Latest news with #GaoZhen
Washington Post
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
Seven-year-old New Yorker stuck in China over father's political art
This was meant to be the summer Gao Jia finished first grade in New York and spent his school break playing with friends near his home in Long Island or drawing with his father, Gao Zhen, a Chinese artist known for his irreverent caricatures of Mao Zedong, the founder of modern China.
Epoch Times
11-08-2025
- Politics
- Epoch Times
Advocacy Group Urges China to Lift Exit Bans on 7-Year-Old and His Mother
A Chinese mother and her U.S.-born young child are being barred from leaving China after a family trip there last year, marking another case where Beijing has stopped foreigners and Chinese nationals from departing the country. On Aug. 7, the Dui Hua Foundation, a San Francisco-based advocacy group for at-risk detainees in China, raised the plight of the Gao family—permanent U.S. residents Gao Zhen and his wife Zhao Yaliang, and their seven-year-old son, Gao Jia, a U.S. citizen from New York. The senior Gao and his younger brother, Gao Qiang, are well-known as the 'Gao Brothers' for their artworks critical of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). One particularly well-known art piece is a bronze statue of former CCP leader Mao Zedong kneeling, his right hand on his chest with a sorrowful expression. In August last year, Gao Zhen was detained on the charge of 'slandering China's heroes and martyrs' during a family trip. The foundation pointed out that the charge was based on the Heroes and Martyrs Protection Law, which went into effect in 2018, even though his artworks mocking the Chinese regime's leadership were created before 2009. Zhao and her son have been barred from leaving China since the senior Gao's arrest. The foundation questioned why Beijing chose to impose the exit ban on them, noting that neither has been accused of a crime nor is required for any criminal investigation by the Chinese authorities. Unable to return to the United States, the seven-year-old Gao 'has been unable to attend school for a full year,' the foundation added. 'It's one thing to slap exit bans on adult Americans like bankers or government employees, it's an entirely different matter to impose an exit ban on a young child,' John Kamm, executive director of the Dui Hua Foundation, said in a statement. Last month, the Chinese regime announced that it had imposed an exit ban on Mao Chenyue, an Atlanta-based managing director at Wells Fargo, accusing the banker of being 'involved in a criminal case.' Also in July, the U.S. State Department confirmed that a U.S. Patent and Trademark Office employee was being prevented from leaving China after traveling there in a personal capacity. In September last year, the foundation estimated that there were 'more than 300 Americans under coercive measures in China,' and 'more than 30 are under exit bans.' The foundation stated that China's treatment of the younger Gao violates the U.N. Convention on the Rights of the Child, which China signed in 1990 and ratified two years later. As for the senior Gao, the foundation stated that he is scheduled to be tried and sentenced 'in the coming weeks,' and warned that he could receive a long sentence, despite his not guilty plea. 'Charging someone with a crime that was not a crime at the time the alleged offense took place,' Kamm said, 'is a violation of a fundamental principle of justice, the principle of non-retroactive application of the law.' 'The Chinese government must stop persecuting the Gao family. It must free Gao Zhen and lift the exit bans on Gao Jia and his mother and allow them to return to the United States.' New York-based nonprofit, the Human Rights Foundation (HRF), sent a letter dated Oct. 31 last year to the consulate general of China in New York, demanding the senior Gao's immediate and unconditional release. The letter, written by HRF Chief Advocacy Officer Roberto González, argued that his artworks 'are incredibly necessary to educating the world on the truth of Mao's dictatorial legacy.' Mao instigated the Red Guards, who were Chinese high school and university students, to persecute those identified as 'class enemies' of the communist regime, amid the Cultural Revolution that lasted 10 years until Mao's death in 1976. González also argued that Beijing should repeal the Heroes and Martyrs Protection Law to 'safeguard artistic freedom in China.' 'His detention is not just a violation of his rights but a blatant abuse of power and an attack on the fundamental human freedoms of all Chinese people who have the right to learn the truth about dictator Mao Zedong,' the letter reads.
