Editorial
Look Only at the Ugly Sides, and You Won’t See China
A response to a Dutch debate on China, and why nuance matters in an age of geopolitical polarization.
Published
11 minutes agoon
The following is an English translation of a Dutch opinion piece I wrote in response to a recent essay in FD (Het Financieele Dagblad, the Dutch Financial Daily). It reflects on how China is discussed in Europe and why nuance matters in debates about freedom, safety, and public perceptions of China.
Anyone who says something positive about China nowadays quickly runs the risk of being dismissed as a propagandist. This became apparent again this week when Dutch philosopher Sebastien Valkenberg cited me in Het Financieele Dagblad (FD, the Dutch Financial Daily) as an example of a “hip influencer” who has succumbed to the allure of autocratic regimes.
According to Valkenberg, more and more people in the West are becoming impressed by stories of safety, order, and efficiency. China plays an important role in this. He refers to an interview I previously gave to EW Magazine, in which, according to him, I supposedly nodded along approvingly to remarks about China’s alleged superiority when it comes to public safety.
That is remarkable, because I actually spoke strongly about an unpleasant experience on a Dutch train, where I was harassed one evening while sitting alone in a carriage by a man who pulled down his trousers. The conversation was about safety, freedom, and the different ways societies weigh those concepts.
This is not merely a theoretical discussion. Earlier this year, Chinese artist and dissident Ai Weiwei caused a stir when, after visiting China, he said that in certain ways he felt freer there than in Europe. Not because China had suddenly become a liberal democracy, but because he experienced limitations and social tensions in Europe that, in his view, often remain out of sight.
You may agree or disagree with Ai Weiwei. But the fact that one of China’s most well-known critics of the regime makes such observations shows that the relationship between freedom, security, and social order is more complex than is often portrayed.
It should be possible to have a conversation about this without every comparison with China being immediately seen as a defense of the Chinese political system.
The fact that political freedom is important does not mean that physical safety should be off limits as a topic of discussion. Since China reopened after COVID, many Chinese have wondered how free democratic European countries really are when people can be robbed in broad daylight or when women increasingly feel unsafe on public transportation.
According to Valkenberg, however, Chinese people do not ask such questions on their own. They have supposedly been conditioned not to challenge authority. Worse still, he suggests, some people in the free West are now following the same path.
I am not a mouthpiece for Beijing; I am a sinologist. For nearly twenty years I have studied China, lived there, traveled there regularly, and followed discussions about censorship, propaganda, technology, and public opinion. I know that Chinese people do, in fact, question what authorities say. My readers also know that I regularly write about subjects that are anything but comfortable for the Chinese government.
But the bigger issue is not personal.
What strikes me is that Valkenberg makes hardly any distinction between China as a country, the Chinese as people, and the Chinese state as a political system. In his worldview, the ‘free democratic West’ stands opposed to the ‘autocratic China,’ with China almost entirely reduced to Xi Jinping and the Communist Party. Anyone who then says something positive about developments in China quickly risks being seen as someone spreading propaganda.
That is a problematic way of looking at things. Not only because it leaves little room for nuance, but also because it produces a simplified image of China itself. While every move made by Donald Trump is analyzed in great detail, knowledge about China in the Netherlands remains strikingly limited.
It is particularly striking that, in an essay about the dangers of stereotyping, Valkenberg so readily portrays Chinese people as a homogeneous mass that is barely capable of critical thinking. At the same time, he falls back on one of the most persistent misconceptions about China: the idea that every citizen is continuously assessed and scored through an all-encompassing social credit system.
That image of a system in which every citizen receives a personal point score has since been convincingly debunked by researchers. Yet this narrative stubbornly resurfaces in the public debate. Ironically, this shows how even highly educated people can be swept along by techno-orientalist myths and disinformation.
That does not mean there is no reason to be critical of China. On the contrary.
China has censorship. Political freedoms are limited. Dissidents are under pressure. The state exercises extensive control over parts of society, and the Communist Party wields significant power in the digital sphere. These are important issues that deserve serious attention, discussion, and scrutiny.
But precisely because these problems exist, we do not need Orwellian scare stories. Anyone who wants to understand China seriously must be willing to confront reality as it is, not as it best fits an ideological narrative.
You can acknowledge that Chinese cities have become safer without endorsing censorship. You can appreciate the quality of infrastructure without defending state control. And you can believe that more should be done to improve women’s safety on Dutch public transportation without being dismissed as an admirer of an authoritarian regime.
