How Propaganda Shapes Public Opinion and Fuels Nationalism in China
Propaganda is the real secret sauce behind the China Communist Party (CCP)’s iron grip of Chinese people. Not the police, not the pesky surveillance cameras, not the internet control. This pervasive influence starts from the moment you’re born, and continues until you die. From textbooks and newspapers to TV shows, movies, teachers, your next-door neighbors, and even your parents, everyone and everything becomes part of the propaganda parade. It is the largest and most effective internal indoctrination system in the world. It is so good, even a significant portion of overseas Chinese cheers from the sidelines.
This propaganda machine is constantly evolving and fine-tuned to meet the Party’s whims and fancies.
The greatest internal propaganda network
You though your government was nosy. Brace yourself, because China has a literal Central Ministry of Propaganda—yes, I’m serious—that’s been in business since 1949, right when the Communist Party took the reins. Think of it as the ultimate PR firm, but with way more control and fewer ethics, reporting directly to the CCP Central Committee. And if you thought this was limited to a few offices within different levels of local government, think again. Every state-owned company has its own mini-propaganda department, because, you know, nothing says “good business” like a little state-sponsored messaging.
Every media outlet is a proud propaganda organ, not just the major news outlets Xinhua News Agency (aka the CCP’s personal microphone), People’s Daily (the Party’s media release), and China Central Television (CCTV, where everything is rosy).
Every domestic student has to take mandatory Ideology and Ethics courses for up to 12 years (longer if you’re lucky enough to be accepted to an university), which can be boiled down to three simple gems of wisdom: 1. No CCP, no China; 2. The CCP is the Chinese people; 3. The CCP is the fairy godmother that brought prosperity to the land.
This endless repetition doesn’t just plant ideas; it power-washes any naturally occurring thoughts right out of your brain. The line between the Party and the State gets so blurry that many Chinese can’t even tell where one ends and the other begins. Criticizing the CCP, China, or the Chinese people is like you’ve insulted their grandmother. And this isn’t just in China—plenty of overseas Chinese react the same way. It triggers a defense mechanism, rooted in the scar repeatedly reopened by the narrative of the “Century of Humiliation,” when the Qing dynasty was invaded and looted by eight foreign powers. This makes them cling even harder to their national identity and fuels a growing antagonism toward nations that dare to criticize.
Censorship — especially online — is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, because God forbid someone thinks for themselves. But the propagandists are getting smarter and slicker, too. They’ve moved past the ham-fisted propaganda of yesteryear and are now more subtle.
Nationalism driven by a “strong leader”
Sure, nationalism isn’t unique to China, but there’s one massive, positively-toned narrative that rammed down every citizen’s throat, drowning out any tiny voice of criticism. Whether it’s poverty reduction, economic miracles, or handling crises like COVID-19, Chinese state media turns the spotlight on the government’s supposed heroic efforts and success. The government is always portrayed as this benevolent force that brings prosperity and stability to the people.
Nowadays, China seems to be making a hobby out of insulting or bullying more countries, telling foreigners to “shut up or else,” pushing boundaries, and rattling the saber like it’s a new sport. And don’t even get me started on those Wolf Warrior diplomats. Every time one of them spends their time hurling insults and antagonizing their hosts instead of, I don’t know, doing their job and fostering relationships, they get a standing ovation from nationalists back home and their Chinese counterparts abroad. Those nationalists have wrapped themselves in a belief system so impermeable to criticism that even insisted every diplomatic blunder is actually a stroke of genius. It’s like watching someone trip over their own feet and call it performance art.
China’s been playing the part of a “bull in a China shop” since around 2010 — except, in this case, the bull is also running the shop and is confused as to why it keeps breaking things.
Nationalism itself tends to get a bad rap—and for good reason—but in China’s case, the real issue is much bigger. It’s not just the nationalism; it’s how utterly self-destructive it is. While the world gets worried about being the target of Chinese nationalism, its primary victim is actually China itself. It’s like watching someone furiously punch a mirror, proud of their “strength,” while ignoring the shattered glass and bloody knuckles. China isn’t coming across as tough, strong, or even remotely respectable. It’s not winning admiration, nor is it instilling fear. What it’s done is burning bridges and turning former allies and neutral voices into critics.
The Battle for Minds in Cyberspace
Welcome to the internet—well, not if you’re in China, where “freely talking about grievances online” is about as realistic as flying pigs. Unlike in the West, where you can vent, gather like-minded folks, and maybe even spark a movement, in China, any such attempts are smacked down quicker than you can type a hashtag. If you want to start a meaningful movement, good luck. You’ll need a massive, spontaneous groundswell of popular opinion, and, spoiler alert: the CCP despises anything even remotely resembling a large-scale movement (thanks to Falungong). Remember the end of Zero-COVID? That moment when the CCP suddenly realized things were spiraling out of control, and they had overplayed their hand? Yeah, they’re not fans of that.
