Bill Birtles - The Truth about China: Propaganda, Patriotism and the Search for Answers

'A compelling, clear-eyed yet colourful tale of a changing China and the rise and fall of Australias relationship with this newly assertive superpower. A riveting read of modern China from a young Australian living on the inside.Fran Kelly

Bill Birtles was the ABCs China correspondent in Beijing from 2015 to 2020, his posting coming to a sudden end when he was rushed out of the country by Australian diplomats in an unprecedented diplomatic standoff. Reporting from both major cities and remote provinces throughout the mainland, Hong Kong and Taiwan, he covered an era-defining period of change, upheaval and diplomatic tension as China asserted itself on the world stage. Originally from Sydney, Birtles first studied Mandarin in the Chinese capital and later worked inside the governments most important state media and propaganda organ, the Xinhua newsagency, before returning to Beijing for the ABC. He is now covering South-East Asia as the ABCs Indonesia Bureau Chief, based in Jakarta.

First published in 2021

Copyright Bill Birtles 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

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For Casper

I hope you live a big life

At about half past five in the afternoon on 31 August 2020, I received the call that changed everything. I was in my office, furiously tapping out a big story that would erupt across the screens of Australian news outlets, when my phone rang.

It was one of the managers from International News back in Sydney. His tone serious, he told me that DFATthe Department of Foreign Affairs and Tradehad just called the ABC.

And two other media outlets.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I banged the phone on my desk, my two colleagues outside my office wondering what on earth was going on.

Im just about to file this and they must be ringing up all the media to leak it, I exclaimed down the phone. It was a major scoop exposing just how dire the situation had become in China, and Id had it on my own.

The manager was confused. He wasnt ringing about that or any other story. Im calling to tell you the Australian government wants to get you out of China, he said.

We were talking about the same topic and didnt even realise it.

Hours before, Id stumbled upon what appeared to be a massive escalation in Chinas aggression towards Australia. Although I felt like the last person in Beijing to know about it, the story somehow hadnt been reported.

On a quiet street surrounded by embassies, I met a contact who for two weeks had fended off questions and rumours about someone close to him being in trouble. He confirmed that Cheng Lei, a Chinese-Australian TV anchor well known to Australians in Beijing, had been taken from her apartment and detained by state security police.

Lei, a mother of a ten-year-old girl and eight-year-old boy, was sociable, down to earth and irreverently funny. Well-liked and respected, she didnt feel the need to defend the more egregious propaganda editorial lines of her employer, CGTN, Chinas government mouthpiece television network. As an anchor and business reporter, she was a step removed from CGTNs more political roles, and she had no problem taking the piss out of her situation as an Australian fronting Chinas highly nationalistic voice.

I knew her personally but not particularly well. A few years earlier wed jointly hosted a gala event for the Australian business chamber, and more recently Id spoken to her at a few social events, but I wasnt aware that her close friends and colleagues had been harbouring increasing concerns for her welfare.

My first inkling of a major diplomatic crisis had come from an unlikely source. Zoe Daniel, the former ABC Washington bureau chief and a colleague I hadnt had much to do with, messaged me out of the blue to ask if I knew Cheng Lei.

Yes, why?

Journalists from CGTNs Washington bureau had told Zoe that they couldnt reach Cheng Lei, and her WeChat moments feed had gone silenta stark contrast to the regular work-related updates and pictures of her kids. Her last post from 13 August was about the opening of Shake Shack in Beijingabout two weeks earlier. I didnt look at WeChat posts much, but her friends who did knew the silence online was uncharacteristic. Zoe wanted to know if I knew anything.

Her inquiry surprised me. I doubt Cheng Leis in trouble, I said. Everyone always assumed the worst in China when often there was an innocuous explanation. I remembered a joke message Id sent to Lei on WeChat almost two weeks earlier that went unanswered, but I didnt think much of it at the time.

But it was very weird, so I went straight to a close friend of Cheng Leis who would know if anything was wrong. The friend, known for being direct and honest, told me that Cheng Lei had gone back to Australia due to a pretty serious personal crisis, which explained why her employer was hushing up her sudden departure.

In one of my poorer moments of journalistic judgement, I bought the story. In hindsight it had some pretty big holes in it. Suddenly flying from China to Australia during the Covid pandemic wasnt easythere werent even direct flights from Beijing. But my contact was known for not bullshitting, and would know better than anyone else if anything was happening.

I messaged Zoe to tell her what Id been told, joking, Glad she hasnt been taken by the Chinese cops.

Those nonchalant words were still on my message screen five days later when Zoe texted again. Her contacts at CGTN in Washington had noticed what I failed to check. Not only had Cheng Lei gone mute, but also her presence on CGTNs website and social-media accounts had been meticulously purged. Page by page, video after video, anyone looking for this star of the network received a 404 error message.

I went back to my contact, who, face to face over a flat white, confessed that the concerns about Cheng Lei were real, and the window for her arrest to be quietly worked out behind closed doors had closed.

Cheng Lei, he said, had been taken from her apartment, her computer and devices had been seized, and Australian diplomats had already held their first consular visit with her over video chat. She was being held in Beijing under the dreaded residential surveillance at a designated location, an Orwellian legal procedure unique to China that seeks to mask enforced disappearance as something akin to house arrest. It means youve been physically arrested and detained by police, usually at a prison-like facility, and denied access to lawyers and family. Officially you havent even been formally arrested, let alone charged. Investigators can shut off detained suspects from the outside world and interrogate them for six months while they build a case. Its an unimaginably powerful legal tool for authorities to use and abuse.