Loud and Mighty: Navigating the Future of Chinese Diasporic Media
The Chinese diasporic media operates within a fragmented and turbulent environment. It is exceedingly difficult to deliver uncensored, meaningful content that can connect communities and reflect the complex realities of life both within and outside China. Over the past decade, Xi Jinping’s administration has tightened its grip on Chinese society by expanding state control and pursuing an aggressively nationalist and increasingly isolationist agenda, which has curtailed freedoms, reshaped China’s global relations, and eroded spaces for independent thought and dissent. This has triggered a new wave of outbound migration, reshaping the Chinese diaspora. The emigration of Chinese elites and newly affluent individuals has introduced an influx of fresh talent and perspectives to the diaspora. At the same time, Hong Kong has witnessed the erosion of its democracy and the collapse of its once vibrant market for independent publications and media. In this evolving context, overseas Chinese diasporic media and social platforms have become not just more diverse but also increasingly active and more significant in offering uncensored, alternative content, reflecting both opportunities and challenges.
Demand for unfiltered news in Chinese language among Chinese readers both within China and in the diaspora is huge and growing. While the White Paper Movement that erupted across China in late 2022 against the government’s draconian Zero-Covid policy served as a recent and prominent trigger for political expression and civic participation within China (Connery 2022), coverage of the protests also underscored longstanding issues and growing market demands within the Chinese diaspora for information from both outside and inside the Great Firewall. As 2025 unfolds, I find myself taking pride in the work at Dasheng (大声), a community-driven, independent media enterprise that seeks to confront these challenges head-on. In just one year, I have established Dasheng as a thriving media platform. My motivation for establishing Dasheng and the path I have taken to explore a way forward for overseas Chinese media professionals may offer insights into how a veteran journalist can forge a new road for the diasporic media.
A Watershed Moment
On a brisk November evening in 2022, I sat on the couch in my New York residence, perusing Chinese social media timelines. On WeChat, I encountered numerous posts from friends who are predominantly liberal-minded intellectuals and civil society practitioners. My feed was inundated with videos and photographs taken in the streets of Beijing, Shanghai, Chengdu, and Guangzhou—scenes that appeared almost surreal. Demonstrators congregated in urban centres, vociferously proclaiming slogans such as ‘Down with the Chinese Communist Party’ and ‘We demand a free press’, while brandishing sheets of blank white paper—silent yet resolute emblems of defiance. That night initiated what would subsequently be called the ‘White Paper Movement’, an extraordinary and unparalleled protest against the Chinese Government’s stringent Covid-19 restrictions. Driven by valour and latent resentment towards the governance of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), it was entirely decentralised and primarily spearheaded by urban youth.
An intense fervour drove me into action at that precise moment. My sole intention was to tweet updates and inform the world about the events occurring in China. I was profoundly affected by the bravery of those Chinese people who stood up to voice their concerns. The largest, most diverse public demonstration in China in years, the White Paper protests validated a conviction I have always maintained: even amid control and coercion, courage endures within individuals. This constituted genuine news, as for too long the world had been inadequately informed about China’s unvarnished reality due to the difficulties the international media faces in accessing genuine perspectives from ordinary individuals within the country.
In the subsequent 24 hours, I dedicated myself to chronicling the events. I posted videos, photographs, and translations on Twitter (now X), aiming to provide context for an international audience. My Twitter account experienced a surge in retweets, new followers, and quoted responses. While I did not care for fame, I was exhilarated that my tweets had emerged as a crucial, verified resource for international media organisations. As the events transpired, it took international media outlets several hours to grasp the significance of the situation. In the meantime, I provided my expertise as a professional journalist and analyst on social media. This helped establish me as a trusted media source for further reporting initiatives, as I provided essential insights and clarifications to a worldwide audience.
The experience was surreal, observing the bravery of the protesters and recognising the distance I had travelled from my former position in traditional media. Strangely, I felt lucky to no longer be employed as a BBC editor in Hong Kong. Had I remained in that newsroom, it would have been exceedingly difficult to report on the protests with the requisite speed and urgency. Bureaucratic obstacles—risk evaluations, flight reservations, team organisation, and reporter safety assurances—would have delayed us. By the time we arrived on the scene, the protests might have already been quelled. That day reaffirmed both my reasons for departing from traditional media and my lasting commitment to journalism, even beyond its conventional frameworks.
