Thursday, China's state-run news agency, Xinhua, finally issued a short statement denying the rumors of Jiang's death, but also failing to offer any alternative explanation for his recent absence: "Recent reports of some overseas media organizations about Jiang Zemin's death from illness are 'pure rumor,' said authoritative sources Thursday." And that was it. Never mind that the rumors were in fact homegrown, or that what any reader really wants to know is not what isn't true (a denial), but what is true. But as of Friday afternoon, the line between fact and fiction remained unclear. Jiang Zemin remains unaccounted for.
It's worth noting that most of the conversation -- save for the Hong Kong TV blooper-- occurred over Chinese social media, in particular Weibo, where Jiang was the top-trending topic on July 6 (before the censors clamped down, of course). I asked a few Chinese friends who aren't close followers of social media for their take on the rumors, and their response was: "What? I hadn't heard."
Weibo is often said to be China's equivalent to Twitter, but in some key ways it's different. First, it allows users to more easily and directly share photos and videos -- more like a Facebook wall than a 140-character text-only entry. This is handy for sharing visual tips like Google traffic maps more virally. (It's also handy for busting seminude officials using the service to sext with mistresses.) Second, and more importantly, is who uses the website. This is admittedly hard to quantify, but among Chinese and expat users of both platforms whose opinions I've solicited, the consensus is that there seems to be a greater percentage of China's business, media, and academic elite actively using Weibo than is true of their counterparts in the United States or Europe using Twitter. The reason? In the West, Twitter is just one of many sources of unfiltered information, whereas in China, access to unfiltered information is harder to come by; microblogs are almost the only game in town. This gives the platform special potency in China.
Weibo spreads fact and fiction alike, at warp speed. It has been used by top businessmen to personally announce their resignation ("Friends, relatives and colleagues, I am giving up everything and eloping with Wang Qin," the tycoon Wang Gongquan blogged in May) and meanwhile used by pseudo-scientists to allege that dam construction impacts the weather. Sometimes it's hard to separate the untrue from the merely unusual.
But let's qualify: Weibo users only really have access to initially unfiltered information. Like all Chinese Internet companies, Sina, the company that owns and operates Weibo, must maintain its own in-house censorship staff. Part of what they do is routine: ensuring that topics that are clearly always sensitive (critiques of current party leadership; the Dalai Lama; etc.) do not become flashpoints. Part of what these censors do is respond to real-time government directives about discussion topics that have arisen suddenly and are deemed too sensitive, and so need to be contained. In such instances, through a combination of automated mechanisms (i.e., rendering certain search terms temporarily inoperable) and manually taking down content,the censors try to put the cat back in the bag, as it were. This is what happened in the case of the Jiang Zemin rumors.
Of course, this means that the censors -- both government directors and in-house corporate censors -- are always a few steps behind the rumors, waiting and watching for discussions to erupt and then trying to quiet them again. It's a precarious effort. A few years ago, several competing microblogging platforms existed in China, but Weibo has since emerged as the clear winner -- in no small part because its parent company, Sina, has figured out how to manage the tricky balance between allowing enough discussion to satisfy users and acting quickly to stifle it when need be. Of course, the company needs the government's approval to keep from being shut down, and for now, it's earned it.
Still, the Jiang Zemin rumors, whatever truth lies behind them, seems to have caught everyone off guard -- spreading nationally, and then internationally, extremely quickly. And speculation still simmers.
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