In a world where free expression and open discourse are considered fundamental rights, the recent death of former Chinese Premier Li Keqiang has once again highlighted the stark contrast in China’s approach to public mourning and the stifling of dissent. Li Keqiang, a 68-year-old technocrat, passed away due to a heart attack in the early hours of a Friday morning in Shanghai. Initially, the Chinese people took to social media with heartfelt condolences and personal reflections, but these moments of genuine mourning quickly gave way to state-controlled uniformity.
The “People’s Premier” as he was affectionately known, enjoyed the admiration of a segment of the Chinese population who saw him as a national leader committed to addressing the concerns of everyday citizens. Li’s legacy was widely celebrated, with individuals sharing video clips of him discussing the challenges faced by Chinese farmers and affectionately referring to him as “the people’s premier.” However, as the day turned into night, most of these personal tributes vanished from the public eye, leaving only state-approved condolences.
The Chinese government’s control over public sentiment was evident on various social media platforms. Personal comments lauding Li’s qualities as a leader were replaced by formulaic expressions of “wishing you a good journey,” akin to “rest in peace.” The suppression of genuine emotions and public discourse was further underscored by the absence of comments on the official government announcement of Li’s death on Weibo, with only tens of thousands of likes and reposts indicating that comments had been disabled.
However, the authorities did not stop at stifling online expressions of grief. Reports emerged of warnings from the government regarding any political postings and use of unapproved words to describe Li. The government also prohibited any public mourning activities, be it laying flowers, holding gatherings, or engaging in any form of public commemoration. This oppressive approach stands in stark contrast to the outpouring of public grief witnessed in 1989 after the sudden death of widely loved premier Hu Yaobang.
The echoes of history are hard to ignore. In 1989, thousands flocked to Tiananmen Square following the death of Hu Yaobang, a moment of collective grief that eventually evolved into a pro-democracy movement, culminating in the tragic Tiananmen Square massacre. It was a period of public turmoil, reflective of deep-seated dissatisfaction with the government. Today, the mourning for Li Keqiang, while
not an endorsement of his performance as premier, serves as an outlet for public frustration with life under Xi Jinping’s rule.
The Chinese government’s clampdown on public mourning and discussion surrounding Li’s legacy is symptomatic of a broader trend in the country. Any discussion of Li Keqiang’s merits or faults is strictly prohibited, leaving citizens with a sense of isolation and disempowerment. Chinese internet users are well aware of the government’s classification of keywords related to Li’s death as having “major political or social sensitivity,” a clear signal that dissent will not be tolerated.
Instead of engaging in genuine discourse about the former premier, users are redirected to state-controlled sources for information. The suppression of public sentiment and control over public discourse is reminiscent of an authoritarian regime that fears even the slightest spark of dissent.
The sensitivity surrounding Li’s death is exacerbated by recent personnel changes at the highest levels of the Chinese government. The sudden removal of defense minister Li Shangfu and foreign minister Qin Gang, both of whom had not been in office for long, has raised questions about the stability of the Chinese leadership. The Chinese government’s rapid personnel changes and the stifling of public discourse add to the perception that China is in a state of turmoil, with an uncertain future.
While Li Keqiang’s legacy may not match that of Hu Yaobang, the Chinese government is determined to prevent any possibility of history repeating itself. The suppression of public mourning is a stark reminder of the Chinese government’s ability to control public sentiment and silence any form of dissent. In the eyes of the Chinese people, Li Keqiang’s death serves as an opportunity to voice their frustrations and concerns. While their voices may be muffled by the state apparatus, the collective sigh over the difficulties of life under Xi Jinping is an expression of a deeper discontent that the Chinese government would do well to heed. Whether or not history will repeat itself remains to be seen, but the government’s determination to prevent it is all too evident.
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