BEIJING (AP) 鈥� Investigative journalist Wang Zhi鈥檃n once exposed corruption, land seizures, and medical malpractice in China, with millions of viewers and a powerful platform: state broadcaster CCTV.
Wang now lives alone in central Tokyo after being blacklisted in his homeland. His journey from on-air personality at the heart of China鈥檚 vast state media apparatus to reporter in exile illustrates how even government-backed critical reporting has been curtailed under Xi Jinping, China鈥檚 most authoritarian leader since Mao Zedong.
Unlike many muckrakers, Wang hasn鈥檛 given up. Deep in debt and armed with little more than a laptop, a tripod, and a camera borrowed from a friend, Wang is back in business 鈥� this time on YouTube and Twitter, both banned in China.
鈥淗ere I can tell the truth, and nobody will restrict me anymore,鈥� Wang said, sitting in his Tokyo studio, a living room in his modest three-story walk-up.
Thousands of delegates are congregating in Beijing this week to reaffirm Xi as leader of the ruling Communist Party for , at the country's most important political meeting in a decade. Fearing arrest, Wang said he won't return until Xi is out of power.
鈥淗e demands absolute obedience,鈥� Wang said. 鈥淭he media has become like the army: a tool that pledges unconditional allegiance to the party.鈥�
Under Xi, China's once feisty reporters have fallen in line. The Communist Party's propaganda arm has taken direct control of agencies managing newspapers, broadcasters, and radio stations. A powerful new agency has silenced critical voices on the internet, creating a vast censorship apparatus powered by thousands of censors.
Privately, many Chinese journalists say Xi has quashed independent reporting. Publicly, they stay silent. Xi鈥檚 very name is mouthed carefully, in scripted lines, whispers or pseudonyms.
鈥淭he change these past 10 years has been dramatic,鈥� said Zhan Jiang, a retired professor of journalism at Beijing Foreign Studies University.
Wang never imagined a life outside China. A native of mountainous Shaanxi province, Wang joined CCTV in 1998 after obtaining a master's in history.
At the time, Chinese media was on the cusp of what Wang calls a 鈥済olden age.鈥� Investigative journalism flourished under then-leader Jiang Zemin, who talked Tibet and Taiwan with Western journalists, and Zhu Rongji, a tough, reform-minded premier who battled corruption.
It nurtured hopes of reform in China鈥檚 one-party state 鈥� more like Singapore than the former Soviet Union, with some space for free discussion.
鈥淛ust because China is under the leadership of the Communist Party doesn鈥檛 mean it can鈥檛 have an active media,鈥� said Zhan, the retired professor.
At CCTV, Wang was first a producer, then commentator, before he moved to investigations in 2011.
There, he developed a reputation as a tough, experienced journalist, two former CCTV employees said, though they added his critical tendencies could make him difficult to work with. They declined to be named to speak candidly about Wang.
Soon after, Xi took power in 2012. At first, Wang looked forward to the new leadership. With the country鈥檚 economic boom, in brazen backdoor deals, their sons and daughters flashing Rolexes and across Beijing鈥檚 flyovers.
Xi promised to change all that, vowing to crush corruption. He visited a humble bun shop, portraying himself as a man of the people.
The crackdown came. Banquets were banned, red carpets rolled up, and thousands of officials arrested.
But as Xi consolidated power, signs of trouble started emerging at CCTV. Controls tightened. One by one, top reporters trickled out.
Then, in 2016, Xi visited CCTV and other state media.
"Party media should be surnamed the party,鈥� he declared, urging loyalty to the Communist Party above all else.
鈥淲e knew then there would be earth-shattering changes,鈥� Wang said.
Though Xi was combating corruption, instead of wielding transparency and the rule of law, Xi empowered a secretive organ of the party to detain officials instead.
鈥淴i doesn鈥檛 think the media should be a watchdog,鈥� Wang said. 鈥淗e thinks they just need to be propaganda organs.鈥�
The final straw, he said, was when an investigation he worked on for months was killed.
