As the global internet splinters into nationally-regulated zones, many world leaders look with jealousy at China's ability to control its digital "town square." Despite public criticism, the Chinese model of a managed internet appeals to governments seeking greater control over online discourse, even in democracies.
Despite different political systems, the US and Chinese internets have converged because power is highly centralized. Whether it's a government controlling platforms like Weibo or tech oligarchs like Elon Musk controlling X, the result is a small group dictating the digital public square's rules.
Contrary to the common narrative of a stifling 'crackdown,' Joe Tsai argues China's increased tech regulation established a 'new normal' that is better for business. By clarifying the 'red lines' around monopoly and privacy, the government created a more predictable environment, which is preferable to the previous era of unchecked, chaotic competition.
Social media platform Weibo outcompeted rivals not with better features, but by being more effective at censoring content during political unrest in 2009. While other platforms were shut down by the government, Weibo's adeptness at content moderation ensured its survival and subsequent market dominance.
The political anxiety around AI stems from leaders' recent experience with social media, which acted as an "authority destroyer." Social media eroded the credibility of established institutions and public narrative control. Leaders now view AI through this lens, fearing a repeat of this power shift.
The Chinese censorship ecosystem intentionally avoids clear red lines. This vagueness forces internet platforms and users to over-interpret rules and proactively self-censor, making it a more effective control mechanism than explicit prohibitions.
When direct censorship is unconstitutional, governments pressure intermediaries like tech companies, banks, or funded NGOs to suppress speech. These risk-averse middlemen comply to stay in the government's good graces, effectively doing the state's dirty work.
China's national AI strategy is explicit. Stage one is using AI for Orwellian surveillance and population control within its borders. Stage two is to export this model of technological authoritarianism to other countries through initiatives like the "Digital Silk Road," posing a major geopolitical threat.
America's historical Western frontier served as a societal escape valve, allowing people to opt out and build anew. For a time, the open internet served a similar function. As the digital frontier is increasingly regulated and controlled, that pressure may build and fuel political discontent.
Internet platforms like Weibo don't merely react to government censorship orders. They often act preemptively, scrubbing potentially sensitive content before receiving any official directive. This self-censorship, driven by fear of punishment, creates a more restrictive environment than the state explicitly demands.
Censorship in China operates less through direct orders and more through an atmosphere of unpredictable threat. Like an anaconda sleeping in a chandelier above a dinner party, the state's potential to strike at any moment for any reason causes individuals to self-censor constantly, stifling creativity and open discourse.