By now, we’ve all heard of the infamous “Great Firewall” censorship system and the “50 Cent Army” (those charming online commenters paid to flood the internet with pro-CCP content). But what’s less well-known is just how many creative and slightly terrifying methods the CCP uses to monitor and censor social media. Spoiler alert: it’s not just about blocking websites anymore.
Let’s start with DNS poisoning. DNS (Domain Name System) is supposed to translate domain names into actual addresses so you can visit websites. But in China, most DNS servers are poisoned, which means even if a website isn’t blocked, you still can’t visit it because you’ll be fed the wrong address. It’s like trying to get directions from someone who’s intentionally sending you in circles.
Then there’s limited access to international websites. Want to check out something not hosted on a Chinese server? Good luck! They’ll throttle international traffic, block international DNS servers, or just hit you with extra fees for daring to visit a foreign site.
And don’t even think you’re safe with HTTPS encryption. Sure, your connection might be secure, but that doesn’t mean it’s stable. The CCP has a habit of harassing HTTPS connections—for example, when you try to visit “The New York Time” from inside China. It’s fully encrypted, but mysteriously, you’ll find yourself getting kicked off the site for “unknown reasons”.
The Intellectual Gymnastics of Justifying the Party Line
Academia in China — a service class where intellectuals have never been in short supply, especially when it comes to crafting elaborate justifications for the ruling elite. These scholars diligently soothe the moral sensitivities of the winners — aka the CCP — spinning narratives that, well, just make sense to keep the status quo humming along.
Contrary to popular belief, the Party isn’t some blissfully unaware old man in the mountains, oblivious to concepts like democracy, free speech, and the free-market economy. No, they understand it all—probably better than you’d like to think. They just don’t believe it’s right for their 1.4 billion people. They’ve decided, on behalf of the entire population, that liberal democracy is about as compatible with Chinese culture as chopsticks at a soup dinner.
Here’s the kicker: many in China’s government, think tanks, and policy circles don’t buy into the idea that “liberal democracy” is the only true form of democracy. Nope. Instead, they’re busy cooking up their own homegrown version, where democracy isn’t about the individual but about the collective good — because, apparently, 1.4 billion people are way too communal to be trusted with individualistic Western-style freedoms and making decisions.
And of course, let’s not forget that total and invasive state control ensures the Party can shape the future however it pleases. They truly believe they’re the architects of China’s destiny, and when they’re rewriting laws to reinforce communist ideology, it’s clear that they see themselves as pursuing a noble, righteous cause—whether or not the rest of the world agrees, because nothing says “We’ve got this figured out” like making sure their citizens can’t use Google to google “democracy.”
We broke it, but look how well we’re fixing it
It’s no secret that the Communist Party enjoys overwhelming support in China—especially when times get tough, as if crises are somehow their time to shine. Afterall, the Chinese word for “crisis” consists of two characters: “danger” and “opportunity”. Never let a good crisis go to waste, they say. But ask the average Chinese citizen why they support the CCP, and you’re likely to get a blank stare or an awkward shrug. The truth is, most people don’t really know.
You see, the majority of Chinese folks are too busy chasing the next paycheck, saving to buy an apartment, a shiny new car, or some fancy handbag. Chinese women have made it pretty clear: no apartment, no marriage. So, while romance is nice, securing a down payment is better.
Now, here’s where the CCP gets really clever. Their unofficial—but highly effective—narrative goes something like this: “Look, we’re not perfect, but trust us, the alternatives are way worse. You want chaos? Famine? Never-ending civil war? Because that’s what’ll happen if we’re not in charge. You don’t want that, do you?” And you know what? A lot of Chinese people actually believe it. They’ve been raised on stories of foreign invasions, mass famines, and social collapse—fears that still run deep and the specter of famine still looms large in the collective memory, like generational trauma passed down over dinner conversations. The result? A populace pushed down Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, stuck at the basic levels of survival and stability, because that’s the CCP’s endgame: control at all costs.
And let’s not forget the grand illusion: the idea that the CCP is responsible for China’s economic miracle. This little piece of fiction is particularly well-ingrained. The truth? The CCP didn’t “build” modern China; it dragged the country into poverty with disastrous policies like the Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution. Then, once things got bad enough, they “permitted” their citizens to rejoin civilization. It’s like setting your house on fire, then getting praised for putting out the flames. The only reason the CCP “lifted” people out of poverty is because they were the ones who pushed them into it in the first place.
And it [the propaganda] works
The following three paragraphs reflect the views of many educated Chinese (extracted from Quora[1], which is banned in China), including those living abroad.
