作者：小舞（@reporterxiaowu）
“过不了互联网这一关，就过不了长期执政这一关。”
当习近平亲自把互联网治理与共产党的长期执政联系在一起时，这句话其实已经点明了互联网在中共政治安全体系中的特殊位置。对他们而言，这是事关执政周期的命门；而对我们而言，也由此看见了这个看似强大巨人的阿喀琉斯之踵。
所谓“长期执政这一关”，已经是习近平相当委婉的说法。说得直白一点，就是共产党能否继续掌握国家政权，会不会有一天失去执政地位。
那么问题来了：一个看上去如此强大的政权，拥有超过一亿党员，对社会的控制深入普通人的日常生活，又筑起了世界上规模庞大的互联网审查与封锁体系，为什么它的最高领导人仍然如此在意“互联网这一关”，甚至把它直接提升到能否“长期执政”的高度？
如果互联网只是一种传播工具，为什么会被置于政权存续的尺度上衡量？如果现有的控制体系已经足够牢固，又为什么需要不断强化网络审查、舆论引导和信息封锁？
习近平的这句话，无意间提出了一个比答案本身更值得追问的问题：互联网究竟拥有怎样的力量，以至于一个拥有庞大组织体系和严密社会控制能力的执政党，仍然把能否驾驭它视为关乎长期执政的一道关口？
从习近平长期、反复强调“互联网这一关”这个细节可以看出，这并非一次会议上的偶然表态，而是被持续置于中共执政安全的框架中加以强调。至少从他的公开表述来看，互联网显然不是一个单纯的技术或传播问题，而是一个需要党内长期保持警惕的政治问题。
当一个最高领导人反复把互联网与“长期执政”联系在一起时，其中传递的政治信号已经十分清楚：互联网这一关不能失守。因为在这种政治逻辑之下，失去的可能不仅是网络舆论的控制权，还可能进一步触及执政安全本身。
也正因此，“过不了互联网这一关，就过不了长期执政这一关”值得反过来理解：习近平是在反复提醒他的党内同志，必须牢牢控制互联网，决不能让它成为中共长期执政的致命软肋。
习近平所担忧的软肋，也可以成为我们突破铁幕的另一个方向。
今天的中国已经不是一百多年前的晚清。改变中国的政治格局，不可能简单复制一次武昌起义，更不可能寄希望于传统意义上的武装暴动。一个最现实的事实是，散布在世界各地的反共人士和民主力量，既没有条件，也没有能力组织一支足以与中国庞大的现代化军事和国家机器相抗衡的武装力量。
与此同时，如果政治行动长期停留在中共驻外使领馆门前举牌、喊口号，其传播范围和实际影响也十分有限。抗议当然具有表达立场、凝聚群体和保存历史记录的意义，但如果希望让更多中国人接触未经官方筛选的信息，仅靠线下活动远远不够。
现阶段，能够跨越地域边界持续发挥作用的工具之一，就是互联网。
它不要求人们拥有军队，不需要占领一座城市，也不以暴力作为传播思想的前提。文章、图片、视频、直播和社交媒体，可以突破地理距离，把原本彼此孤立的人连接起来，让被删除的信息重新出现，让被禁止讨论的问题继续被讨论，让官方叙事之外的声音获得传播空间。
对于一个长期强调舆论导向和意识形态领导权的政治体系而言，互联网带来的重要变量，就是信息传播权力的分散。
过去，报纸、电视、广播、出版社构成的信息传播体系高度集中。一件事情能不能报道、如何报道、报道到什么程度，都存在明确的把关机制。从记者、编辑到总编，从媒体机构到宣传主管部门，信息必须经过一道又一道“闸门”。在这样的传播结构下，一份指令、一个电话、一纸通知，就足以让一条新闻从报纸版面、电视画面和公共视野中消失。
互联网首先改变的是信息传播的权力结构。过去只有少数机构掌握的麦克风，被分散到了无数普通人手中；过去需要经过层层审核才能抵达公众的信息，现在可以由一个身处现场的普通人，用一部手机、一张照片、一段视频，在极短时间内传播出去。
更重要的是，权力可以删除一篇文章，可以让一段视频消失，可以封禁一个账号，却越来越难保证所有人都没有看见过它。
即便中共建立包括网号、网证在内的网络身份管理制度，拥有庞大的内容审查体系，又用防火墙阻断大量境外信息进入中国，只要中国仍然接入国际互联网，互联网互联互通的基本属性就很难被彻底消除。封锁可以增加获取信息的成本，审查可以压缩表达空间，却很难保证所有信息都被永久隔绝在边界之外。
信息突破，让被封锁的消息仍有机会穿透审查；议题设置，让普通人可以提出官方媒体不愿提出的问题；身份连接，让原本互不相识、散落各地的人因为共同关注的议题彼此发现；公共动员，让线上讨论有可能进一步转化为现实中的公共参与；而对官方叙事垄断的削弱，则意味着一个政府越来越难仅仅依靠控制传统媒体，就决定整个社会能够看到什么、讨论什么以及相信什么。
信息突破、议题设置、身份连接、公共动员、叙事竞争——互联网把这些过去难以由普通人同时掌握的能力，大规模分散到了社会之中。
也正因为如此，中共面对互联网所做的事情，从来不只是“管理网络”，而是在互联网改变信息权力结构之后，试图重新建立一道又一道被技术冲开的闸门。
那么，我们又能做些什么？
答案并不复杂。我们不需要制造虚假信息，更不需要用谣言对抗审查，只需要做好四件事情：
记录、核实、保存、传播。
文章可能被删除，就保存底稿；网页可能消失，就及时存档；图片和视频保留原始文件；重要材料建立包含时间、地点和来源的完整证据链；一个平台无法继续保存，就在其他合法平台留下副本；国内无法长期存在的重要公共资料，就进行境外和离线备份；面对真假混杂的信息，先核实，再传播。