The White Paper Movement was not just a pivotal event but also a wake-up call, underscoring the enduring demand for uncensored, meaningful news narratives among Chinese-speaking communities and revealing the persistent shortcomings of existing platforms. Reflecting on my involvement in covering this movement, I recognised how deeply it resonated with the broader challenges the diasporic media has faced over decades. This experience provided a timely lens through which to evaluate both the critical gaps and the emerging opportunities in the diasporic media landscape. It reinforced the need for initiatives such as Dasheng to elevate discourse, bridge divides, and provide independent, uncensored content for these audiences.
The Diasporic Media Landscape Today
Dasheng was founded at a critical juncture, entering a diverse and dynamic field of Chinese diasporic media, where both established outlets and emerging voices adopt distinct approaches to telling Chinese stories beyond the mainland. Each comes with its own strengths and limitations, facing challenges of credibility, sustainability, and audience trust in an ever-evolving media landscape.
Traditional diasporic media outlets such as Sing Tao Daily (星島日報), Ming Pao (明報), and World Journal (世界日報) once formed the backbone of overseas Chinese media. These publications catered to first-generation immigrants, providing news in their native language while preserving cultural traditions and bridging the gap between their homeland and host countries. For decades, these outlets represented the voices of Chinese communities worldwide, focusing on both local and global issues.
However, their relevance has been waning in the digital age. These legacy outlets, while still respected by older generations, struggle to compete with newer digital platforms and social media influencers. The transition to digital formats has been uneven, and their content often feels disconnected from the younger, tech-savvy diasporic audiences who prefer faster, more interactive, and multimedia-driven platforms.
In the past two decades, digital media has transformed the landscape entirely. Platforms such as Wenxuecity (文學城) and Boxun News (博訊新聞) pioneered this shift, providing alternative narratives and unfiltered discussions on China-related topics. These websites became essential hubs for overseas Chinese to access uncensored information, discuss sensitive issues, and build communities.
The emergence of social media platforms such as X, YouTube, and Telegram has further reshaped the space. Influencers and opinion leaders have built large followings by producing accessible, often emotionally charged content. Figures such as the dissident artist Ai Weiwei and independent commentators such as Wang Zhian, a former Chinese state media host, have turned these platforms into battlegrounds for free speech, amplifying uncensored perspectives and challenging authoritarian narratives.
However, this rapid growth is not without drawbacks. The lack of professional editorial standards among new media creators often results in sensationalism and misinformation. The pursuit of clicks and followers has skewed priorities, sidelining in-depth reporting in favour of eye-catching, emotionally satisfying content.
International outlets such as The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal have also entered the landscape, offering translations into Chinese of their English-language reporting. While these platforms provide valuable information, they often fail to resonate on a deeper level with Chinese-speaking audiences. The translated content is tailored for an English-speaking readership, leaving Sinophone readers feeling alienated and disconnected.
These efforts by international outlets, while important, underscore the gap with truly engaging, original reporting that speaks directly to the unique concerns and cultural nuances of Chinese-speaking audiences. Instead of building a bridge between global perspectives and the Sinophone world, these Chinese-edition platforms often feel like an afterthought, offering content that lacks the authenticity and cultural sensitivity required to connect meaningfully with their intended audience.
The rise of grassroots initiatives and independent media projects has brought fresh perspectives to the landscape. Platforms such as China Digital Times (中国数字时代), Initium Media (端传媒), and independent student-led publications such as Mang Mang (莽莽) and Tying Knots (结绳志) have redefined the boundaries of diasporic media. These outlets combine investigative journalism, cultural commentary, and innovative storytelling to engage younger, more globally minded audiences.
Social media accounts such as Teacher Li on X (@whyyoutouzhele) have emerged as vital sources of real-time information, aggregating and disseminating censored content to audiences both inside and outside the Great Firewall. These grassroots efforts often rely on small teams and limited resources but have proven remarkably effective in amplifying independent voices and fostering critical discourse.
Challenges
The landscape of Chinese diasporic media is shaped by a complex set of challenges, both tied to and independent of Chinese state influence. While Beijing’s far-reaching propaganda efforts continue to shape narratives and suppress dissent, these media outlets also grapple with structural issues common to independent journalism, including financial instability, audience trust, and the struggle to uphold journalistic integrity in an era of digital disruption. As a result, diasporic Chinese media must navigate not only political pressures but also the broader crisis of sustainability and credibility that affects media industries worldwide.
