It was January 2019 when Yang Hengjun traveled to Guangzhou with his wife and child. His friends advised him against going. But Yang was optimistic: He had long since become an Australian citizen. Yes, he had written critically about Beijing’s policies. But his texts had been well contained by the Chinese censors. Yang believed that this meant he would fly under the radar. He was wrong. He disappeared shortly after arriving. His arrest only became known later.
Now it is definitive: Yang Hengjun has been sentenced to death. Marcel Grzanna describes the entire case and shows what signal Beijing wants to send to the Chinese diaspora worldwide with this verdict.
China’s provinces are sending out a completely different signal. China’s economy is in a slump, one crisis follows the next, which is why everyone is waiting for an economic stimulus from Beijing. But it doesn’t seem like there will be one, as Joern Petring reports.
According to his analysis, almost all of China’s provinces have lowered their growth targets this year. This indicates that they are not expecting any significant growth impetus from Beijing. The problem is that the way out of the crisis remains unclear.
And finally, I would like to draw your attention to today’s opinion piece. This time, it offers very personal and also educational insights. A young German-Chinese woman describes her life between negative stereotypes and her efforts to live up to all expectations.
Many Chinese consider foreign citizenship an attractive means of escaping state repression in the People’s Republic. However, the new papers only offer limited protection against repression. One tragic example is publicist Yang Hengjun, whose Australian passport did not save him from a harsh court sentence. As was announced on Monday, Yang was sentenced to death for alleged espionage.
The sentence is expected to be commuted to life imprisonment in the next two years. However, it is very likely that the critic of Chinese human rights policy will not leave prison alive. Yang’s physical condition has deteriorated dramatically since his arrest around five years ago. His family has stated that the 58-year-old has been tortured and interrogated over 300 times. During these interrogations, the investigators reportedly forced Yang to make confessions that, in the worst-case scenario, cost him his life.
However, it is still unclear who Yang allegedly spied for. Elaine Pearson, Director of Human Rights Watch Asia, told the BBC that the case raises multiple due process concerns. She called the outcome “outrageous.”
“He has had delayed and limited access to legal representation, a closed door trial – and Yang himself has alleged torture and forced confessions during his interrogations.”
The Australian government has repeatedly attempted to obtain details of what the authorities specifically accuse the Yang of. Until recently, there was no answer. Instead, the spokespersons for the Chinese foreign office have consistently used the same formula: That Yang’s charges, treatment and trial were in accordance with the law.
What also makes China’s accusations implausible is Yang’s activism as a democracy advocate. As such, Yang has been on the Chinese security authorities’ blacklist for years. That is by no means a good disguise for espionage activities. On the contrary, activists have to expect absurd accusations at any time and take no further risks than they already do – even if foreign citizenship grants them supposed immunity.
The Australian-based artist Badiucao commented to the television station ProjectTV that Yang’s sentence is sending “a very worrying signal” to the entire Chinese diaspora in the world. The cartoonist, known to the public only by his synonym to protect his family in China from state repression, urged the Australian government to cancel its invitation to China’s President Xi Jinping for a state visit. “Australia cannot tolerate such treatment of its citizens,” said Badiucao.
Other foreign regime critics with Chinese roots have already been sentenced in China in the past. The case of the Swedish publisher Gui Minhai, who was abducted to China during a stay in Thailand, made headlines. The official Chinese narrative was that Gui had voluntarily left for China to turn himself in to the authorities, which would have meant that he would not have received Swedish consular aid.
Michael Shoebridge of the think tank Strategic Analysis Australia said that by sending Yang Hengjun to a horrific prison for the rest of his life, “Beijing is telling Canberra it has no power in the relationship, and goodwill is meaningless.”
Shoebridge had already predicted in November last year that his country would have to pay with imposed silence for the fact that Australia’s head of government, Anthony Albanese, had been invited to China for a state visit last year.
It was the first visit by an Australian prime minister since 2016, after which relations between the two countries had deteriorated noticeably. Australian exporters were the main losers. Albanese could present the images from Beijing as a complete success for his foreign policy. After that, according to Shoebridge, Australia reacted less and less to Beijing’s displays of military power.
