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They’ve gone after bloggers, journalists, artists, comedians and celebrity chefs. Now, some of China’s most zealous online nationalists have a new target in their crosshairs: the country’s first officially recognized Nobel laureate.
Mo Yan, a novelist best known for his earthy tales of rural life in China, sparked national pride when he became the first Chinese citizen to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2012. A top Communist Party official sent a letter of congratulations, hailing his win as a reflection of the rise of Chinese literature and the country’s “overall national strength and international influence.”
More than a decade on, the 69-year-old writer is under fire from a belligerent brand of nationalism that has thrived under Xi Jinping, China’s most authoritarian leader in decades.
Under Xi, the Communist Party has cracked down on dissenting views, including those seen as straying from its official narrative on history. That has spurred a growing army of nationalist commentators to wage a social media crusade against “harmful” comments about the country’s past, especially depictions that cast the party in a less glorious light.
Among those leading the charge is Wu Wanzheng, a self-proclaimed patriotic blogger who goes by the online name of “Truth-Telling Mao Xinghuo.” For over a year, Wu has hurled attacks at Mo and his novels, accusing them of “distorting history” and smearing the Communist Party’s revolutionary legacy.
His campaign drew wide attention last month, when the blogger announced he would sue the celebrated writer, whose real name is Guan Moye, for insulting national heroes and martyrs – a crime punishable by up to three years in prison under a law passed in 2018.
Wu listed dozens of alleged transgressions in Mo’s books, including his acclaimed novel “Red Sorghum,” a story of love and resistence spanning three generations of a rural Chinese family in the 20th century, starting from the early years of the war against Japanese invasion.
Citing excerpts of the book, Wu took issue with Mo’s characters in the Communist army who didn’t want to fight the Japanese. He also accused Mo of glorifying Japanese invaders by portraying some of them as handsome.
“As an upright and patriotic young man, I am outraged. Does our country tolerate such behavior?” he wrote.
Wu demanded Mo apologize and offer 1 yuan ($0.14) to each Chinese citizen as compensation. He also wanted Mo’s “problematic books” to be taken off the shelves across China, according to his posts on Weibo, where he now boasts nearly 220,000 followers.
‘Chilling effect’
Wu’s attempt to take Mo to court sparked heated debate online on the excesses of nationalism, censorship and the shrinking space for artistic and cultural freedoms.
But while many nationalist users cheered Wu on, others came to Mo’s defense likening the attack to the specter of Mao’s tumultuous Cultural Revolution, when intellectuals and artists were denounced, publicly humiliated and beaten by young Red Guards.
“Over the years, our society has become increasingly intolerant and full of taboos,” Zhang Yongsheng, a writer and literature professor at the Tongji University in Shanghai, wrote in a commentary on social media.
“If I don’t speak up this time, more writers, including myself, could be sued in the future; more professors, including myself, could be convicted for their words.”
Even Hu Xijin, the former editor-in-chief of the hardline tabloid Global Times, appeared alarmed by the nationalist outburst. He accused Wu of creating a publicity stunt by “maliciously framing” the Nobel laureate and taking his words out of context. (Wu has hit back and vowed to launch a separate lawsuit against Hu.)
Throughout the controversy, Mo, whose pen name means “don’t speak,” has kept his silence in public. Chinese authorities and state media have also refrained from weighing in.
Many are waiting to see how the government will react. Wu’s attempt to file a civilian lawsuit against Mo was rejected by a court in Beijing, citing insufficient information. The blogger is now trying to file a public interest lawsuit instead.
Murong Xuecun, an independent Chinese writer and renowned novelist who now lives in exile, said the “chilling effect” of Xi’s crackdown on free speech had spurred the attacks against Mo.
“Xi has encouraged the eradication of all dissenting voices. Under such a political environment, the nationalist bloggers often swarm in to find anything they can attack to show that they are more loyal to Xi’s regime,” he said.
Balancing act
Born into a farming family in rural Shandong province, Mo grew up in poverty, hunger and the turbulence of the Mao era. He dropped out of primary school during the Cultural Revolution and spent his teenage years toiling on farms. At 21, he enlisted in the army; a few years later, he started writing fiction while serving as a military officer.
Mo’s novels are often set against the backdrop of modern China, from the Japanese invasion and the Great Famine to the Cultural Revolution. Laced with fantasy, satire and a dark sense of humor, his stories depict the struggle, suffering and resilience of ordinary individuals, without shying away from the brutality, greed and corruption under Communist rule.
“Literature should never be a tool for singing praises. Literature and art should expose darkness and reveal social injustice, which includes revealing the dark side of the human soul and what evil is made of,” he said in a speech in Hong Kong in 2005.
At times, his writing may seem to be flirting dangerously close with crossing the party’s red lines. But most of Mo’s works, composed during a period of relative openness in China, were able to pass censors – and some of them went on to win major domestic literary awards.
In public, Mo played a delicate balancing act, carefully avoiding comments that would upset authorities. In 2011, he was named the vice chairman of the state-run Chinese Writers Association – an appointment that could not have been made without the blessing of the party.
Mo’s good standing with the Chinese government has stirred controversy after his Nobel win. Some criticized Mo for not speaking up for fellow Chinese laureate Liu Xiaobo, the jailed dissident who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2008 (Liu later died in custody); others questioned if Mo deserved the Literature Prize, which is often given to writers who forcefully oppose political repression.
The prize brought Mo world recognition, but also greater scrutiny at home. In the ensuing years, the writer who once prided himself on telling the truth has increasingly toed the party line in public speeches.
In 2013, months after Xi came to power, Mo delivered a searing defense of Chairman Mao, comparing those seeking to “deny, demonize and caricaturize” the supreme leader to “earthworms trying to shake a big tree.”
And in 2016, Mo lavished praise on Xi at a meeting of the Chinese Writers Association, describing the leader as “a great person, a well-read person, a person with a high appreciation of art and a true expert.”
“General Secretary Xi is our reader, our friend, and – of course – our ideological guide,” he told his fellow writers who had gathered in Beijing from across the country.
Murong, the exiled writer, doesn’t believe Mo was speaking his mind.
“The way I understand it is that these are the survival skills Mo has chosen to adopt given the (political) environment,” he said.
Nevertheless, Mo’s effusive praises were not enough to protect him against the nationalist attacks.
In 2022, Sima Nan, a nationalist pundit known for his inflammatory criticism of the United States, famously accused Mo’s Nobel win of being a Western effort to smear China.
“This just shows how bad the situation for free speech has become,” Murong said. “More writers will be thinking: no one is safe.”