We live in a time when debates about China are increasingly dominated by extremes. Some see the country as a miracle state; others see it only as a dystopian nightmare. Both views fall short.
At a time when China’s geopolitical influence is growing, what we need is knowledge, context, and nuance. And as Europe struggles with its own challenges, it would not hurt to occasionally take a critical look at itself.
The strength of our democracy should not depend on how dark we paint the picture of China. Whoever looks only at the ugly side does not see China.
By Manya Koetse
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Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.
China Insight
Blazing Memories: About the Comparison of the Notre Dame Fire to the Burning of the Old Summer Palace (Op-Ed)
Understanding why the Yuan Ming Yuan went trending in China after the Notre Dame fire.
Published
7 years agoon
April 18, 2019
First published https://www.whatsonweibo.com/after-notre-dame-blaze-chinese-netizens-remember-how-the-french-burned-down-the-old-summer-palace/
A What’s on Weibo news article on Chinese online responses to the Notre Dame fire attracted very mixed reactions on English-language social media this week.
After the fire at the Notre Dame in Paris earlier this week, What’s on Weibo published an article describing Chinese online responses to the devastating blaze, and the ubiquitous comments that compared the destruction of the iconic French cathedral to the burning of the Chinese Old Summer Palace (Yuan Ming Yuan) in Beijing by the Anglo-French army in 1860.
There have been many reactions to this story on various social media platforms. From one side, there were those who questioned why we would even publish an article like that, suggesting that our position in covering this trend was biased. On the other side, there were those who jumped into the discussion, blaming Chinese for playing the victim and ignoring the destruction of old historical buildings or Mosques within their own country over recent years.
The reactions to this article and overall trend show the polarized stances on social issues and media in China, and how to cover them. Some suggested that it was not fair to write down the “negative social media opinions of a few Chinese commenters,” saying that it “reflected badly” on China overall, or that they were “irrelevant.”
Covering the voices of a few dozen ‘trolls’ and presenting them as an ‘overall sentiment’ is not what we do at What’s on Weibo.
Some people pointed out that the comparison of the Notre Dame blaze to the burning of the Old Summer Palace was not something that most Chinese agreed with. As also covered in our article, there were indeed many commenters, including historians and Key Opinion Leaders, who opposed to the Yuan Ming Yuan trend in light of the Notre Dame fire.
The fact of the matter still is that the Old Summer Palace became a massive topic of online debate following the Notre Dame fire. Ignoring such a trend in covering Weibo responses to the tragic Paris incident would be a huge blind spot problem.
Instead of condemning these Chinese online responses, ignoring they are there, or trivializing their relevance, it is perhaps more constructive to consider where they come from, and understanding that the history of the Old Summer Palace is still deeply ingrained in the collective memory of the Chinese people and nation.
Before further elaborating on this, let’s first go back to the trend itself.
From Notre Dame to Yuan Ming Yuan
As news of the catastrophic fire that engulfed the Notre Dame Cathedral (巴黎圣母院) in Paris on Monday made headlines across the world, the Old Summer Palace (Yuan Ming Yuan 圆明园) suddenly became a trending topic on Chinese social media.
Besides all the people who mourned the destruction of the historic cathedral, and those who posted photos of their previous visits to the scenic spot, there were many Chinese netizens who started addressing the plundering and burning down of the Yuan Ming Yuan (“Garden of Perfect Brightness”) in 1860, leading to the Notre Dame and the Old Summer Palace becoming top trending topics on Weibo at the same time.

As Notre Dame goes trending on Weibo, so does the Old Summer Palace (top 4 top trending).
On April 18, WeChat self-media account Fang Zhouzi (方舟子) wrote about the reaction: “On Chinese internet, a peculiar response started to emerge, as many people suddenly started remembering the burning of the Yuan Ming Yuan by the Anglo-French forces 159 years ago, and thereupon saying that the Notre Dame deserved to be burned.”
It is unclear who first drew a comparison between the Notre Dame and the Yuan Ming Yuan, but on April 16, actor Zhou Libo (周立波) wrote on Weibo that “compared to the Yuan Ming Yuan, the Notre Dame is just a garden.” A former editor at the Phoenix News Military Channel, Jin Hao (金昊), also published an article on WeChat titled “Mourning it, my ass! I’m pleased with the big fire at Notre Dame” (“哀悼个屁!巴黎圣母院大火,我很欣慰!”) (since deleted).
