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Telegraph
8 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Beijing turns to influencers to peddle Chinese propaganda
When American YouTuber IShowSpeed – real name Darren Watkins Jr – came across a dancing car in China's technology hub of Shenzhen, he reacted in typically breathless fashion. 'You see what I'm talking about?' he shouts at the camera. 'This is where they be making this stuff at – it's Shenzhen!' It was one of many effusive outbursts during a livestream stretching almost six hours, in which the social media star ordered a KFC by drone, rode in a flying car and bought a Huawei triple-folding phone. The video by IShowSpeed, who has more than 40m subscribers on YouTube, was perhaps the clearest example yet of Western influencers promoting China's technological capabilities and culture. It marks a new frontier in Chinese propaganda efforts, as the country seeks to control the narrative overseas and not just at home. Russia and China are already believed to be spending as much as £8bn a year to bolster their media presence globally, primarily in developing countries in the Middle East, Africa and Latin America. It is a trend that has raised particular concerns in Britain amid crippling cuts to the BBC World Service. However, China's latest initiative to attract influencers, described as the 'ultimate cultural exchange', demonstrates a more concerted effort to win hearts and minds. The Communist Youth League of China is inviting influencers under the age of 35 with more than 300,000 social media followers to apply to take part in a 10-day trip that will include visits to Suzhou, Shanghai, Shenzhen, Handan and Beijing. Successful applicants can apply to have their travel expenses reimbursed. For government officials, the motive is clear. By harnessing the 'authentic' voices of influencers, Beijing wants to target a more subtle way of spreading soft power. 'It's becoming more sophisticated,' says Neil O'Brien, of the China Research Group of Tory MPs. 'Less crass stuff and more new media. Lord knows how much they are spending.' Helena Ivanov, at the Henry Jackson Society think tank, adds: 'I think many people are, to a certain degree, underestimating the extent to which China is investing in disinformation because China doesn't necessarily do it in an in-your-face style like, for example, Russia does. 'But the fact that it's under the radar doesn't mean that it's not out there and I think China has been very good at capturing the ways through which it can disseminate its disinformation.' What's more, publishing content on online platforms such as YouTube allows China to present its message to younger audiences. Instagram, YouTube, Facebook, TikTok and X were the top five news sources used by 16 to 24-year-olds last year, according to Ofcom. A recent survey by Ipsos found that almost half of young people trust influencers, while 55pc get news from them every day. This is particularly concerning given some of their content. It doesn't take long on social media to find British vloggers posting fluffy videos from the Xinjiang province that play down concerns about alleged human rights abuses against Uyghur Muslims. Others post videos vowing to give their subscribers the 'truth' about China and expose Western media 'lies'. Such claims have fuelled concerns that Beijing is using sites such as TikTok, owned by Beijing-headquartered ByteDance, to spread its propaganda. The latest initiative also suggests Beijing is formalising a strategy already deployed by some of its companies. In 2023, Chinese fast fashion brand Shein, which has been accused of using forced labour and other human rights abuses, invited influencers on an all-expenses-paid trip to its manufacturing facilities in Guangzhou. The result was unsurprising. In one now-deleted video, influencer Destene Sudduth, who has 4m followers on TikTok, claimed to have seen clean factories and happy workers. Shein has said it has a zero-tolerance policy on forced labour and is committed to respecting human rights. For Beijing, though, the influencer push hints at a more understated method. Rather than ramming its political points home via state media, the regime is seeking alternative means to burnish China's credentials as a technological and cultural hub. With TikTok dominating the social media sphere and as more Westerners turn to Chinese-made phones and electric cars, authorities are hoping to transform the country into a desirable – even fashionable – brand. In turn, China hopes young people in the West will be willing to overlook the country's questionable track record on democracy and human rights. Meanwhile, China's efforts to open its doors to social media stars are particularly striking given Donald Trump's apparent determination to do the opposite. Khaby Lame, often considered the world's biggest TikTok personality, has left the US after being targeted in Trump's immigration crackdown. Others also point to the fact that the US president is still considering a potential ban or forced sale of TikTok, though this week he gave the company a third reprieve by granting it an extra 90 days to find a buyer. Yet efforts to silence influencers are not only undemocratic; they are also unlikely to work. Enterprising streamers will simply decamp to a different platform, experts say, as many TikTokers have already demonstrated by setting up on rival YouTube Shorts. Ivanov says China's increasing use of influencers is 'extremely concerning'. 'You can't stop it any more. Pandora's box has opened,' she adds. As a result, she suggests that the West cannot ignore China's sophisticated new soft power strategy.
