It is never easy to discuss Chinese media policies – a labyrinth of rules and regulations that deal with complicated forces and relations of state agencies, market sectors, public opinions at home and abroad, and the larger civil society – not to mention to write a book about it. Luzhou Li, a knowledgeable scholar on digital culture, political economy and China, does so in an elegant, comprehensive and insightful way by zooming into a unique, dynamic yet understudied aspect of the changing Chinese media and society: the evolution of online video industry and culture.
The book proposes the key concept of “cultural zoning” to describe a multi-layered and multi-pronged system of regulations in China's television and online video sectors where capital logic applies to various extents and in different ways (p. 2). This concept helps to demystify how neoliberal practices are localized in China and the role of the Chinese state in such process. As the author has effectively shown throughout the book, a booming online video industry and culture is an intentional making by the state and in collaboration with the market players (pp. 5, 110–111). The six chapters of the book (excluding introduction and epilogue) tell an interweaved and cohesive story of the history, the policy context, the political economy and the culture of online video production, consumption and distribution, through mixed methods of document analysis, interviews and semi-ethnographic observations incorporating unofficial anecdotes and reflections. The combination of different methodologies allows the author to present a vivid picture of the ups and downs of online video development in China, and more importantly, the lived experiences of the people who have witnessed, participated and collectively created this history.
Indeed, one of the impressive strengths of the book is how it integrates the interviews and accounts of different people into the policy discussions, giving them voices and agencies in the grand narrative. Li managed to interview a variety of informants who are content creators, industry workers, active users and observers, regulators and policymakers, and jointly they offer valuable first-hand accounts to enrich our understanding of this history. Among these, the most interesting are the interviews with the surprisingly easy-going staff of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT) (pp. 109, 187–189) and the resilient and sometimes even rebellious Chinese audience members (p. 165). Together they have dismantled the conventional imagination of Chinese media regulators and users that is too often monolithic and homogeneous.
In connection to this is the intense effort in this book to conceptualize the Chinese state. The author successfully shows a dynamic, contested and responsive state, not only through the lively interviews with the state officials that have humanized state actors, but also the detailed analysis on government policies across two decades that are marked by consistencies, conflicts and compromises (pp. 54–73, 86). Specifically, the author borrows an ancient Chinese myth – “nine dragons governing one river” – to document the longstanding tug of wars among various central state agencies rooted in the traditional political philosophy of checks and balances by and for the central power (pp. 96–109). In doing so, the book also reveals some subtle characteristics that are sometimes overlooked: the inter-departmental power struggles resulting in the fragmented and relaxed regulations on online video (chapter four), the inland–coastal differences reflected in the individual producers’ experiences (pp. 123, 195–198), and the urban–rural and class relations that are integral to these developments and changes (pp. 124–126, 195–198). It reminds us to be more careful and specific in thinking of who and what we are actually talking about when asking questions on the Chinese state.
Equally important is the book's contribution to unpacking how censorship works (or not) in China. The author convincingly argues that “understanding China's censorship as dynamic, corresponding to a spectrum of ideologies, a situational and strategic exercise of power in response to specific crises, defined by old and new media forms, allows us to more fully understand China's media realities” (p. 8). As the contextualized policy analysis and interviews with a number of workers in the industry at different periods in this book have shown (pp. 105, 184), censorship in China cannot be oversimplified as mere repression; rather, it should be seen as a complex process of “knowledge production, entailing forms of subjectification” where “positive exercise of power among industry professionals in response to social and moral values” exists (p. 9). This is again crucial to grasp the heterogeneity of media regulations, internet users and the Chinese society at large.
The story of Chinese online video and culture, which this book fills an important gap in understanding, is about the triumphs of an adaptive state, the domestic and foreign capital, the collaborative state–industry relationship, and most importantly, the active and creative Chinese people. The story, however, is unfinished and in fact still unfolding. Many new forms and practices have developed in recent years: the rising popularity of authentic UGC platforms such as Bilibili and short video apps, the massive adoption of online live streaming in e-commerce, the thriving online entertainment and reality shows that have fashioned a pool of high-profile pop idols, the streamlining of online TV production from incubating famous online literature writers to training in-house actors and directors by the leading internet giants, and so on. All of these new practices pose challenging questions to regulators, business actors and scholars. As Li's book sets the foundation to understand them, more updated studies that can connect the global, the historical and the local contexts are urgently needed.