And now, Canberra has no other option than to summon the Chinese ambassador for talks in the Yang Hengjun case – without any significant consequences for China. This is the result of Albanese’s strategy of shaping relations with China, Shoebridge complains. In this strategy, the head of government follows the principle, “We cooperate where we can, disagree where we must, and we engage in the national interest.”
Yang Hengjun’s sentence is an expression of the uncertain legal situation in the world’s largest dictatorship. His trial was held behind closed doors in May 2021. His lawyer revealed that he had asked the court in vain to revise his confessional statements because they had been made under torture. The court had neither questioned witnesses called by the defense nor accepted evidence in his favor.
His publications earned Yang the nickname “democracy peddler.” He criticized the human rights situation in China, but refrained from direct attacks on the government. In 2011, he was detained in China for a few days while visiting his family, but was released soon after.
Before his trip in 2019, friends had warned him not to return to the People’s Republic. However, he remained optimistic that he would return unharmed. Yang had argued that his texts were well hidden from the censors in China and would thus fly under the radar. However, he and his wife were arrested. While his wife was allowed to leave the country after a short time, Yang Hengjun’s publications proved fatal.
Just a few weeks ago, Australian journalist Cheng Lei was released after three years in prison in China. The authorities had also accused her of espionage and convicted her in a non-public trial. However, as part of the Australian-Chinese rapprochement in November, she was released and allowed to leave the country.
The new growth targets of the Chinese provinces do not indicate that Beijing will support the economy with a substantial economic stimulus package. As the business magazine Caixin reports, more than half of the provinces have set a lower growth target than 2023.
As is customary, the target for the entire country will not be announced until the start of the People’s Congress on 5 March. However, the provinces will have to finalize their plans in advance. According to the Caixin report, they are particularly cautious this year after many were too optimistic last year and missed their targets.
Heilongjiang in north-eastern China performed particularly poorly, achieving growth of just 2.6 percent last year against a target of around six percent. Jiangxi achieved growth of 4.1 percent against a target of about seven percent. Henan also fell well short of its target by 1.9 percentage points. Even Shanghai, which had already failed to meet its targets the year before, grew by five percent, around half a percentage point slower than expected.
The majority have now set themselves significantly lower targets:
Although there have traditionally been considerable doubts about the reliability of Chinese growth figures, the information provided by the provinces allows certain conclusions to be drawn about the trend this year.
While high growth targets in the past could often be interpreted as heralds of extensive government intervention and incentives, the current targets point to a different strategy. Economically stronger regions such as Beijing and Zhejiang have slightly revised their targets upwards. However, this appears to be more fine-tuning than the start of a large-scale economic stimulus.
Despite challenges such as the property slump, local government debt problems and weak demand, Beijing will likely maintain its course. Sectors identified as new economic growth drivers, such as renewable energies and future technologies in general, are likely to receive continued strong subsidies. However, it is unlikely that the economy will receive a large and even bailout.
Even if they wanted to, many local government’s hands are tied when it comes to economic stimulus programs, says Bruce Pang, Chief Economist at broker Jones Lang Lasalle. Their ability to stimulate the economy has been weakened because they can generate significantly less income from property sales due to the property crisis, Pang told Reuters.
After failing to meet targets in the previous year, planning is now “more mild and realistic,” said Wang Jun, Chief Economist at Huatai Asset Management. Especially provinces with a high debt burden have lowered their growth targets.
Several economists close to the government recently predicted that a growth target of around five percent is likely to be set in March, as in the previous year. For example, Liu Yuanchun, President of the Shanghai University of Finance & Economics, had expressed this view. Yu Yongding, former advisor to the People’s Bank of China, recommended a similar target in a speech in January.
Early on, it was my task to translate between two worlds. I moved from Shanghai to Berlin when I was ten years old. Ever since that time, there has been this mission: You must speak both languages, understand both cultures. You will be a mediator between the worlds. That was the ideal. It also fitted in with the zeitgeist of the 1980s and 1990s in China. They wanted to “go out into the world,” show themselves, present themselves. People out there should understand China, according to the motto: Zou Xiang Guo Ji – “bring something to the international stage.” Conversely, however, this also meant that only what was internationally accepted had any value in China.