On other social media sites, such as Douban, people also started posting blogs with titles such as “the Notre Dame collapse makes me think of the Old Summer Palace” (“巴黎圣母院的倒塌让我想起了圆明园”).
An exploration of search queries on Chinese search engine Baidu shows that at the time when ‘Notre Dame’ peaks as a query on April 16, so does the term ‘Yuan Ming Yuan.’ Similarly, on Google Trends, the Chinese query ‘Notre Dame’ shows the Yuan Ming Yuan Park as the number two related topic in its overview of the past week.

Baidu trends show that both the search terms ‘Notre Dame’ (A) and ‘Yuan Ming Yuan’ (B) simultaneously peak on April 16.
At time of writing, there are dozens of pages on Weibo filled with comments relating to the Notre Dame/Old Summer Palace comparison. We won’t list many of them here, but some of the comments include reactions such as: “Now you can also experience how it feels when art and culture are burned,” “I might have a narrow sense of patriotism, but seeing the Notre Dame burn makes me happy inside,” and “even a hundred Notre Dames still don’t make the Old Summer Palace,” with many netizens claiming that the loss of the Old Summer Palace was just as bad, or rather worse, than the destruction of the Notre Dame.
These collective responses to the Notre Dame fire also drew much criticism. State media outlet CCTV published an article that condemned the comparison of the Notre Dame and the Old Summer Palace, stating that people “should not vent their emotions in the name of history” (Li Xuefei 2019).
Various other news channels also published critique, including one article titled “The Notre Dame fire as retribution for the burning of Yuanmingyuan? Please stop this inhumane line of reasoning” (“巴黎圣母院大火是烧圆明园的报应?快停下反人类思维”).
As covered in our previous write-up, there were also many voices on Weibo denouncing the trend. One of them was Yan Feng (严锋), a professor at Fudan University, who posted:
“The Notre Dame cathedral was constructed in 1163, the Yuan Ming Yuan was destroyed in 1860. The people who burned the Yuan Ming Yuan were not the people who built the Notre Dame of Paris. They were separated by 700 years. The French feudal separatists were in no way French according to modern-day standards. Every injustice has its perpetrator and every debt its debtor, why should you let the Notre Dame bear the responsibility of burning down the Yuan Ming Yuan?”
“First of all, we are people, then we are Chinese,” another popular comment said: “The loss of such a historical cultural gem is a loss for all mankind.”
Collective Memories of Yuan Ming Yuan
In October of 1860, British and French troops sacked and burned the Old Summer Palace, which was once a massive complex consisting of more than a hundred buildings, pavilions, and scenic spots, built since the 17th century for the Qing emperors.
The event took place at the end of the Second Opium War. Unsatisfied with the Treaty of Nanjing and, among others, demanding more Chinese cities and ports to open for trade, the Anglo-French army invaded Beijing in 1860. They plundered the Yuan Ming Yuan, which was filled with books and art treasures. The burning came afterward, to destroy the evidence of their looting. The fire blazed for three days and three nights, leaving the enormous palace grounds in ruins (Chey 2009, 79).

The site of the once magnificent Old Summer Palace is now the Yuanmingyuan Ruins Park, an initiative that was set up in the 1980s after decades of neglect. In “The Ruins of Yuanmingyuan,” Haiyan Lee calls the site a “national wound” (2009). It is a symbolic space, where the ruins remind visitors of the injustice China once suffered at the hands of Western powers.
This injustice is an important incident in China’s so-called “Century of Humiliation,” the time from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s during which China was attacked, weakened, and torn by foreign forces.
The “Century of Humiliation” still plays an important role in China today, as young people are also taught that this historical consciousness is important. The four character slogan “Wù wàng guóchǐ” (勿忘国耻), “Never forget national humiliation”, is frequently repeated in Chinese media, museums, schools, documentaries, and in popular culture.

Young Chinese students carrying a sign “Never Forget National Humiliation”, image via Xinhua.
As described in the insightful work by Zheng Wang, Never Forget National Humiliation, the historical memory of China’s era of humiliation has become part of Chinese national identity, promoted in official discourse, and often unconsciously yet profoundly influencing people’s perceptions and actions. This is also what collective memory is: an accumulation of memory-forming processes that take place on both conscious and non-conscious levels (Koetse 2012, 10).
The Yuan Ming Yuan Park is a particularly significant cultural heritage site where the remembrance of the humiliations and injuries China suffered at the hands of foreign imperialists comes to life through the ruins (Lee 2008, 169).
