Chapter Five - What You Can’t Say

CHAPTER FIVE

What You Can’t Say

THERE ARE NO signs posted.
No loud announcements.
No one hands you a list.

But there are things you don’t say in China.

Not on the street.
Not on your feed.
Not at your job.
Not even in your own apartment, if your phone is nearby — which it always is.

Everyone knows the core topics.
You don’t criticize the government.
You don’t question the Party.
You don’t mock the leader — not even as a joke.

You don’t talk about the Three T’s:

• Tibet
• Taiwan
• Tiananmen

You don’t praise protests.
You don’t say the word “freedom” too often.
You don’t bring up Hong Kong unless you’re praising its return.

Even using emojis or memes can be dangerous.
The image of Winnie the Pooh — once used to mock Xi Jinping — is filtered. So are nicknames, euphemisms, and number codes that might hint at banned topics.

You can still have private thoughts.
But you don’t always know what’s private anymore.

Group chats are monitored.
Workplace apps are watched.
Even casual conversations can echo — if the wrong person hears, or the algorithm flags it, or someone reports it to stay safe themselves.

Sometimes, it’s not the police.
Sometimes it’s your boss, your landlord, your school, your neighborhood committee — the hyperlocal Party groups responsible for managing “social stability” at the block level.

They’ll call you in.
Ask a few polite questions.
Advise you to delete the post, stop the conversation, write a self-criticism.
You’re not in trouble — not officially.
But you know not to do it again.

Journalists are careful.
Academics are careful.
Foreigners are careful.
Everyone learns how to speak around a subject.
Indirectness becomes a survival tool.

If you say nothing at all, you’re safest.

And over time, people stop trying.

It’s not that everyone agrees.

It’s just that they’ve learned:

Some things aren’t even worth thinking about.