It was an expose of Beijing鈥檚 ambulance dispatch system. Through backdoor connections, Wang found, an official had set up a parallel network that whisked patients to a second-rate clinic in Beijing鈥檚 far north, generating revenue for hospital management but causing life-threatening delays.
But days before Wang鈥檚 story went to air, the party's Central Propaganda Department said it was canning the story. Infuriated, Wang stopped coming to work, then resigned.
It wasn鈥檛 just CCTV. Across China, thousands of journalists quit the industry.
At Caixin, a respected financial magazine, the politically connected editor-in-chief stepped aside. At the Beijing Daily News, a tabloid with a rebellious streak, the publisher stepped down and was later detained. At Southern Weekly, a revered liberal broadsheet, propaganda officials tangled with reporters.
Wang tried to continue. He switched outlets, hosting an interview show online that garnered tens of millions of views. But in June 2019, Wang鈥檚 social media accounts were suddenly deleted, depriving him of millions of followers.
Overnight, Wang was politically toxic. His new outlet, once eager to capitalize on his star power, backed out of renewing his contract.
For a couple of years, Wang mulled what to do. The pandemic left him stranded during a visit to Japan, and when he returned to Beijing late last year, he heard he wouldn鈥檛 be able to work in media again. If he wanted to stay in China, Wang realized, he鈥檇 have to quit the job he loved.
Wang made his choice: He bought a one-way ticket back to Japan.
鈥淚 can鈥檛 go on in China,鈥� Wang said. 鈥淚f I became a public relations director, it鈥檇 be a betrayal of my career.鈥�
Now, Wang is teaching himself Japanese. He has learned how to edit video on his own and operate on a shoestring budget.
Since he started broadcasting in May, he has attracted many viewers, with nearly half a million followers on Twitter and 400,000 subscribers on YouTube. Though both are banned in China, Wang hopes his reports will trickle over China鈥檚 Great Firewall and into the country.
His aim, Wang said, is fact-based news for mainland Chinese, one that stands apart from conspiracy-laden competitors driven by hatred of the government.
鈥淣obody believes a serious Chinese outlet can be established overseas,鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut I want to give it a try. I think it鈥檚 very important for the whole Chinese-speaking world.鈥�
In July, he spent hundreds of thousands of dollars hiring a crew and flying to Ukraine. Wang said he wanted to bring frontline reporting to a Chinese audience 鈥� pointing out that only one channel viewable in mainland China sent reporters to the war.
The result, he said, was that China鈥檚 coverage of the war was saturated with Russian misinformation.
鈥淪uch a large country with only one source of information on such a huge event,鈥� Wang said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 very sad.鈥�
Wang has plenty of detractors. Nationalists brand Wang a 鈥渢raitor鈥� online, questioning why he lives in Japan and accusing him of peddling 鈥渁nti-China鈥� content. On the other extreme, anti-Beijing activists suspect Wang鈥檚 motives, pointing out he spent decades inside state media toeing the party line.
Zhang Dongshuo, a lawyer in Beijing, said he appreciates Wang鈥檚 channel, tuning in occasionally to get news unavailable on state media. But Zhang added that Wang鈥檚 lack of access has made his reports duller, and the difficulties of scaling China鈥檚 firewall has shrunk his audience.
鈥淚t鈥檚 going to be tough,鈥� Zhang said. 鈥淗e鈥檚 in an awkward situation.鈥�
Still, outside of Xi鈥檚 China, Wang hopes there鈥檚 space for someone like him. He narrates the news, talking China鈥檚 鈥渮ero-COVID鈥� policy and the recent party congress, peppered with observations drawn on his experience inside the system.
At times, he cuts in with commentary.
鈥淲e鈥檒l have to wait till the day journalists can truly express themselves freely,鈥� Wang said, signing off on a recent broadcast. 鈥淚 hope that day comes soon.鈥�
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Associated Press journalist Haruka Nuga in Tokyo contributed to this story.
Dake Kang, The Associated Press