First, there is the issue of censorship and propaganda. The CCP’s ‘external propaganda’ (大外宣) campaign has profoundly shaped the diasporic media landscape. Through acquisitions of overseas Chinese-language media outlets and strategic funding of local news outlets outside China, Beijing has extended its influence far beyond its borders (Maiko 2024). These state-backed entities operate as extensions of the CCP’s domestic propaganda machinery, disseminating narratives that glorify Chinese nationalism and reinforce the Party’s ideological control.
One example is Sing Tao Daily (星岛日報), one of the largest Chinese-language newspapers in North America, which was once a privately owned Hong Kong–based media outlet but has increasingly leaned towards pro-Beijing messaging. In 2021, its US edition was registered as a ‘foreign agent’ under the US Foreign Agents Registration Act due to its ties to Chinese state media. Similarly, platforms such as the China News Service (中国新闻社), originally a domestic news agency, have actively expanded into diasporic communities, disseminating CCP-approved content while portraying themselves as independent news sources.
This influence stifles independent voices and leaves limited room for genuine, alternative reporting. Even audiences outside China often find themselves caught in a web of manipulated narratives, as CCP-funded outlets flood the space with state-approved content. For independent media, combating this well-funded machinery is like fighting a giant with limited resources.
A second challenge derives from the fragmentation of the diasporic media landscape and subsequent market constraints. Compared with the Chinese State’s external propaganda operations, diasporic Chinese media is deeply fragmented, shaped by linguistic, generational, and ideological divides. On one hand, there are the legacy media platforms mentioned above, such as Ming Pao or Sing Tao Daily, which still cater to older generations. On the other hand, digital-first platforms and social media influencers target younger, tech-savvy audiences. This divide results in a lack of cohesive vision or strategy, leaving independent outlets unable to compete with state-backed propaganda or traffic-driven sensationalist content.
This fragmentation also dilutes the impact of diasporic media. Each outlet or platform operates in its own niche, often without collaboration or unified efforts to present a strong counternarrative to CCP-driven messaging. This situation adds to the financial challenges faced by many diasporic outlets. Many independent outlets rely heavily on donations, subscriptions, or advertising revenue to sustain their operations. Securing consistent financial support is difficult in a cutthroat digital environment where large, well-funded entities (both state-backed and commercial) dominate.
This resource scarcity limits the ability to produce in-depth, original reporting or to maintain professional editorial standards. Instead, many outlets are forced to compromise on quality, focusing on easily produced content that attracts clicks but lacks journalistic depth. Sustainability becomes even more precarious when these outlets face cyberattacks, disinformation campaigns, and harassment—tactics often employed to undermine their credibility and operations.
Market constraints on quality diasporic journalism also arise from the audience themselves. Decades of immersion in CCP-controlled media have shaped the consumption habits and expectations of many Chinese audiences. Even after emigrating, these audiences often carry the same frameworks of consumption, favouring content that aligns with their biases and emotional needs. This creates a demand for sensationalist, low-quality content that reinforces their existing world views.
For content creators, this demand incentivises the production of emotionally satisfying but shallow content. Instead of prioritising fact-checking, investigative reporting, or thoughtful analysis, many outlets cater to what can be called ‘emotional value’ (情緒價值)—content designed to provoke anger, provide catharsis, or entertain. This cycle perpetuates a poorly informed audience and further devalues meaningful journalism.
Another common challenge that the diasporic media faces is narrative integrity and journalistic standards. Years of CCP-controlled media have eroded the originality and vibrancy of the Chinese language itself. As noted by scholars such as Geremie Barmé (2018), state control over media and language has led to a narrowing of linguistic diversity and expression, with the language of propaganda becoming pervasive in both official and public spheres, stifling critical thought and genuine creativity. Propagandistic language, which glorifies Chinese imperialism, enforces ideological conformity, and fuels hyper-nationalism, has seeped into the broader discourse, both inside and outside China. This also extends to the diaspora, where politically motivated rhetoric frequently overshadows sincere storytelling.