During summer break, I often visited China, and people there asked me: What’s it like in Germany? Without even having to be told, even I realized that I was changing, that I spoke differently and began to express myself differently about certain things. My father, who had stayed behind in China, was irritated by this and for a long time – even today – called me his Liuxuesheng – “his foreign student.” But he also said at the time: “You should plant the seeds where the soil is more fertile.”
During my childhood in Germany, China – the whole East – still felt very foreign and distant. At elementary school in Berlin’s Wedding district, many children had a migrant background. That’s probably why the teachers never had any problems remembering my name. Once, a classmate, a boy from Yugoslavia, said to me: “Ah, you’re from China, what a rich country that is! My teacher then asked him: What makes you think that China is a rich country? And he replied: ‘Well, it says “Made in China” everywhere. That stuck in my mind. That was another way of seeing my origins: positive.
The desire to be seen as German and Chinese only came later. In secondary school, my geography teacher often asked me about China. That was when we were learning about the construction of the Three Gorges Dam and its negative effects. Human rights were a recurring topic. Or freedom of the press. Or China’s economic growth. This led to me having to educate myself more and more on these topics to be able to give an answer. I had the feeling that I had to be a model Chinese woman. In every situation in life, I wanted to challenge the prevailing negative image of the people of China that I was confronted with.
Back then, I also talked more with exchange students from China. I often challenged them. For example, when they said that the one-child policy had given women a higher status in society, I pointed out the negative side effects to them. That was the perspective I had become accustomed to: questioning things and looking for explanations. I often heard this phrase from Chinese students: China is just a country that needs time to develop. I temporarily adopted it – when talking to Germans about China. I think many sinologists are familiar with this phrase.
Whether I consider myself to be German-Chinese depends on the situation. It was often difficult, especially in relationships. I often felt under pressure to explain myself. Even though they were people I wished I didn’t have to explain myself to and who would just see and respect me for who I am. One partner tried to blame certain behaviors on my heritage. I never did anything like that myself: Telling a partner that you act this way because you are German. Conversely, my family in China accused me of “Western thinking,” especially when it came to relationships: That I was self-centered. Too individualistic.
It also seems to be easier for Chinese people to brand parts of me that they find strange as “German.” Some people close to me in China now even dare to say that immigrating to Germany was a mistake. They say that China is also a good country where you can grow up well. When I visit my old home in Shanghai today, it feels good to see friends and family again. I have also considered giving China another chance and living there. But many things bother me about Chinese society. I don’t feel free as a person there. Some Chinese friends say I’m too demanding and too sensitive, for example, when I get upset about all the communist slogans. You don’t have to take that so seriously, they say. But I don’t want to lose my sensitivity to things like that. It’s a part of me that I like.
I often feel like I’m constantly traveling, as if I’ll never arrive anywhere. Yet, I haven’t moved away from Berlin since I was 10. Integration is a difficult word. People who aggressively demand integration, but also those who compliment me by saying, “But you’re well integrated,” must understand that most people don’t leave their home country by choice. They didn’t go into exile out of a thirst for adventure. You don’t voluntarily become a second-class citizen. You don’t choose to expose yourself to everyday racism. I only understood later why my mother wanted to leave China with me. You just want the best for yourself and your children.
People should consider this when asking questions like “Where are you from?” Because this question brings up many questions: For example: Why do you care? What would it say about me if I answered that I come from China? On what level does the person want to connect with me through this question? What association with China am I being confronted with, and what does this make of me in the perception of the person asking the question? Is it about the China of the poet Li Bai, or Mao, or something else?
Today, I think: I no longer want to lead a double life. I don’t have an educational responsibility. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I have reasons for being the way I am. But these reasons lie in the fact that I have taken a close look at certain things, and not in whether something is typically Chinese or typically German. People who are empathetic – and empathy is a fundamental human characteristic – should be able to understand that. Recorded by Fabian Peltsch
Ziyi Huang was born in the Year of the Rabbit and has lived in Berlin since 1997.
Countdown to the Year of the Dragon: A dragon is being blessed for the lantern dance outside the ancestral hall of the Zhou family in the village of Fengjiangzhou in the eastern Chinese province of Zhejiang. The Year of the Wood Dragon officially begins on Saturday. It succeeds the water rabbit.
