What China Tells Us About the Dynamics of Nonviolent Protest

"I felt like finally I could say what I've wanted to say," declared Kira Qao, a Shanghai resident who attended a candlelight vigil and protest there for the victims of the Urumqi apartment building fire. Lockdown policies that made many millions of Chinese into virtual prisoners, sometimes for weeks or months, had recently produced angry protests in Guangzhou and battles between workers and security forces at the Foxconn IPhone plant in Zhengzhou.

Yet it was the Urumqi fire, which killed ten as it blazed through a partially locked-down high-rise tower, that sent thousands of Chinese into the streets all over the country, taking Xi Jinping's regime by surprise. These protests, which were by far the largest since 1989's Tiananmen Square actions, galvanized several generations of Chinese. Kira Qao was not alone in finding the courage to speak openly --and, at least in that moment, in feeling a bit of relief along with the fear.

What we can learn from these events about the dynamics of nonviolent protests, and what can we expect going forward in terms of the regime's response?

The majority of the Chinese protesters had a "single-issue" grievance: they wanted an end to the government's draconian restrictions on movement and a return to some semblance of normal life. As China expert Mary Gallagher reminds us, "livelihood" or "quality of life" protests are not unheard of in China, but they are often connected to a specific local situation or corrupt official.

Then the pandemic and the lockdowns arrived, creating an unprecedented situation. Tens of millions shared an experience of deprivation and frustration with the hardline policies of the government that spanned regions, economic classes, and ethnicities. This produced a sense of a united destiny sufficient to make an apartment fire in a far-off region --Xinjiang, with a majority-Muslim population subjected to mass incarceration-- a tragedy worth mourning in Shanghai and beyond.

Candlelight vigil in Shanghai for the victims of the Urumqi apartment fire, Nov. 28, 2022/Reuters

Moreover, some demonstrators, including in Shanghai, also called for "democracy not dictatorship," "freedom of expression," and a few asked Xi to step down. This placed these protests in a category of political dissent that potentially threatens the stability of the system and so must be repressed.

The rapid spread of protests among university students is particularly worrying to Chinese authorities. This infographic shows that 79 universities, including the elite incubator Tsinghua University, Xi's alma mater, held protests.

As momentum builds with protest movements, and more people join, a sense of purpose and solidarity are strengthened, as well as a feeling that an opening has been created for public expression. "If we don't speak up due to fear...I think our people would be disappointed. As a Tsinghua student, I'd regret this for the rest of my life," one demonstrator reflected.  

And for every individual who dared to protest in public, many more supported them by circulating messages and memes on social media sites and apps. The government's prompt purges of these gave rise to the protests' symbol: blank white squares, standing for the regime's suppression of speech and refusal to acknowledge the protests in state media.

All of this is why Wang Dan, a leader of the 1989 protests who lives in exile, believes that we are seeing "the beginning of a new era in China...in which Chinese civil society has decided not to be silent and to confront tyranny"--and why he warned that a coming crackdown was probable.

In fact, the apparently all-powerful strongman Xi finds himself more vulnerable than expected. He cannot tolerate any perception of incompetency due to the failures of the "zero-Covid" policies that he has made his "brand." And he knows well that his ongoing power grab, which has seen him appoint himself to a third term, has caused some discontent even within the party elite. In August 2021, three Communist Party notables circulated an open letter denouncing Xi's revival of a Mao-style personality cult and calling for reforms.

Moreover, the slowing of Chinese economic growth and the collapse of the real estate sector may compromise the regime's "authoritarian bargain" with the middle class and elites: prosperity for them in return for tolerating heavy censorship and denial of freedoms.

When an autocrat feels insecure, repression of dissent is almost always their answer. In this case, a  surveillance state of a staggering scale prepares the regime for such actions.

While there were some detentions during the protests, police mostly observed the events. Breaking up protests right at the start, deterring others from joining, is old-school. Far better to let people gather and then use data from mobile phones (including apps introduced to monitor Covid exposure) and hundreds of millions of public cameras, some armed with facial recognition software, to identify participants and punish them later.

In the meantime, the Chinese government has dispersed students by sending them home early. Using the excuse of Covid outbreaks on campuses, it ordered that classes for the rest of the semester be held virtually, along with final exams.

It has also acknowledged public discontent by relaxing some restrictions in certain areas, including Urumqi. Public bus service will resume, food markets will open in areas where the risk of infection is low, and gates will be removed from the entrances to some apartment compounds.

For some, this may be enough to quiet the anger from being treated in an inhumane manner for so long. Yet dismissing these protests and candlelight vigils as "hostile forces" or foreign-prompted actions (that's the usual script authoritarians use against protesters) will likely erode the regime's popularity and legitimacy further over time.

For now, the streets are mostly quiet again. And it is likely that this experience will send the regime into a new repressive spiral, including possibly accelerating the timetable for any imperialist actions regarding Taiwan.

Yet a new generation of Chinese protesters has gotten a lesson in the efficacy of collective action that they won't forget any time soon. As exiled Hong Kong dissident Nathan Law tweeted during the protests, "History in the making. We have no idea whether we are in the beginning, middle or end of it. But we are sure that history will mark what you have done as something magnificent. History will treat you well. No matter what will happen, your effort is not going in vain."