Colloquium on Independent Chinese Media Held at Stanford
Last week, HRIC held a colloquium on strategy and capacity-building for Chinese-language independent media at Stanford University, hosted by the Hoover Institution. Joined by over thirty journalists, activists, professors, and students from the Bay Area and around the world, the event was an opportunity for experts on media, tech, and innovation to come together and share their experiences and recommendations for a stronger Chinese media ecosystem, powered by honest journalism and an active civil society.
Opening remarks were provided by Stanford professor and democracy studies expert Larry Diamond, as well as HRIC Executive Director Zhou Fengsuo. Independent journalism, they asserted, is a key facet of a healthy democracy. Authoritarianism seeks to control the public’s understanding of the truth by dictating the narrative put forth by the media, and to silence all other voices, including civil society and “citizen” journalists. Yet, as Diamond argued, “The struggle we face is not simply one of power and resources. We also face a strategic puzzle: What new tactics, strategies, and tools can independent media pursue to challenge the current dominance of propaganda and censorship?” Speakers offered a diverse array of perspectives and experiences, from breaking past the “Great Firewall” to building strong media coalitions.
Read Zhou Fengsuo’s full remarks below:
Opening Remarks by HRIC Executive Director Zhou Fengsuo
Thank you, Professor Larry Diamond, for your inspiring words and for your long-standing commitment to democracy and freedom. It is a privilege to follow you here at Stanford and to welcome all of you to this important gathering.
My own journey as an activist began on Tiananmen Square in 1989. Among the many demands raised by the students, one stood above all: freedom of the press. We understood instinctively that without a free press, there could be no accountability, no truth, and no possibility of democratic reform.
Journalists responded powerfully to our call. They marched with us. They amplified our voices. The “Voice of Tiananmen” was carried across China and broadcast to the world through their courage and professionalism. During the massacre, many citizen journalists were killed trying to document what was happening. In those dark hours, simply holding a camera became one of the most dangerous acts. Having a camera was often reason enough to be shot at. The regime understood what we all know: truth is powerful.
That history connects directly to why we are here today.
This workshop comes at a critical moment. We are confronting a transformed media landscape: 2022 as a turning point; the evolution of censorship from technical blocking to algorithmic governance; the rebuilding of the Chinese-language media ecosystem in exile; cross-Strait information manipulation; the power of images; and the sovereignty of memory.
And we are having this conversation here at Stanford, the center of innovation. That matters. Because here we must ask a defining question: What will AI bring?
Will artificial intelligence deepen censorship through smarter surveillance, automated narrative control, and synthetic propaganda? Or can it empower journalists, strengthen verification, expand archives, and reconnect fragmented communities across firewalls?
And more importantly: when artificial intelligence can generate images, voices, and entire narratives indistinguishable from reality, what will become the moral authority of the citizen journalist?
If anyone can fabricate “evidence” at scale, how do we protect the credibility of those who risk their lives to document truth?
Will AI drown authentic testimony in oceans of synthetic noise—or can it become a shield that verifies, preserves, and amplifies the voices that power seeks to silence?
Panel II reminds us that censorship has evolved from passive defense to proactive governance shaped by law, capital, algorithms, and now AI. If repression is becoming intelligent, resistance must become intelligent too. If information control is automated, truth-seeking must also innovate.
You are here because you have done extraordinary work under extraordinarily difficult conditions. Independent Chinese-language journalism—whether inside the Great Firewall or in diaspora communities—now operates in an environment of systematic repression, digital totalitarianism, and transnational pressure. And yet, you continue.
This is a time to reflect and to contemplate. It is also a time to 抱团取暖—to huddle together for warmth, to draw strength from one another in a cold and hostile environment. When repression intensifies, isolation becomes one of the regime’s most effective tools. Community is our antidote.
Looking at 2022 as a turning point, we are reminded that media ecosystems are shaped by historical shocks—the chained woman, the White Paper protests, war, lockdowns, and mass emigration. But turning points are not only about events; they are about interpretation. What narratives survived? What forms of storytelling proved resilient? And how do we sustain the courage that was ignited in that year?
As we rethink the Chinese-language media ecosystem, we face structural questions: decentralization, micro-teams, sustainability, diaspora infrastructure. How do we build institutions without becoming rigid? How do we remain agile without becoming fragile?
In the context of cross-Strait tensions and information manipulation, can media still provide a credible public space that reduces miscalculation and fosters understanding? In a polarized and asymmetrical information battlefield, can truth still mediate conflict?
In the age of short video and streaming platforms, when images can both liberate and distort, how do we preserve documentary integrity? In 1989, images broke through censorship. Today, deepfakes and algorithmic amplification complicate the moral clarity of visual truth.
And when we speak of memory—the sovereignty of memory—we must ask: how do we ensure that archives are not only preserved but activated? How do we transform fragmented evidence into narratives with mobilizing power? How do we create embodied collective memory that cannot be erased by algorithms?
We can learn from each other by sharing our past work. But perhaps we can learn even more by asking better questions: questions that unsettle assumptions, provoke deep thought, and inspire renovation.
What would a truly resilient Chinese-language media ecosystem look like ten years from now?
What institutional forms can withstand both state repression and market pressure?
How do we cultivate not just audiences, but citizens?
And how do we ensure that the next generation—those who did not stand in Tiananmen Square, who did not witness 2022—inherit not only our archives, but our courage?
In 1989, we believed that if the truth could reach the people, change would follow. Today, the struggle is more complex, more global, and more technologically mediated. But the principle remains the same.
Truth matters. Community matters. Memory matters.
And here at Stanford, at the frontier of technological change, we must ensure that innovation serves freedom, not repression.
Let us use these two days not only to analyze the crisis, but to imagine the future.
Can those two guys in the picture set foot in China?