It was January 2019 when Yang Hengjun traveled to Guangzhou with his wife and child. His friends advised him against going. But Yang was optimistic: He had long since become an Australian citizen. Yes, he had written critically about Beijing’s policies. But his texts had been well contained by the Chinese censors. Yang believed that this meant he would fly under the radar. He was wrong. He disappeared shortly after arriving. His arrest only became known later.
Now it is definitive: Yang Hengjun has been sentenced to death. Marcel Grzanna describes the entire case and shows what signal Beijing wants to send to the Chinese diaspora worldwide with this verdict.
China’s provinces are sending out a completely different signal. China’s economy is in a slump, one crisis follows the next, which is why everyone is waiting for an economic stimulus from Beijing. But it doesn’t seem like there will be one, as Joern Petring reports.
According to his analysis, almost all of China’s provinces have lowered their growth targets this year. This indicates that they are not expecting any significant growth impetus from Beijing. The problem is that the way out of the crisis remains unclear.
And finally, I would like to draw your attention to today’s opinion piece. This time, it offers very personal and also educational insights. A young German-Chinese woman describes her life between negative stereotypes and her efforts to live up to all expectations.
Many Chinese consider foreign citizenship an attractive means of escaping state repression in the People’s Republic. However, the new papers only offer limited protection against repression. One tragic example is publicist Yang Hengjun, whose Australian passport did not save him from a harsh court sentence. As was announced on Monday, Yang was sentenced to death for alleged espionage.
The sentence is expected to be commuted to life imprisonment in the next two years. However, it is very likely that the critic of Chinese human rights policy will not leave prison alive. Yang’s physical condition has deteriorated dramatically since his arrest around five years ago. His family has stated that the 58-year-old has been tortured and interrogated over 300 times. During these interrogations, the investigators reportedly forced Yang to make confessions that, in the worst-case scenario, cost him his life.
However, it is still unclear who Yang allegedly spied for. Elaine Pearson, Director of Human Rights Watch Asia, told the BBC that the case raises multiple due process concerns. She called the outcome “outrageous.”
“He has had delayed and limited access to legal representation, a closed door trial – and Yang himself has alleged torture and forced confessions during his interrogations.”
The Australian government has repeatedly attempted to obtain details of what the authorities specifically accuse the Yang of. Until recently, there was no answer. Instead, the spokespersons for the Chinese foreign office have consistently used the same formula: That Yang’s charges, treatment and trial were in accordance with the law.
What also makes China’s accusations implausible is Yang’s activism as a democracy advocate. As such, Yang has been on the Chinese security authorities’ blacklist for years. That is by no means a good disguise for espionage activities. On the contrary, activists have to expect absurd accusations at any time and take no further risks than they already do – even if foreign citizenship grants them supposed immunity.
The Australian-based artist Badiucao commented to the television station ProjectTV that Yang’s sentence is sending “a very worrying signal” to the entire Chinese diaspora in the world. The cartoonist, known to the public only by his synonym to protect his family in China from state repression, urged the Australian government to cancel its invitation to China’s President Xi Jinping for a state visit. “Australia cannot tolerate such treatment of its citizens,” said Badiucao.
Other foreign regime critics with Chinese roots have already been sentenced in China in the past. The case of the Swedish publisher Gui Minhai, who was abducted to China during a stay in Thailand, made headlines. The official Chinese narrative was that Gui had voluntarily left for China to turn himself in to the authorities, which would have meant that he would not have received Swedish consular aid.
Michael Shoebridge of the think tank Strategic Analysis Australia said that by sending Yang Hengjun to a horrific prison for the rest of his life, “Beijing is telling Canberra it has no power in the relationship, and goodwill is meaningless.”
Shoebridge had already predicted in November last year that his country would have to pay with imposed silence for the fact that Australia’s head of government, Anthony Albanese, had been invited to China for a state visit last year.
It was the first visit by an Australian prime minister since 2016, after which relations between the two countries had deteriorated noticeably. Australian exporters were the main losers. Albanese could present the images from Beijing as a complete success for his foreign policy. After that, according to Shoebridge, Australia reacted less and less to Beijing’s displays of military power.
