China's Reporting Culture: Risks for Foreigners and Businesses

This episode of 22 George Street discuss the unique and pervasive culture of reporting in China and its implications for foreign businesses and society. Beginning with the challenges faced by international companies operating in China—ranging from controversies over Xinjiang cotton to disputes about maps including the South China Sea—the podcast highlights how the ever-present threat of public reporting, or "举报" (reporting), creates significant operational risks. The discussion explores the deep roots of China's reporting culture, from its origins in socialist surveillance systems like East Germany's Stasi network to its institutionalization during Mao-era campaigns such as the Anti-Rightist Movement and the Cultural Revolution. Unlike in other socialist states, where reporting was primarily driven by political fear, in China, it has merged with societal tendencies like jealousy and the quest for moral superiority, creating a highly destructive feedback loop. The podcast further examines how this reporting culture has become an integral part of China's governance strategy. By encouraging citizens to report on one another, the state maintains tight social control while deflecting attention from systemic issues. Foreign companies operating in China must navigate this complex web, where even inadvertent missteps can lead to public outcry, regulatory scrutiny, and reputational damage. Ultimately, the podcast underscores how China's reporting culture represents both a reflection of deep-seated societal dynamics and a powerful tool for authoritarian governance, offering insights into why this phenomenon continues to shape China's modern landscape.

Transcript

Welcome to 22 George Street. I’m George, your host, and today we’re exploring a fascinating and troubling aspect of Chinese society: the culture of reporting. For foreign businesses operating in China, the risks are immense, and often invisible until they strike. Think about the controversies that have ensnared major global brands in recent years: accusations of not using Xinjiang cotton tied to alleged forced labour; maps in advertising omitting Taiwan or failing to label the South China Sea as Chinese territory; or campaigns that are denounced for “insulting China,” triggering massive consumer boycotts and regulatory scrutiny. At the heart of these crises lies a unique and pervasive phenomenon: the Chinese culture of reporting. In this episode, we’ll explore how this deeply rooted practice operates, why it has endured, and what it reveals about Chinese society.

First, let’s acknowledge that reporting as a social practice isn’t unique to China. Across many socialist states, citizens have been encouraged--sometimes coerced--into monitoring and reporting on one another as a means of maintaining social control. In East Germany, the infamous Stasi intelligence network recruited ordinary citizens as informants, creating a culture of pervasive distrust. By the time East Germany collapsed, nearly one in fifty citizens had worked for the Stasi in some capacity, monitoring their neighbours, colleagues, and even family members. Similar mechanisms have been used in North Korea and Cuba, where surveillance and reporting are institutionalised through community committees or party cells, ensuring that dissent is swiftly detected and punished.

China’s culture of reporting, however, is distinctive in its scope and longevity. Its roots lie in the socialist campaigns of the mid-20th century. During the land reform movement and the Anti-Rightist Campaign, ordinary citizens were encouraged to report landlords, intellectuals, and political dissidents. This wasn’t just a matter of ideology; reporting often brought tangible rewards, from land redistribution to career advancement. By the Cultural Revolution, reporting had reached a fever pitch. Neighbours turned on neighbours, colleagues denounced one another, and even family members betrayed each other in an atmosphere of paranoia and ideological fervour. The human cost was staggering: millions of lives lost, countless families destroyed, and an entire society plunged into fear and chaos.

While the economic reforms of the late 20th century brought a temporary respite, the culture of reporting has resurfaced with a vengeance in recent years. Today, it operates under a veneer of modernity but remains deeply connected to its historical roots. Government campaigns against “foreign spies” and “unpatriotic behaviour” have revived the practice, with citizens incentivised by monetary rewards and political approval to report on their peers. The rhetoric surrounding these campaigns is often couched in terms of national security and moral responsibility, but the underlying dynamics are the same: ordinary people policing one another under the auspices of state power.

What makes the Chinese context particularly striking is the way this reporting culture has intersected with a deeply ingrained social psychology, especially the role of jealousy. Unlike Western cultures that often valorise individual achievement, Chinese society has historically been shaped by a zero-sum mentality. Resources--whether material wealth, social status, or political power--are seen as finite. Success, therefore, is not just a personal achievement but an act of disruption, a reallocation of the collective pie that breeds resentment rather than admiration. In this context, reporting becomes a way to “level the playing field,” allowing those who feel disadvantaged to reassert balance by bringing others down.

Historically, this mindset was institutionalised through systems like the imperial examination, which created a stark division between winners and losers. Success in the exams granted entry to the elite class, while failure condemned individuals to obscurity. The stakes were so high that sabotage, slander, and even false accusations were commonplace. This competitive ethos persists today, infusing modern social dynamics with a similar cutthroat spirit. Reporting is no longer just a political act; it’s a tool for personal gain, social advancement, or simply the satisfaction of seeing someone else falter.

In the corporate sphere, this culture poses unique challenges for foreign businesses operating in China. The cases are numerous: global brands accused of using Xinjiang cotton; companies forced to apologise for omitting Taiwan or the South China Sea from their maps; and advertising campaigns criticised for cultural insensitivity, triggering massive boycotts. Often, these crises begin with a single report, amplified through social media and eventually escalating into a full-blown controversy. The state’s role in these situations is ambiguous, oscillating between passive observer and active participant, but the underlying dynamic is clear: a society primed to report, to criticise, and to punish.

The government’s exploitation of this reporting culture is perhaps its most cynical aspect. By encouraging citizens to report on one another, the state diffuses potential dissatisfaction with its own policies and redirects social tensions inward. Instead of questioning systemic inequalities or governance failures, people channel their frustrations into horizontal conflicts, turning on their peers rather than their rulers. For the state, this is an elegant solution: it reinforces control while maintaining the illusion of social participation. But for society, the cost is immense--broken trust, fractured communities, and a pervasive atmosphere of fear and suspicion.

At its core, China’s reporting culture is a mirror reflecting the tensions and contradictions of its society. It reveals how historical legacies, cultural attitudes, and political structures intersect to create a system where control is maintained not just through repression but through complicity. For foreign businesses, understanding this phenomenon isn’t just an academic exercise; it’s a survival strategy. The risks are real, the stakes are high, and the lessons are clear: in China, the act of reporting is never just about the reported--it’s about the reporter, the system, and the society that enables it.

Thank you for joining me on 22 George Street. If you found today’s discussion insightful, please share it with others who are curious about the complexities of China. Let’s keep exploring the hidden dynamics that shape our world. Until next time, Ciao!