Blazing Memories
Collective memory and nations are tied together in many ways, as historical memories serve as an important vehicle to unify the nation. They also play an important part in how people from different communities, societies, or nations will interpret big or important events that happen in the world today.
When certain news makes headlines, it is not uncommon for people to reflect on it speaking from their own experiences and the collective memory of their own nation or bigger community – especially when the place where it happens is far removed from them.
This is not unique to China. To grasp, process, and comment on faraway incidents, it is sometimes easier to relate it to something that is closer to you.
Former American first lady Michelle Obama visited Paris earlier this week for her book tour, and told the audience about how shocked she was about the Notre Dame blaze, briefly comparing the incident to the devastating American 9/11 attacks.* Does it make sense to compare the burning of the Notre Dame to the 9/11 attacks? Perhaps not. Yet Obama was not the only one to raise the 9/11 events; some on Twitter even called the burning of the Notre Dame “a cultural 9/11” disaster.
Seeing the overwhelming responses to the Notre Dame fire on Chinese social media, where so many people linked it to Chinese history, the reaction perhaps should not be whether these online responses and media discussions were either ‘good’ or ‘bad’ – instead, it is important to understand where they come from, and how people from various backgrounds, cultures, or religions, often use their own cultural or social frameworks, historical narratives, and dominating ideas to make sense of what is happening around them.
As the Notre Dame trend on Chinese social media shows, but what’s beyond the scope of this article, is that the mechanisms of online nationalism and anti-foreign sentiments often also come into play once these memory-machines start running.
In the end, the Notre Dame fire actually has nothing to do with the history of the Old Summer Palace. But the news of the Notre Dame blaze was enough reason for many Chinese netizens to trigger and bring up this memory of Chinese suffering that still exists in the minds of the people today.
Instead of condemning that, or trivializing news reports on these trends, one could try to understand it, and then see it as a completely separate issue from the Notre Dame fire – as many people on Weibo also do.
By Manya Koetse
Recommended reading:
References
Fang Zhouzi 方舟子. 2019. “巴黎圣母院和圆明园有什么关系?” April 18, Fang Zhouzi / Self-Media WeChat link[4.18.19].
Koetse, Manya. 2012. “The ‘Magic’ of Memory. Chinese and Japanese Re-Remembrances of the Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945).” Research Master thesis, Leiden University.
Lee, Haiyuan. 2009. “The Ruins of Yuanmingyuan – Or, How to Enjoy a National Wound.” Modern China 35 (2): 155-190.
Li Xuefei 李雪菲. 2019. “巴黎圣母院火灾怎能与火烧圆明园混为一谈 狭隘的民族主义可休矣.” April 16, CCTV,Sina News https://finance.sina.com.cn/roll/2019-04-16/doc-ihvhiqax3118848.shtml [4.18.19].
Ong, Siew Chey. 2009. China Condensed: 5, 000 Years of History & Culture. Singapore: Marshall Cavendish International.
Weatherley, Robert D., and Ariane Rosen. 2013. “Fanning the Flames of Popular Nationalism: The Debate in China over the Burning of the Old Summer Palace.” Asian perspective 37(1):53-76.
Zheng Wang. 2012. Never Forget National Humiliation: Historical Memory in Chinese Politics and Foreign Relations. New York: Columbia University Press.
* Segment on Michelle Obama in Paris from Dutch “Talkshow M” of April 17th, 36.00 min.
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©2019 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.
China Arts & Entertainment
Why Is China So Obsessed With a Celebrity Divorce?
Editorial: There is a double standard in the existing public opinion in China, where the women often get blamed for extramarital affairs.
Published
10 years agoon
August 31, 2016
The recent divorce of Chinese film star Wang Baoqiang (王宝强) has already become China’s biggest scandal of 2016. With over 10 billion views, it is one of the most-read topics Weibo has ever seen. Why is China so obsessed with a celebrity divorce?
The hype surrounding the divorce of Chinese celebrity couple Wang Baoqiang and Ma Rong is taking biblical proportions. Ever since the Chinese movie star announced his divorce on Weibo (@王宝强) on August 14th, the controversy has been swirling, with more and more intrigue being added to the story every day.
In Wang’s public divorce announcement, the celebrity stated that he had been a loyal husband since he got married to his wife Ma Rong (马荣) in 2009. Unfortunately, he wrote, the illicit affair between his wife and his manager Song Zhe (宋喆) had damaged his marriage beyond repair.