Younger generations in the diaspora also face linguistic barriers. Many descendants of Chinese immigrants lack the language proficiency to engage meaningfully with Sinophone media, while older generations struggle to adapt to digital platforms. These generational and linguistic gaps further complicate the ability of diasporic media to create content that resonates with a diverse audience.
The lack of integrity and narrative diversity are compounded by the proliferation of new media platforms such as YouTube and X. Digital technologies have created new opportunities for free expression but also led to a race to the bottom in terms of quality. As mentioned above, many content creators prioritise traffic, sensationalism, and emotional engagement over accuracy, integrity, and depth.
The dominance of emotionally charged content—whether it is ranting, outrage-driven videos, or clickbait headlines—creates a cycle in which audiences become accustomed to shallow reporting. Serious journalism struggles to compete with these low-value offerings, further eroding public trust in the media. As a result, the line between commentary, activism, and journalism becomes increasingly blurred, undermining the credibility of the entire diasporic media ecosystem.
The obstacles to building trust in Chinese diasporic media are further complicated by the existence of Falun Gong–affiliated outlets such as The Epoch Times (大纪元) and New Tang Dynasty (新唐人). These outlets have created a robust matrix of content production aimed at dismantling CCP narratives. However, their strong religious and political tendencies often undermine their credibility. The Epoch Times has been criticised for spreading conspiracy theories and adopting a sensationalist approach that at times distorts the narratives it seeks to challenge (Roose 2020; Nguyen 2025). While they provide an essential counterpoint to CCP propaganda, their narratives are often shaped by divisive rhetoric, sensationalism, and ideological framing that alienate neutral audiences. The editorial quality and ethics of these platforms often fall short of journalistic standards. Their anti-CCP stance, while necessary in some contexts, risks being perceived as overly polemical, which compromises their ability to serve as reliable sources of information for broader audiences.
Finally, one more challenge facing many in the Chinese diasporic media is their inability to overcome ideological insularity and Cold War binarism. Over the past two decades, there has been a worrying trend towards ideological insularity within Chinese-language media, both inside China and abroad. The rise of nationalism and populism has fuelled an inward-looking narrative that rejects global perspectives and portrays the West as inherently corrupt and hostile. This shift has curtailed the openness and curiosity that once characterised Chinese media, stifling the exchange of ideas and reinforcing an echo chamber of hostility and arrogance.
This insular mindset is mirrored in the diasporic media landscape, where demand increasingly reflects a similarly insular, nationalist, and hypercritical attitude, with China and its government as the subjects of relentless critique. For content creators who aim to produce globally informed, high-quality journalism, this environment is deeply frustrating. The audience’s declining interest in serious journalism and their preference for simplified, emotionally charged narratives further marginalise thoughtful, nuanced content.
Dasheng: A New Path for Diasporic Media
Dasheng was born out of frustration and hope—frustration with the fragmented, toxic state of diasporic media and hope, or rather belief, that high-quality media can exist even in a chaotic and often hostile environment. It is not about chasing trends or amplifying noise; it is about creating something meaningful. I did not want Dasheng to be just another platform. I wanted it to be a space where real conversations happen, where stories are told with care, and where critical thinking is encouraged. I wanted Dasheng to feel like a home for people who are tired of the same old sensationalism and political echo chambers, a place where they can come to think, discuss, and connect. Dasheng is my experiment in building a kind of media that values depth, honesty, and humanity over clicks, likes, and outrage.
At Dasheng, we publish original content that focuses on long-form journalism and cultural criticism, thoughtful analysis, and storytelling that do not rush to conclusions, with the kind of rigour and care that often seem lost in today’s media landscape. Dasheng is not just about reporting on events; it is also about trying to make sense of them, placing them in context, and asking questions that matter. It is a way to broaden the conversation beyond the headlines. More than a publishing platform, Dasheng is also a space for interactions. Our community side allows people to share their own stories and perspectives. Whether through forums, blogs, or comments, it is a place where voices can be heard and ideas can collide.
We extend Dasheng’s presence through platforms such as YouTube, X, and podcasts, allowing us to connect with diverse audiences in different formats. Our YouTube channel has become a cornerstone of our work, featuring video interviews, personal commentaries, and short documentaries. Through this medium, we have tackled issues such as censorship, diasporic identity, and the generational erosion of the Chinese language.
