Strong public opinion often drives momentous societal change. The advent of the printing press in Europe during the Reformation and the proliferation of pamphlets in France in 1789 are powerful examples from history.

Recently, observers have pointed to the Internet’s spread in authoritarian regimes, such as the People’s Republic of China, as a possible catalyst for political reform today.

In China, the Internet is subverting traditional forms of information, such as state-controlled media. The Chinese Academy of Social Sciences reports that 67.5 percent of Chinese Internet users believe the Internet allows for more criticism of government than traditional forums. Western companies such as Safeweb provide Internet hosting invisible to government-mandated blocks, enabling users to access banned sites like CNN. Competition from Internet newspapers, which are inexpensive to produce and virtually untraceable, has invigorated independent paper presses. Furthermore, the Internet has rapidly extended its reach in China, with 24 million users, and by 2002, China will be the world’s largest market for telecommunications equipment. In fact, in one 1,500-person village, 5 percent of the inhabitants have Internet access even though the village lacks a sewage system.

Unfortunately, flourishing Internet-catalyzed public opinion means little if the government is unwilling to respond to it. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) faces a difficult decision. On one hand, the Internet is a crucial part of the CCP’s plan to sustain economic growth in excess of 8 percent. On the other, unrestrained public expression runs counter to the CCP’s refusal to tolerate political dissent, including such mild protests as the Falun Gong’s pleas for religious tolerance. In April 2001, the CCP promulgated new restrictions on Internet use, using the blanket term “state secrets” to justify taking control over virtually all areas of expression. The CCP also plans to register all forms of encryption software and now requires Internet cafés to register their users, curbing the Internet’s anonymity.

But the CCP does not want to atomize public opinion as in the days of the Cultural Revolution—it finds the power of public opinion too tempting. In a society where the number of Chinese engaged in private enterprise (24 million people in businesses larger than eight persons, up from 1.8 million in 1991) rivals the 60-million-member CCP, the Party sees the need to mold public opinion rather than stifle it. It seems more probable, however, that the sclerotic CCP will fail to adapt fast enough to a public opinion partly of its own creation.

An indication that public opinion is no longer in the CCP’s control came after a US spy plane’s collision with a Chinese fighter jet in April 2001. The CCP patterned its response after its reaction to NATO’s accidental 1999 bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, Yugoslavia, when Communist officials encouraged students to stone the US and British embassies in Beijing. During the spy-plane incident, the state-controlled media presented the loss of the Chinese pilot as an assault on China’s dignity. The government took other steps to stoke Chinese nationalism, such as setting up anti-US Internet chat rooms. US President George Bush’s initial statement of regret never reached the Chinese people.

However, this display of chauvinistic nationalism was not a creation of the CCP but a genuine expression of nationalist public opinion. Understandably, then, the CCP’s strategy to play the public opinion card in negotiations with the United States did not work out entirely as planned. Nationalist sentiment on the Internet soon outpaced the CCP’s expectations. Interspersed with “America go to hell” messages were criticisms of the CCP’s “soft” handling of the issue. Censors soon removed these messages, but the feeling remained. One student wrote, “I am not a Communist Party member, but I am for China in all matters.” In other words, the student was a partisan of China, though not necessarily of its government. Another consequence of greater nationalism has been renewed enthusiasm for jingoistic Maoist thought, which the CCP would rather forget. Mzdthought.com received 400,000 hits during its first five months of operation last year. The site’s popularity indicates dissatisfaction with the graying CCP, a party perceived by many as unworthy of China’s greatness. Thus, the flip side of a CCP-instigated national critique of the US government has turned out to be a nationalist critique of the Chinese government.

In other areas, public opinion has already forced the CCP to compromise its immunity from popular criticism. In March, an explosion at a school killed 42 children. At the annual National People’s Congress, Prime Minister Zhu Rongji attributed the accident to a bomb set by a troublemaker. The state media quickly disseminated this explanation, but several Internet newspapers soon broke the story that the children had been forced to make fireworks and that an explosion had caused the accident. Widespread outrage outstripped censors’ efforts to remove the reports. Eventually, Zhu was forced to apologize, not for hiding the truth, but for allowing the abuses that led to the accident. The strength of public opinion is clear from both incidents. In the spy-plane incident, the government tried to use public opinion for its own purposes but soon found it could not control what it had created. In the case of the school explosion, the Internet served as a catalyst of public opinion and led to greater governmental accountability. All of this is not to say that resurgent public opinion will turn China into an open society; dozens of Falun Gong practitioners are arrested every day for claiming to speak for themselves. Rather, the Internet’s significance stems from its potential to move a broad segment of the population out of its complacent slumber.

Perhaps in response to perceived pressure from public opinion, the CCP’s ideology is trying to incorporate greater accountability. The most recent party line is President Jiang Zemin’s theory of the Three Representatives. The Party’s function under this theory is to support “advanced productive forces, advanced Chinese culture, and the fundamental interests of the majority.” The Party is supposed to represent the country as a whole rather than serving as the vanguard of the proletariat. Under this formula, entrepreneurs were allowed into the Party—over 100,000 already belong to it. The theory gives the Party a mandate for ensuring social stability, through authoritarian means if necessary, during the transition to a capitalist economy. On a practical level, it means that the next generation of leaders, to be installed at next year’s Sixteenth Party Congress, will remain solidly authoritarian while assuming a mandate for social change. The new ideology aims to marshal public opinion behind the Party, minimizing the need to repress public expression on the Internet and elsewhere. At the same time, it preserves the CCP’s hold on power.