“Some netizens turned into private detectives on the matter, researching old pictures for clues of the secret affair.”
The exposure of the alleged relationship between Wang’s wife Ma Rong and manager Song Zhe hit Weibo like an earthquake, with millions of netizens jumping on the discussion, scolding Ma Rong on her Weibo account and berating Song Zhe (on a Weibo account that actually turned out not be his).
Some netizens turned into private detectives on the matter, researching old pictures for clues of the secret affair that was taking place behind Wang’s back.
One of the pictures posted by netizens as an alleged evidence of Ma’s affair, showing Ma Rong talking to Song Zhe while Wang leads the children.
Private numbers and addresses were leaked online, while more alleged evidence of the relationship appeared. The story now continues as manager Song Zhe and his own wife Yang Hui (杨慧) are also getting divorced, while Ma Rong and Wang Baoqian are caught up in legal battles over alleged stolen assets and disagreement over who should get custody over the children.
The topic ‘Wang Baoqiang Divorce’ (#王宝强离婚#) has now been viewed more than 10 billion times on Sina Weibo. This makes it one of the biggest topics the social media platform has ever seen. It does not even include the views on all other related hashtags, such as “Wang Baoqiang’s Wife Cheated” (#王宝强老婆出轨#), “The Song Zhe & Yang Hui Divorce” (#宋喆杨慧离婚#), “Wang Baoqiang Wants Ma Rong to Give Him the Kids” (#王宝强要马蓉交出儿女#) or “Yang Hui Takes Song Zhe To Court” (#杨慧起诉宋喆离婚#).
With every piece of news coming out on the Wang divorce drama, netizens jump right on it to vent their opinion or to scold Ma Rong. When an earlier What’s on Weibo editorial mentioned the questionable role of Wang within the scandal – as it was him who brought the crisis between himself and the mother of his children out in the open for all of China to see – we received hateful messages from angry Chinese netizens who did not tolerate any criticism of Wang Baoqiang, as Ma Rong ‘deserved’ the wave of verbal violence that was coming her way.
Some reactions were so emotional that it seemed people were talking about their own marriage. Indeed, Wang’s divorce is a matter close to the heart for many Chinese netizens for multiple reasons that relate to netizens’ power, the extent to which they identify with Wang, and the social norms and gender expectations they have.
“There is much freedom of speech in China’s celebrity sphere.”
In Celebrity in China (2010), Elaine Jeffreys and Louise Edwards stress the difference between celebrity status in the earlier 20th century and in the current digital era, as the emergence of new technologies and mass media has led to what they call a “‘democratization’ of celebrity status”; celebrities and ordinary people become their own producers and publishers by selecting and making their own content to share with the world without a third-party intervening (2010, 8).
This has also brought forth a new generation of ‘DIY celebrities’, ordinary netizens who make themselves famous through social media. Chinese celebrity vlogger Papi Jiang is a good example of how hugely famous netizens can become overnight.
The so-called ‘democratization’ of celebrity status is happening all over the world, but is arguably more significant in a Chinese context. Recent celebrity-related trending topics, such as the Wang Baoqiang divorce, have shown that when a celebrity scandal breaks out in China, it can become especially big and very emotional.
According to Chinese celebrity culture critics, celebrity entertainment news is “banal” as it leads the general audience away from the more serious, political issues. The Dean of Tsinghua University’s Journalism department, Li Xiguang, says: “(..) celebrities are setting the agenda for the general public, which does not have to pay attention to what is happening around them, or care about it, or think about it” (2010, 11).
But one major reason why Wang’s divorce and other celebrity scandals become so big in China is because many political issues leave little room for public online debate, while there is much freedom of speech in China’s celebrity sphere. Netizens can say what they want, and be involved in a news topic to an extent they would normally not be allowed to – becoming active contributors to the discussion as sharers, commentators, or ‘detectives’.
Supporters of China’s celebrity culture therefore praise it as a representation of “rising individualism and resistance to an all-controlling state” (Jeffreys & Edwards 2010, 13). It was not state media that made Wang’s divorce a trending topic. It was Wang himself and the people who followed him, which made the public’s attention for the topic all the bigger.
“With his rural-to-urban, migrant-to-actor, pioneering spirit, Wang has come to represent the Chinese dream.”
Another major reason why the story became so big has much to do with Wang Baoqiang himself. Wang is a former migrant construction worker who rose to fame when he was cast in his first movie.