Yahoo
04-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Opinion - When even remembering is a crime: China's Tiananmen Square massacre, 36 years on
An open hand with a bullet wound in the middle probably lies somewhere in the dark security storage of the Sanhe Public Security Bureau. The hand — a painting, not literal rotting flesh — is the artwork of the Gao Brothers titled, 'Memory 1989' or 'Pierced Memory,' a memorial honoring the victims of the Tiananmen Square Massacre that took place 36 years ago today. Like that piece of art, Gao Zhen, one half of the artist duo, sits locked away in a prison cell in Beijing, awaiting sentencing on charges of 'slandering China's heroes and martyrs.' All for drawing attention through art to what Beijing has been trying to erase from history for nearly four decades — the moment when those who fought for freedom were shot down by state bullets. On June 4, 1989, the Chinese Communist Party answered a generation's call for reform, first with silence, then steel, crushing not just bodies but the very idea of political possibility. What began as a tribute to reformist leader Hu Yaobang's death blossomed into a peaceful student-led movement calling for dialogue: press freedom, transparency, anti-corruption measures, and modest democratic reforms. It became one of the largest acts of civil resistance in modern Chinese history, reverberating across 400 cities. At the heart of it all, more than a million people filled Tiananmen Square, their hunger strikes, banners, and speeches illuminating a fragile hope that the system might bend. Instead, the system broke them. Martial law was declared at midnight. In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, some Chinese leaders feared Tiananmen would leave an indelible blemish on the country's history, a lasting memory of the free world that would exclude China from the global order. The fear of isolation never really materialized. At the time, many Western policymakers believed that market reforms would eventually usher in political liberalization. In the years since, the Chinese Communist Party has been debunking the assumption that capitalism necessarily breeds democracy. It has carved out a space on the global stage to accommodate its 'China model' and infiltrate democratic institutions. Far from being a red line others dare to cross, Tiananmen revealed just how much the world was willing to overlook in exchange for market access and profit. Authoritarian regimes have learned they don't need to come out with tanks and guns blazing to debilitate national movements of resistance. The Chinese Communists do it more 'discreetly' now. Like taking quiet but great measures to suppress creative dissent, a form of speech that is filled with illusion and thus difficult to censor, and powerfully evocative, and thus difficult to sanitize. Sanmu Chan, a performance artist and friend of Gao who has continuously posted on Facebook each day since his friend was detained, has faced massive censorship in Hong Kong. In 2024, he was detained for writing '8964' in the air and miming the act of pouring wine onto the ground to symbolize mourning for those massacred during the Tiananmen Square protests. In Hong Kong, Beijing has deployed legal instruments in place of tanks, replacing open violence with legal warfare. What was once a sanctuary for memory is now a place of fear and enforced silence. The annual June 4 vigil at Victoria Park, once the world's largest public remembrance of Tiananmen, has been outlawed and its organizers imprisoned. From Tehran to Moscow, authoritarian leaders across the globe have increasingly employed vaguely worded laws to erase inconvenient history. In Russia, 'memory laws' ban criticism of the Soviet past. In Bangladesh, the rebranded Digital Security Act continues to jail critics for 'hurting national sentiment.' And in Iran, mourning itself became rebellion: on the anniversary of Mahsa Jina Amini's death, her father was detained to prevent a graveside vigil; families of other slain protesters were arrested under vague charges of 'propaganda against the state.' On the other hand, authoritarian states are keen to dictate what should be remembered. Indonesia's government introduced a proposal to name the country's former dictator, Suharto, a national hero despite his record of anti-communist purges that left more than 500,000 dead. The lesson from Tiananmen hasn't been caution, it's coordination. Mass repression, they've realized, need not isolate a regime; it can consolidate alliances. They saw China suffer no lasting consequences for slaughtering its people and how quickly the world resumed business. Now, they are doubling down: partnering not only in repression, but in its global legitimation, so that the next Tiananmen elicits not outrage but a shrug. From voting down a United Nations debate on the Uyghur genocide to shielding Iran from accountability over its crackdown on women protesters from marshalling authoritarian allies to pass Human Rights Council resolutions that shift focus away from civil liberties to advancing the 'non-interference' doctrine, the world's dictatorial regimes are coordinating to resist democratic norms and deflect any scrutiny of their abuses. With Beijing's shift from authoritarian apprentice to global enabler, autocrats are now proactively offering to enforce one another's repressive techniques. However, behind the projection of strength lies a quieter truth: authoritarians govern with deep paranoia. Authoritarianism lacks the feedback loops that allow it to democratically correct itself in open societies. Without the ability to trust its citizens or to distinguish loyalty with silence, it relies on excessive surveillance to preempt any challenges to its rule, and even then, it's failing. The sudden eruption of the White Paper protests during mainland China's zero-COVID era and the unexpected unfurling of pro-democracy banners in Chengdu show that dissent is still possible, even under extreme restrictions. This overreliance on mass surveillance will blind the Chinese Communist Party to genuine social undercurrents that will disrupt its legitimacy as a ruling party. While the regime refines repression, people refine resistance. There is a limit to what software can suppress — and suppression breeds creativity. When authorities silenced slogans, protesters raised blank signs; when images of state violence were scrubbed from the Internet, diaspora artists, technologists, and archivists reassembled them through AI, immersive installations, and blockchain repositories. While the streets of Hong Kong may now fall silent on June 4, Tiananmen's memory has not vanished — it has gone global. From candlelight vigils in Taipei and Vancouver to art installations in Berlin and blockchain memorials hosted on GitHub and IPFS, young members of the diaspora are transforming remembrance into resistance. Even under erasure, memory adapts, resisting disappearance not through defiance alone, but through reinvention. What drove the protesters of 1989 — the demand for dignity, truth, and political voice — now pulses through a generation born after the massacre but unwilling to let it be buried. Attitudes are changing, and the youth are watching. Elisha Maldonado is the director of communications at the Human Rights Foundation. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