“Because that’s not what the Chinese people are interested in. China’s core interest is in managing itself well. The “human rights” issues in other countries are not really “transplantable” for China, because while the Western Nations are heavily debating the right to smoke weed (drug legalization), and who gets to use what bathroom (LGBT), the Chinese are single-mindedly focused on the “Right to study/work harder, faster, smarter, more efficiently, and to get rewarded for it”. To the Chinese, this is the most important Human Right.” (author’s take: Ah yes, because who needs silly things like personal freedoms when you could be working a glamorous 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week, right? Why waste time on insignificant trifles like dignity, equality, or basic human rights when you can live the dream of being a cog in the 996 machines.)
“Other countries are of only tangential interest to China. The only thing China is really interested in other countries, is in those areas where other countries are doing better, like so-and-so can make better airplane/engines/cars/drugs/computer games, so-and-so has better environment and great natural beauty, so-and-so are richer countries with more fancy stuff, etc.” (author’s take: China’s relationship with the rest of the world? It’s a bit like a trip to the local mall. China strolls around, casually browsing the aisles for anything useful—maybe some shiny new tech or a stash of natural resources. Foreign affairs? Yawn. If there’s no economic or technological prize at the end, why bother? Who needs diplomacy when you’ve got a shopping list of gains to check off?)
“The way many Chinese people looking at this Western Human Rights issues is like a guy rushing to work, watching some white dude lying on the beach sipping a glass of Margarita, while pondering “To pee or not to pee, that is a question”. The stuff that sounds profound to you may sound semi-retarded to the Chinese. They don’t have the time for it.” (Author’s take: who cares trivial matters like political influence, strategic alliances, and cultural soft power, China is too busy upgrading to care about such frivolity.)
Allegory of the cave
In the allegory of the cave, prisoners are confined in a cave, perceiving only shadows on a wall, which they take for reality because it’s all they’ve ever known. One prisoner escapes and, after struggling to adjust, sees the true world beyond the cave, realizing that the shadows were mere illusions. However, when he returns to free the others, they reject his insights and cling to the familiar shadows, resisting the painful transition to a new understanding.
Here is the plight of the Chinese people, but instead of yearning for the external world of truth, they choose to accept the “shadows”—in this case, the immovable, seemingly eternal power of the Party in China. For them, challenging the Party is as futile as the prisoners believing that the shadows are their entire world. Essentially, what good would come from trying to escape a reality so entrenched and overwhelming that it might as well be nature itself— as permanent as the “shadows” in the cave.
A “tolerable life” within the confines of the system mirrors the Chinese’s contentment with their shadows. Even if the Party’s dominance is an illusion, fighting it might bring only destruction and suffering, without any real hope of overturning it. So, why risk everything to pursue something uncertain—like the prisoner who tries to lead others out of the cave, only to be rejected and possibly destroyed in the process?
Yet, there is another layer. Plato’s freed prisoner seeks enlightenment outside the cave, symbolizing philosophical truth and understanding. Fighting for political change in China—much like escaping the cave—requires immense sacrifice and may lead to isolation, danger, or even death. The “unicorns” who try to challenge the Party are the few who dare to leave the cave, but they risk being destroyed for their efforts, just as the prisoners might attack anyone who tries to free them.
There’re Chinese people who would suffocate in that system or even end up dead or missing. Those with the means often choose to leave the system rather than sacrifice everything to change it from within. You will also find many overseas Chinese who leave China not because the West provides them more material well-being, but leave China in spite of all the material benefits they would’ve enjoyed if they had stayed.
In the end, the dilemma is this: Is it better to live in the shadows and find comfort in the known reality, even if it is an oppressive one, or to pursue an uncertain truth that could lead to ruin?
In Conclusion
The CCP’s internal propaganda machine is like a relentless, all-encompassing shadow, creeping into every corner of Chinese life. It extends from schools and news channels to daily life and is meticulously engineered to shape public opinion and squash dissent from cradle to grave. The CCP doesn’t just use propaganda; it’s an art form, ensuring that the Party’s narrative is the only game in town.
The CCP isn’t merely influential—it’s a reality-bending machine that makes it seem as if the Party is the linchpin of China’s stability and success. As the CCP continues to refine its playbook and assert its vision, we’re left wondering how long this elaborate charade can last? Or will the Party’s propaganda remain robust enough to maintain its iron grip on the nation when Chinese people become rich enough to afford Margaritas and also drink them? Only time will tell.
[1] https://www.quora.com/Why-does-the-world-look-away-when-the-CCP-abuses-people-in-occupied-Tibet-https-www-instagram-com-reel-C3uP72gOXiM-igsh-MWJ4cDQ0aWc4bjc3Nw?top_ans=24252873