And now, Canberra has no other option than to summon the Chinese ambassador for talks in the Yang Hengjun case – without any significant consequences for China. This is the result of Albanese’s strategy of shaping relations with China, Shoebridge complains. In this strategy, the head of government follows the principle, “We cooperate where we can, disagree where we must, and we engage in the national interest.”
Yang Hengjun’s sentence is an expression of the uncertain legal situation in the world’s largest dictatorship. His trial was held behind closed doors in May 2021. His lawyer revealed that he had asked the court in vain to revise his confessional statements because they had been made under torture. The court had neither questioned witnesses called by the defense nor accepted evidence in his favor.
His publications earned Yang the nickname “democracy peddler.” He criticized the human rights situation in China, but refrained from direct attacks on the government. In 2011, he was detained in China for a few days while visiting his family, but was released soon after.
Before his trip in 2019, friends had warned him not to return to the People’s Republic. However, he remained optimistic that he would return unharmed. Yang had argued that his texts were well hidden from the censors in China and would thus fly under the radar. However, he and his wife were arrested. While his wife was allowed to leave the country after a short time, Yang Hengjun’s publications proved fatal.
Just a few weeks ago, Australian journalist Cheng Lei was released after three years in prison in China. The authorities had also accused her of espionage and convicted her in a non-public trial. However, as part of the Australian-Chinese rapprochement in November, she was released and allowed to leave the country.
The new growth targets of the Chinese provinces do not indicate that Beijing will support the economy with a substantial economic stimulus package. As the business magazine Caixin reports, more than half of the provinces have set a lower growth target than 2023.
As is customary, the target for the entire country will not be announced until the start of the People’s Congress on 5 March. However, the provinces will have to finalize their plans in advance. According to the Caixin report, they are particularly cautious this year after many were too optimistic last year and missed their targets.
Heilongjiang in north-eastern China performed particularly poorly, achieving growth of just 2.6 percent last year against a target of around six percent. Jiangxi achieved growth of 4.1 percent against a target of about seven percent. Henan also fell well short of its target by 1.9 percentage points. Even Shanghai, which had already failed to meet its targets the year before, grew by five percent, around half a percentage point slower than expected.
The majority have now set themselves significantly lower targets:
Although there have traditionally been considerable doubts about the reliability of Chinese growth figures, the information provided by the provinces allows certain conclusions to be drawn about the trend this year.
While high growth targets in the past could often be interpreted as heralds of extensive government intervention and incentives, the current targets point to a different strategy. Economically stronger regions such as Beijing and Zhejiang have slightly revised their targets upwards. However, this appears to be more fine-tuning than the start of a large-scale economic stimulus.
Despite challenges such as the property slump, local government debt problems and weak demand, Beijing will likely maintain its course. Sectors identified as new economic growth drivers, such as renewable energies and future technologies in general, are likely to receive continued strong subsidies. However, it is unlikely that the economy will receive a large and even bailout.
Even if they wanted to, many local government’s hands are tied when it comes to economic stimulus programs, says Bruce Pang, Chief Economist at broker Jones Lang Lasalle. Their ability to stimulate the economy has been weakened because they can generate significantly less income from property sales due to the property crisis, Pang told Reuters.
After failing to meet targets in the previous year, planning is now “more mild and realistic,” said Wang Jun, Chief Economist at Huatai Asset Management. Especially provinces with a high debt burden have lowered their growth targets.
Several economists close to the government recently predicted that a growth target of around five percent is likely to be set in March, as in the previous year. For example, Liu Yuanchun, President of the Shanghai University of Finance & Economics, had expressed this view. Yu Yongding, former advisor to the People’s Bank of China, recommended a similar target in a speech in January.
Early on, it was my task to translate between two worlds. I moved from Shanghai to Berlin when I was ten years old. Ever since that time, there has been this mission: You must speak both languages, understand both cultures. You will be a mediator between the worlds. That was the ideal. It also fitted in with the zeitgeist of the 1980s and 1990s in China. They wanted to “go out into the world,” show themselves, present themselves. People out there should understand China, according to the motto: Zou Xiang Guo Ji – “bring something to the international stage.” Conversely, however, this also meant that only what was internationally accepted had any value in China.