ABC News
01-05-2025
- Politics
- ABC News
How a stage-managed vote in China shaped my first real vote in Australia's federal election
Along with a record number of early voters, I have just cast my ballot in Australia's 2025 federal election — the first free vote of my life. For most Australians, voting is a routine civic duty, often accompanied by sausage sizzles, crowded polling booths, and familiar arguments about which party will "fix" the economy. For me, it was a moment that carried the weight of memory — and a hard-won freedom. I was 16 years old when I cast my first vote at high school in China, after the school suddenly ordered all staff and students into the indoor stadium. Later, I learned the vote was for a district representative to the Communist Youth League — a pathway towards membership of the ruling Communist Party. The scene remains vivid in my mind: red curtains and flags covering the stage, and three giant red banners hanging from the ceiling, each bearing only a name. Below them stood three large red boxes. There were no speeches. No policies. No chance to ask questions. As I stood there, trying to figure out who the candidates were, a teacher quietly moved through our ranks, telling us: vote for the second candidate. So I did. We all did. I wondered: if the outcome was already decided, why go through the motions? Our textbooks told us China practised democracy. But here we were, performing a strange kind of theatre, where choice was an illusion and disobedience was almost impossible. When I shared my confusion with my mother that evening, she simply laughed. "Welcome to the real world," she said. "One day you will see what a vote in Australia or the United States looks like." But it wasn't until years later that I truly grasped the difference between democracy that is claimed —and democracy that is lived. Peter Khalil, the Labor member for Wills, hands me my Australian citizen certificate. ( Supplied: Bang Xiao ) Democracy is not perfect It was a simple act, over in a matter of minutes. I walked into the early voting centre, showed my ID, collected my ballot papers and quietly filled them in. Voting this week, in an ordinary suburban booth, I realised how extraordinary the ordinary can be. Loading YouTube content In my Melbourne electorate of Wills, cynicism runs high and trust in politicians wavers. Yet beneath the noise and imperfections lies something precious: the genuine ability to choose. My family back home was full of questions. "Which person did you vote for the prime minister role?" my father asked eagerly. I explained that Australia doesn't have a presidential system where the leader is elected directly, but rather a parliamentary one. Read more about the federal election: Want even more? Here's where you can find all our 2025 He sounded surprised. "I thought it was the same as the US election. Do Australians know that?" he asked. I laughed. Not everyone, I said, but democracy here is like the air — so natural that people sometimes forget it exists. In Australia, it is a quiet, living reality — present even when invisible, important even when overlooked. In China, democracy was a chapter in a textbook. My father sees the political chaos in the United States as evidence of democracy struggling. The ongoing tariff war between Chinese President Xi Jinping and US President Donald Trump has led to broader questions about democracy and governance. ( Reuters ) Yet at the same time, he fully supported me becoming a citizen of a democratic country, even though the price was having to renounce my Chinese citizenship. It's not a contradiction. It reflects a view common among many Chinese people: nothing is perfect, and very little in the world is black and white. Some in Australia have also questioned whether democracy still "works". The chaos of the US-China trade war deepened this conversation, not only within Chinese communities, but across the world. The re-election of Donald Trump has triggered fierce debate: is democracy too chaotic? Is the Chinese model more stable, more efficient? Photo shows A crowd pulses through the city The recent debate and policy approach highlights a deeper issue in how we view and treat those who come to Australia seeking better opportunities. Some went further, suggesting the United States was undergoing its own "Cultural Revolution", amid rising polarisation, political violence, and distrust in institutions. It is tempting, sometimes, to draw parallels. Democracies can look messy. They can fail to deliver clear outcomes. They can