One of the most rewarding parts of building Dasheng has been the video interviews. These conversations form the heart of what we do, offering unfiltered insights into lives and issues often ignored or oversimplified. For example, we interviewed a Chinese feminist activist, Li Maizi, who spoke about the growing gender divide in China and the crackdown on feminist voices (Dasheng Community 2024b). Another conversation featured self-exiled writer Murong Xuecun, who left the country to publish his book on the Wuhan Covid-control scandal, who describes how he worked to start a new immigrant life without giving up his writing for global readers (Dasheng Community 2024a). Through these interviews, we aim to provide not just information but also understanding, bridging the gap between the audience and the reality shaping Chinese society.
Running Dasheng is not easy. As I discussed in this essay, the media environment is saturated with noise, propaganda, and low-quality content. Platforms chase traffic with clickbait and emotional triggers, leaving little room for thoughtful journalism. Add to that the CCP’s external propaganda machine and its endless resources, and the task can feel Sisyphean. But this is exactly why Dasheng exists. We are not trying to cater to everyone. Instead, we focus on those who are tired of the noise and looking for something real. It is a small audience, but it is meaningful—and that is what keeps us going.
For media outlets and especially startups such as Dasheng, sustainability is a constant battle. It is hard to keep a platform alive without falling into the trap of sensationalism or compromising editorial independence. Dasheng runs lean—our costs are low, and we rely heavily on community contributions. We also stay away from the traffic-driven model that dominates so much of the diasporic media space, prioritising quality over quantity, trusting that there is an audience out there who values careful, honest work. This is not just about money; it is also about building something of which people feel they are part. It is slow going, but it is the only way to build something that lasts.
Dasheng is still young, and there is a lot we are figuring out as we go. But what is clear is that there is a hunger for what we are trying to do. In less than a year, we have found not just an audience but also a community—people who care about the same things we do and who believe in the possibility of better media. This journey has been both humbling and encouraging. It is not easy to challenge the status quo, but every thoughtful comment, every shared story, and every reader who finds value in what we do remind me why Dasheng matters. It is not just about filling gaps in the media landscape; it is also about creating something that can inspire others to do the same.
Through Dasheng, I want to remind people that the media can be more than a business or a tool for influence. It can be a bridge, a mirror, a voice, and a refuge. It can challenge us, connect us, and help us see the world—and ourselves—more clearly. Dasheng is my way of exploring what the diasporic media could look like if we focused on quality, inclusivity, and integrity. It is a small step, but I hope it is part of a larger movement towards better, more meaningful media. I do not have all the answers, but I know that asking the right questions and creating the space for others to join the conversation are a good place to start.
Featured Image: Dasheng published a special program ‘The Cost of Telling the Truth in China: Lao Dongyan Targeted by Online “Big-Character Posters” and More’ in which Vivian Wu discussed the rising cost of speaking out in China, from online attacks to enforced silence under real-name internet rules. Source: Dasheng Media.
References
Barmé, Geremie. 2018. ‘On New China Newspeak.’ China Heritage, 9 January. chinaheritage.net/journal/on-new-china-newspeak.
Connery, Christopher. 2022. ‘Wulumuqi Road.’ Made in China Journal 7(2): 18–31.
Dasheng Community. 2024a. ‘Writer Murong Xuecun Reflects 3 Years in Exile: Defeat Nihilism with Documentation and Telling Truth.’ Dasheng Community YouTube channel, 16 February. www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nYkZujgtUg.
Dasheng Community. 2024b. ‘Li Maizi of China’s Feminist Five (1): Activists’ Struggle as Space to Challenge Power Shrinks.’ Dasheng Community YouTube channel, 9 June. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94rSkmZCx3g.
Maiko, Ichihara. 2024. ‘China’s Expanding Influence Operations: Online Propagandists Play the Long Game.’ Nippon.com, 16 February. www.nippon.com/en/in-depth/d00971.
Nguyen, Thuy. 2025. ‘Rising Media Enclave Extremism: The Case of the Epoch Times and Ethnic Mobilization on the Far-Right.’ Howard Journal of Communications, online first. doi.org/10.1080/10646175.2025.2455590.
Roose, Kevin. 2020. ‘How The Epoch Times Created a Giant Influence Machine.’ The New York Times, 24 October. www.nytimes.com/2020/10/24/technology/epoch-times-influence-falun-gong.html.