04-06-2025
- General
- The Hill
When even remembering is a crime: China's Tiananmen Square massacre, 36 years on
An open hand with a bullet wound in the middle probably lies somewhere in the dark security storage of the Sanhe Public Security Bureau. The hand — a painting, not literal rotting flesh — is the artwork of the Gao Brothers titled, 'Memory 1989' or 'Pierced Memory,' a memorial honoring the victims of the Tiananmen Square Massacre that took place 36 years ago today. Like that piece of art, Gao Zhen, one half of the artist duo, sits locked away in a prison cell in Beijing, awaiting sentencing on charges of 'slandering China's heroes and martyrs.' All for drawing attention through art to what Beijing has been trying to erase from history for nearly four decades — the moment when those who fought for freedom were shot down by state bullets. On June 4, 1989, the Chinese Communist Party answered a generation's call for reform, first with silence, then steel, crushing not just bodies but the very idea of political possibility. What began as a tribute to reformist leader Hu Yaobang's death blossomed into a peaceful student-led movement calling for dialogue: press freedom, transparency, anti-corruption measures, and modest democratic reforms. It became one of the largest acts of civil resistance in modern Chinese history, reverberating across 400 cities. At the heart of it all, more than a million people filled Tiananmen Square, their hunger strikes, banners, and speeches illuminating a fragile hope that the system might bend. Instead, the system broke them. Martial law was declared at midnight. In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, some Chinese leaders feared Tiananmen would leave an indelible blemish on the country's history, a lasting memory of the free world that would exclude China from the global order. The fear of isolation never really materialized. At the time, many Western policymakers believed that market reforms would eventually usher in political liberalization. In the years since, the Chinese Communist Party has been debunking the assumption that capitalism necessarily breeds democracy. It has carved out a space on the global stage to accommodate its 'China model' and infiltrate democratic institutions. Far from being a red line others dare to cross, Tiananmen revealed just how much the world was willing to overlook in exchange for market access and profit. Authoritarian regimes have learned they don't need to come out with tanks and guns blazing to debilitate national movements of resistance. The Chinese Communists do it more 'discreetly' now. Like taking quiet but great measures to suppress creative dissent, a form of speech that is filled with illusion and thus difficult to censor, and powerfully evocative, and thus difficult to sanitize. Sanmu Chan, a performance artist and friend of Gao who has continuously posted on Facebook each day since his friend was detained, has faced massive censorship in Hong Kong. In 2024, he was detained for writing '8964' in the air and miming the act of pouring wine onto the ground to symbolize mourning for those massacred during the Tiananmen Square protests. In Hong Kong, Beijing has deployed legal instruments in place of tanks, replacing open violence with legal warfare. What was once a sanctuary for memory is now a place of fear and enforced silence. The annual June 4 vigil at Victoria Park, once the world's largest public remembrance of Tiananmen, has been outlawed and its organizers imprisoned. From Tehran to Moscow, authoritarian leaders across the globe have increasingly employed vaguely worded laws to erase inconvenient history. In Russia, 'memory laws' ban criticism of the Soviet past. In Bangladesh, the rebranded Digital Security Act continues to jail critics for 'hurting national sentiment.' And in Iran, mourning itself became rebellion: on the anniversary of Mahsa Jina Amini's death, her father was detained to prevent a graveside vigil; families of other slain protesters were arrested under vague charges of 'propaganda against the state.' On the other hand, authoritarian states are keen to dictate what should be remembered. Indonesia's government introduced a proposal to name the country's former dictator, Suharto, a national hero despite his record of anti-communist purges that left more than 500,000 dead. The lesson from Tiananmen hasn't been caution, it's coordination. Mass repression, they've realized, need not isolate a regime; it can consolidate alliances. They saw China suffer no lasting consequences for slaughtering its people and how quickly the world resumed business. Now, they are doubling down: partnering not only in repression, but in its global legitimation, so that the next Tiananmen elicits not outrage but a shrug. From voting down a United Nations debate on the Uyghur genocide to shielding Iran from accountability over its crackdown on women protesters from marshalling authoritarian allies to pass Human Rights Council resolutions that shift focus away from civil liberties to advancing the 'non-interference' doctrine, the world's dictatorial regimes are coordinating to resist democratic norms and deflect any scrutiny of their abuses. With Beijing's shift from authoritarian apprentice to global enabler, autocrats are now proactively offering to enforce one another's repressive techniques. However, behind the projection of strength lies a quieter truth: authoritarians govern with deep paranoia. Authoritarianism lacks the feedback loops that allow it to democratically correct itself in open societies. Without the ability to trust its citizens or to distinguish loyalty with silence, it relies on excessive surveillance to preempt any challenges to its rule, and even then, it's failing. The sudden eruption of the White Paper protests during mainland China's zero-COVID era and the unexpected unfurling of pro-democracy banners in Chengdu show that dissent is still possible, even under extreme restrictions. This overreliance on mass surveillance will blind the Chinese Communist Party to genuine social undercurrents that will disrupt its legitimacy as a ruling party. While the regime refines repression, people refine resistance. There is a limit to what software can suppress — and suppression breeds creativity. When authorities silenced slogans, protesters raised blank signs; when images of state violence were scrubbed from the Internet, diaspora artists, technologists, and archivists reassembled them through AI, immersive installations, and blockchain repositories. While the streets of Hong Kong may now fall silent on June 4, Tiananmen's memory has not vanished — it has gone global. From candlelight vigils in Taipei and Vancouver to art installations in Berlin and blockchain memorials hosted on GitHub and IPFS, young members of the diaspora are transforming remembrance into resistance. Even under erasure, memory adapts, resisting disappearance not through defiance alone, but through reinvention. What drove the protesters of 1989 — the demand for dignity, truth, and political voice — now pulses through a generation born after the massacre but unwilling to let it be buried. Attitudes are changing, and the youth are watching. Elisha Maldonado is the director of communications at the Human Rights Foundation.
