If you were to enter the virtual “corridor” of the Clubhouse app for guests only and for iOS over the weekend, you would see discussion rooms titled, in Chinese, “youth chat on both sides of the strait”, “the Living Room” of the Silicon Valley investor ”,“ are there internment camps in Xinjiang? ”and“ now is the best time to return to China? ”Inside these rooms, thousands from mainland China, Taiwan, Hong Kong and another Chinese-speaking diaspora around the world they stood in line patiently for hours, even days, for a chance to speak their minds for a few minutes, while others listened in silence and tentatively Most rooms had been running non-stop for days. one room to another, usually after spending the night awake.
For the first time in more than a decade, selected users in mainland China, usually surrounded by the Great Firewall, were able to be on the same social media platform as the rest of the world, communicating freely with other Chinese and Diaspora-speaking communities. (YouTube, Twitter and Facebook were blocked by the Great Firewall in 2007, 2009 and 2009, respectively.) For a younger generation, this is the first time that they have been able to communicate directly with their counterparts across the Taiwan Strait or other borders.
However, after a weekend, many users describe it as “unforgettable”, the app has been placed behind the Great Firewall since Monday morning, Eastern Time, or Monday night, Eastern Time Beijing. Many remain in the app via a virtual private network connection, while warning each other not to disconnect, as Chinese cell phones are unable to receive the verification code needed to connect again.
The Clubhouse was first popularized in China by Elon Musk, who has a cult following among tech-savvy Chinese and joined the platform to much fanfare on February 1. Although the app doesn’t exist on Apple’s Chinese App Store, many have found ways to download it, eager to try the new audio social media platform “drop in” for themselves. Invitation codes for the app were on sale on Chinese social media for up to 300 yuan ($ 47). Long lines formed in WeChat groups, where the next person to enter the Clubhouse would invite those behind them. These users represent the upper echelons of China’s socio-economic strata, with access to an iOS device, a foreign app store, social connections with an early guest, or leisure time to queue for an invitation code.
Early users were attracted by the high density of Western technology investors and entrepreneurs on the platform. However, as Chinese-speaking users reached critical mass, international curiosity took over. The rooms designed to connect those outside mainland China and those inside have grown rapidly. Those inside were eager to learn about the different external views and perspectives, and those outside were hungry for authentic voices from within. The result? A decade of pent-up demand for communication with the other side of the Great Firewall was unleashed at the Clubhouse.
The first discussions were highly controversial, including occasional shouting. However, moderators quickly solved the problem by establishing rules: One speaker at a time, for a limited time, without interruption. (Unlike platforms like Twitter, moderation in the Clubhouse contributes a lot to civility.) The rooms that solved the problem of civility also addressed the problem of equity. Many rooms had rules that a male speaker should be followed by a woman, or a Uighur speaker by a Han speaker, or rules that users can only share first-person reports – without retorts, rhetorical questions or comprehensive generalizations about an entire group. allowed.
Many also attribute the civility of the conversations to the humanizing effect of the voices. “Once you hear someone’s voice break, you can’t help feeling empathetic,” said a man on the night of February 2 in the room entitled “the night of the club being blocked – gather 100 of the moments of light from us being in the club . “He continued,” the human voice raises the temperature of the conversation to body temperature. ” He admitted to crying several times during his short period at the Clubhouse.
Whether political or not, all discussions were sincere, intimate, emotional and full of moving personal accounts. Chinese-speaking people at home and abroad, sometimes softly speaking, sometimes fervently or even crying, on their iPhones, shared their ideas and experiences of freedom of expression (or lack thereof), racial discrimination, treatment of China at minorities, sexism, mental illness, domestic violence and more.
A Taiwanese woman shared her work experience in Shanghai, trying to fit in while maintaining her identity and dealing with the fact that she was not understood by her colleagues from the continent. A worker in the Chinese technology industry told about the price that China’s overtime work culture “996” (from 9 am to 9 pm, six days a week) charged him and his family. A Cantonese woman talked about how her friendship with her friends in Hong Kong was damaged during protests against the extradition law in recent years. A student from mainland China shared her concern about whether democracy would make China as divided as the United States. Uighur activists told about the torture they endure daily without knowing when they will see their families again. In response to one of these stories, a Chinese man said, “If I had experienced what you went through, I’m not sure I would be as strong as you are.”
That week, it was common to hear users, in various flavors of the Chinese language, say that the Clubhouse taught them to listen (much more time is spent listening than speaking) and it was an honor to listen to others.
In addition to reports and first-hand views, the information also traveled across the border at the Clubhouse. Activists exchanged notes on best anti-doxxing practices; software programmers negotiated salary ranges between Shenzhen and Silicon Valley; victims of domestic violence exchanged notes about self-care.
On Friday night, the anniversary of the death of China’s coronavirus whistleblower, hundreds joined a quiet room entitled “Doctor Li Wenliang’s silent remembrance”. In another room, focused on reducing depression, each “speaker” played a song without exchanging words.
The Clubhouse week gave us a brief glimpse of what an internet with unfiltered Chinese voices might look like. These voices also enriched others’ understanding of China. With the app now blocked, except for a small group of interlocutors with VPNs, both sides are back to guessing. The blockade seems cruel and personal, because it happened at the moment when the appetite for communication had just been stimulated in an ideal way and when so many souls who yearned for a sense of connection, belonging and cultural identity were just beginning to imagine new possibilities.
“We all have the right to speak and to be heard,” said a woman in the aforementioned room, “highlights at the Clubhouse.” “We all have the right to genuine human connections.”
Future Tense is a partnership of Slate, New America and Arizona State University that examines emerging technologies, public policy and society.