Born into a poor rural family in Hebei Province in 1984, Wang was fascinated by Jet Li and said in previous interviews: “I wanted to be a kung fu star when I saw the film (..) And I felt that if my parents could see me on television they would feel very proud of me, especially in front of our neighbors.”

Wang’s humble background story is touching to many, as he worked hard to where he is today. At the age of 8, the actor left his family to study kung fu and later went to Beijing to play small roles as an actor in film and TV while doing construction jobs on the side. The dream of supporting his future family was of great importance to him, as he told the media on multiple occasions.
He made his big break when major director Feng Xiaogang chose him to play a role as, ironically, a migrant worker with a kind heart, in A World Without Thieves (2003). Wang later became a critically acclaimed actor, known for his roles in films like Blind Shaft (2003) and A Touch of Sin (2013).
With his rural-to-urban, migrant-to-actor, pioneering spirit, Wang has come to represent the Chinese dream. This image was strengthened after Wang got married and had the perfect nuclear family with one boy and one girl.
That such a man would end up in a marriage scandal such as this meant a break of the Chinese dream to many. The article “Wang Baoqiang’s Marriage Upheaval Smashed the Chinese Dream” (王宝强婚变打破的中国梦), that was shared a lot on Weibo, struck a chord with many. As author @万能的大熊 says:
“In the world of entertainment, divorce news is nothing new. The fact that this incident with Wang Baoqiang got so big is not just about marriage – it has broken the Chinese dream for a lot of people. This is a collusion of the public and the private about the importance of family, and it challenges the general order and moral.”
“There is a double standard in the existing public opinion, where the women often get blamed for extramarital affairs – no matter if they are the wife or the mistress.”
One thing that stands out in the case of Wang’s divorce is the collective hatred for estranged wife Ma Rong, who currently has become the “most-hated” person on Weibo. It relates to existing perceptions on gender roles within marriage and society, and has added more fuel to the fire.
The great majority of Weibo netizens side with Wang Baoqiang, calling Ma Rong a ‘slut’, a ‘cheat’ or a ‘gold digger’. One popular Weibo comment by a young male netizen even says: “Let me tell you – even if Wang Baoqiang would keep a mistress, visit prostitutes or have another wife, we would still be on his side! No matter how wronged you feel, we won’t sympathize! You’re a piece of trash!”

This comment and the many of its sort show that there is a double standard in the existing public opinion, where the women often get blamed for extramarital affairs – no matter if they are the wife or the mistress. The men, on the other side, are often perceived as guiltless.
The recent stream of videos that show wives beating up their husband’s mistresses in broad daylight reveal how, even if it is the husband cheating, the females are held responsible. Netizens are generally quick to blame the wife who has been cheated, saying that she apparently “did not take good care of her husband” or otherwise he would not have had an affair. In the case of Wang Baoqiang and Ma Rong, however, there are virtually no netizens claiming that Ma had her alleged affair because Wang was “not taking good care of his wife”.
Divorce is often seen as a social degradation for women, more so than for men. The fact that Ma Rong was an unknown student when she met the already famous Wang in 2007 does not help. As WeekinChina writes:
“(..) the union between Ma and Wang had always sparked more skepticism than confidence, (..) they came from very different backgrounds. Ma was a rich city girl studying broadcasting at Northwest University in Xi’an while Wang, though a successful actor, was poorly educated. Their physical attributes, too, couldn’t be further apart. Essentially, it was a marriage between “a Phoenix and a Peacock” (..) “Phoenix men are those who are born impoverished but they achieve worldly success through their own efforts… Ma, meanwhile, is a textbook Peacock: a beautiful woman that grows up highly educated in a well-off family. While it makes sense that Wang would pursue a Peacock – she is tall, beautiful and sophisticated – their relationship is also very risky. These marriages often encounter even more problems than an average couple because the two have such different value systems.””
With the combination of the general social stigmatization of divorced women, Ma’s background, Wang’s popularity, and the story of adultery, Ma Rong has become the ultimate object of scorn and will have to wear her online ‘scarlet letter’ for some time to come.
As fickle as social media might be, you can be rest assured that for the time to come, for many different reasons, Wang Baoqing and his divorce will continue to be buzzing on Weibo.
– By Manya Koetse
Follow @WhatsOnWeibo
References
Jeffreys, Elaine and Louise Edwards. 2010. Celebrity in China. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press.
©2016 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.
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