Yahoo
12-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Chinese animated blockbuster breaks records, prompts patriotism
Animated Chinese blockbuster "Ne Zha 2", based on traditional mythology, has smashed multiple box office records on its way to becoming the country's most successful movie ever. The tale of a rebellious young deity who battles dragons is the first movie to earn over $1 billion in a single market, overtaking "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" which made $936 million in the United States in 2015. Released on January 29 to coincide with the Lunar New Year holiday, a prime movie-going time in China, the film has reignited the country's film industry after 2024 saw box office receipts slump 23 percent compared to a year earlier. A sequel five years in the making, "Ne Zha 2" -- which draws on the 16th-century novel "Investiture of the Gods" -- has tapped into both growing demand for products that draw from traditional Chinese stories, and national pride in China's technological progress. "Ne Zha is deeply rooted in Chinese culture," 36-year-old Gao Zhen, who watched the movie with his child, told AFP in Beijing. "We resonate with the characters and background." Audiences have also pointed to the movie's special effects as evidence of China's film industry catching up with, or even surpassing, Hollywood's offerings. "Foreign movies may have dazzling visuals, but Chinese cinema has also mastered those techniques now," Gao said. "I used to prefer Western animation, like Disney and Pixar. But now, Chinese animation is getting stronger, and I prefer domestic productions more," 26-year-old media worker Qu Peihong told AFP. - 'Boosted confidence' - The original "Ne Zha" became China's highest grossing animated film after it was released in 2019. "Ne Zha 2" surpassed all former domestic box office record holders -- including the 2019 sci-fi hit "The Wandering Earth" and 2021's patriotic war film "The Battle at Lake Changjin" -- in just nine days. After a barren spell for standout films in China last year, the return of Ne Zha "has boosted people's confidence in the industry", Qu said. According to local media reports, director Jiao Zi, whose real name is Yang Yu, said he originally tried to work with international partners on the film but found the outcomes not up to standard and instead used an all-Chinese team. Some fans have speculated that the film also contains hidden geopolitical symbolism, suggesting the villain's palace is a reference to the US Pentagon or White House, though the filmmakers haven't commented on these rumours. "This film far exceeded my expectations, it was really exciting. When I exited the cinema, I felt a deep sense of pride as a Chinese person," 22-year-old Zhang Zhengfa told AFP. "I think there will be more in the future. I believe this is just the beginning." - 'Rebellion and nonconformity' - The film's success proves that "Chinese animation has grown into a powerhouse and can rival Disney and Japanese animations in the Chinese domestic market", Ying Zhu, author of "Hollywood in China", told AFP. The film has "transformed a traditional folklore into a modern tale of individuality, which struck a chord with audiences", she said. Audiences have chimed with the film's story of "rebellion and nonconformity", similar to how they embraced the plot of hit video game "Black Myth: Wukong" last year, CEO of data company BigOne Lab Robert Wu wrote in his newsletter. "Black Myth" combines the classic 16th-century Chinese novel "Journey to the West" with cutting-edge graphics, and the main character is a fun-loving and defiant Monkey King who battles demons. But while the game became an international best-seller, there is less certainty around how "Ne Zha 2", based on a legend little known outside of China, will be received elsewhere, given the limited reception of the original. "I don't think (foreign audiences) will understand it as deeply as we do," said moviegoer Qu. "But I hope this movie will help them to understand Chinese culture." sam/reb/sco/hmn
