Reason's Sarah McLaughlin describes "
a pretty scary moment" at George Washington University.
Last month, global protests unfurled in the wake of the Chinese Communist Party's National Congress. Dissenters around the world called for dignity, freedom, and an end to "zero COVID" in China. At George Washington University (GWU), an anonymous group of Chinese students joined the protests, continuing their monthslong campus campaign against the CCP and its censors.
Because of the very real potential for reprisal against the students and their families both at home in China and here in the United States, their anonymity is vitally important—and closely guarded. But while they were posting flyers recently, a man approached them, spoke to them in Chinese, demanded that they identify themselves, and pulled out his phone and pressed record. Months earlier, some of their fellow students had demanded their university unmask and punish them. Their anonymity, so carefully preserved, remains on a knife's edge.
If you see something, say something. The article strongly suggests that George Washington's administration and faculty are too pusillanimous to tell the Chi Coms what they can do with their surveillance. All that is necessary for these Chi Com thugs to get their way is for Normals to do nothing.
What does an individual in an oppressive society owe his fellow citizens when he has the opportunity to speak freely? Does he have a duty to say something, even if it puts him in harm's way?
To most Americans, this may come across as an abstraction. We all have different ideas about citizenship, what it requires of us, and our obligations to other Americans. But these debates take place within our free society. The parameters, and the stakes, are different. The consequences we fear are usually social, not legal.
To China's politically dissident students, though, whose travels take them from Barcelona to Brisbane to Berkeley, this is a profound question. Their status as international students abroad grants them temporary reprieve from the CCP's most blatant and immediate forms of suppression and protections—on paper, at least—for their right to speak freely in their campus and host country. Those liberties, though, come with an asterisk. Chinese students know all too well that their activities remain closely surveilled even overseas.
So, too, can the activities of minor Chinese officials be surveilled. Somebody publicly asking overseas students to reveal their faces and recording the protest is asking to be recorded himself. Preferably by College Republicans, but any old passer-by will do. It's not likely that the Chi Coms are sending senior intelligence officers to engage in intimidation; it's more likely that any minor functionary whose image ends up on social media, particularly if it's College Republicans or Young America's Foundation social media, is going to find himself reassigned somewhere out of country. Patriots in Barcelona or Brisbane or Manchester, pay attention.
In addition, a person recording a public gathering has no grounds for objecting to other people recording the public gathering, and the proper response to a Chi Com functionary asking a passer-by to stop recording him is to say no; and whether that functionary persists in asking, or escalates, or not, advise campus security or local law enforcement what is going on. Our turf, our rules. Let us see videos of Chi Com functionaries moping off.
What might be spectacular is for campus conservative students to turn out in support of the Chinese dissidents. Particularly if there might be students with a Marine or Special Forces background in the rally: not, mind you, to use force, let campus security know if the functionary gets cranky, but just to let the functionaries think twice.