feel broken. But standing in that voting booth, I was reminded of how different it feels when you have lived under an authoritarian system. You cannot compare a system where leaders change by force to one where leaders change by votes. You cannot compare a system where the public has no real voice to one where every vote counts. No, democracy is not perfect. But democracy is not about perfection. It is about the right of participation. It is about the right to question, to choose, and to be heard. I arrived in Australia in 2007 as an international student, and in 2023, I finally began the journey towards citizenship. ( Supplied ) AI is a game-changer for first-time voters New Australians like me — especially migrants who have come from vastly different political systems — have often been viewed as a "wildcard" in elections. Historically, we have been seen as less politically engaged, or easily swayed by cultural or linguistic barriers. But the 2025 federal election tells a more complicated story. For many new Australians, the journey towards full political participation is no longer filled with as many obstacles as before. Most people in the community have not had the opportunity, like me, to cover multiple elections as a journalist. For many, the ballot paper can still feel intimidating. Photo shows The blue-and-white Vote compass logo: The words, with a tick through the "o" of "Vote". The ABC's Vote Compass can help you understand your place in the political landscape. Long lists of candidates. Complicated instructions. Political parties that often communicate in broad slogans rather than clear policies. For voters whose first language is not English, understanding the nuances of party platforms and policy debates requires extra effort. But this time, something was different: artificial intelligence is helping. From Chinese-language voter guides to AI translations and digital campaigns on WeChat and Xiaohongshu, AI is playing a role in keeping new voters informed in their own language. The community is as diverse and dynamic as any other. Younger generations, in particular, are dramatically less tied to the traditional leanings of their parents and grandparents. They are navigating Australian politics on their own terms. Though technology has its dark sides, it doesn't only make voting easier. It also helps break the language barrier, making an informed vote a more powerful one. The first vote with a tough moment Photo shows Collage of Australian politicians on Red. Of Red's 150 million active users, almost 700,000 are based in Australia. That presents both opportunities and risks for Australian politicians. Even my first vote in Australia came with an unexpected complication. When I arrived at the early voting centre to film my experience as a journalist, I was genuinely excited. I wanted to capture the moment — not just for myself, but for others who might relate to the feeling of casting a real vote for the first time. But that excitement quickly turned into something else. A volunteer stopped me and asked me not to record. It was a fair request — but what followed was a surprise. She asked to see my press pass, then scoffed and claimed she could make a similar one herself. Then she yelled at me to leave, threatening to call the police. I stopped filming immediately and spoke to the Australian Electoral Commission's on-site manager, who came over to explain that I had a media appointment with their team. But the woman refused to listen and told me to "go away". I didn't feel trusted — not as a voter, and not as a journalist. But I knew not everyone was like that. A few people in the line smiled and congratulated me on voting for the first time. That kindness meant a lot. Democracy isn't just about voting. For people from a minority background like me, it's about being seen — as part of the public we all belong to. In both China and Australia, my first voting experiences came with something I didn't expect — being present, but not fully seen. As I placed my ballot into the box, I thought again of that day nearly 20 years ago — standing under three giant banners, confused and obedient. At least this time, there was no one telling me what to do. No predetermined outcome. No fear. Just a simple choice. Voting doesn't make a country perfect, but it makes change possible. It makes hope real. And for new Australians like me, it is the quiet proof that democracy — for all its flaws, frustrations, and noise — is still something worth believing in. Loading Having problems seeing this form? Try