During summer break, I often visited China, and people there asked me: What’s it like in Germany? Without even having to be told, even I realized that I was changing, that I spoke differently and began to express myself differently about certain things. My father, who had stayed behind in China, was irritated by this and for a long time – even today – called me his Liuxuesheng – “his foreign student.” But he also said at the time: “You should plant the seeds where the soil is more fertile.”
During my childhood in Germany, China – the whole East – still felt very foreign and distant. At elementary school in Berlin’s Wedding district, many children had a migrant background. That’s probably why the teachers never had any problems remembering my name. Once, a classmate, a boy from Yugoslavia, said to me: “Ah, you’re from China, what a rich country that is! My teacher then asked him: What makes you think that China is a rich country? And he replied: ‘Well, it says “Made in China” everywhere. That stuck in my mind. That was another way of seeing my origins: positive.
The desire to be seen as German and Chinese only came later. In secondary school, my geography teacher often asked me about China. That was when we were learning about the construction of the Three Gorges Dam and its negative effects. Human rights were a recurring topic. Or freedom of the press. Or China’s economic growth. This led to me having to educate myself more and more on these topics to be able to give an answer. I had the feeling that I had to be a model Chinese woman. In every situation in life, I wanted to challenge the prevailing negative image of the people of China that I was confronted with.
Back then, I also talked more with exchange students from China. I often challenged them. For example, when they said that the one-child policy had given women a higher status in society, I pointed out the negative side effects to them. That was the perspective I had become accustomed to: questioning things and looking for explanations. I often heard this phrase from Chinese students: China is just a country that needs time to develop. I temporarily adopted it – when talking to Germans about China. I think many sinologists are familiar with this phrase.
Whether I consider myself to be German-Chinese depends on the situation. It was often difficult, especially in relationships. I often felt under pressure to explain myself. Even though they were people I wished I didn’t have to explain myself to and who would just see and respect me for who I am. One partner tried to blame certain behaviors on my heritage. I never did anything like that myself: Telling a partner that you act this way because you are German. Conversely, my family in China accused me of “Western thinking,” especially when it came to relationships: That I was self-centered. Too individualistic.
It also seems to be easier for Chinese people to brand parts of me that they find strange as “German.” Some people close to me in China now even dare to say that immigrating to Germany was a mistake. They say that China is also a good country where you can grow up well. When I visit my old home in Shanghai today, it feels good to see friends and family again. I have also considered giving China another chance and living there. But many things bother me about Chinese society. I don’t feel free as a person there. Some Chinese friends say I’m too demanding and too sensitive, for example, when I get upset about all the communist slogans. You don’t have to take that so seriously, they say. But I don’t want to lose my sensitivity to things like that. It’s a part of me that I like.
I often feel like I’m constantly traveling, as if I’ll never arrive anywhere. Yet, I haven’t moved away from Berlin since I was 10. Integration is a difficult word. People who aggressively demand integration, but also those who compliment me by saying, “But you’re well integrated,” must understand that most people don’t leave their home country by choice. They didn’t go into exile out of a thirst for adventure. You don’t voluntarily become a second-class citizen. You don’t choose to expose yourself to everyday racism. I only understood later why my mother wanted to leave China with me. You just want the best for yourself and your children.
People should consider this when asking questions like “Where are you from?” Because this question brings up many questions: For example: Why do you care? What would it say about me if I answered that I come from China? On what level does the person want to connect with me through this question? What association with China am I being confronted with, and what does this make of me in the perception of the person asking the question? Is it about the China of the poet Li Bai, or Mao, or something else?
Today, I think: I no longer want to lead a double life. I don’t have an educational responsibility. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I have reasons for being the way I am. But these reasons lie in the fact that I have taken a close look at certain things, and not in whether something is typically Chinese or typically German. People who are empathetic – and empathy is a fundamental human characteristic – should be able to understand that. Recorded by Fabian Peltsch
Ziyi Huang was born in the Year of the Rabbit and has lived in Berlin since 1997.
Countdown to the Year of the Dragon: A dragon is being blessed for the lantern dance outside the ancestral hall of the Zhou family in the village of Fengjiangzhou in the eastern Chinese province of Zhejiang. The Year of the Wood Dragon officially begins on Saturday. It succeeds the water rabbit.