目的只有一个：让事实越来越难以被彻底删除，让公共记忆不再随着一个又一个“404”消失。
删除仍然有效，却越来越难以等同于彻底消失；封锁仍然可以筑起高墙，却越来越难以保证墙的另一边永远无人看见。
如果越来越多的人开始自己记录事实，如果被删除的文字能够重新出现，被封锁的信息能够跨越边界，被遗忘的人和事件能够重新进入公共记忆，那么，一个高度依赖信息控制维持自身叙事的治理体系，还能不能永远把“互联网这一关”牢牢控制在自己手中？
或许，互联网给我们的，正是将铁幕撕开一道缝隙的可能。
不是用谎言对抗谎言，不是用暴力回应暴力，而是让真实的信息持续流动，让被删除的事实重新出现，让被噤声的人重新获得表达的机会，让原本彼此孤立的人能够看见彼此。
以真实对抗封锁，以记录抵抗遗忘。
我们无法决定一条信息最终能够走多远，也无法预知互联网究竟能够给中国带来怎样的政治变化。但至少可以让更多真实的记录留下来，让越来越多的人拥有接触不同信息、独立判断和自由表达的机会。
“过不了互联网这一关，就过不了长期执政这一关。”
习近平是在提醒他的党内同志，而对于所有关注中国政治变革的人来说，这句话还有另外一面值得思考：
当信息开始突破边界，当记录不再能够被轻易抹去，当越来越多的人重新获得记录、传播和表达的能力——
“互联网这一关”，会不会成为变革的突破口？
编辑：李晶 校对：周敏 翻译：沈美花
The “Internet Hurdle” That Worries Xi Jinping May Be the Very Breakthrough for Change
Author: Xiaowu (@reporterxiaowu)
“If we fail to pass the test of the internet, we will fail to pass the test of long-term governance.”
When Xi Jinping personally linked internet governance to the Communist Party’s long-term rule, this remark had already pinpointed the unique position the internet holds within the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) political security system. To them, it is the vital gate determining the lifespan of their rule; to us, it reveals the Achilles’ heel of this seemingly mighty giant.
The so-called “test of long-term governance” is already a rather euphemistic phrasing by Xi Jinping. Put bluntly, it is a question of whether the Communist Party can continue to hold state power, and whether it might one day lose its ruling status.
This begs the question: why does the supreme leader of a seemingly formidable regime—one that boasts over 100 million party members, exercises social control reaching deep into the daily lives of ordinary citizens, and has erected the world’s largest system of internet censorship and blockade—still care so deeply about this “internet hurdle,” even elevating it to the existential level of whether it can maintain “long-term governance”?
If the internet were merely a communication tool, why would it be measured on the scale of regime survival? If the existing system of control were already solid enough, why is there a constant need to intensify online censorship, public opinion guidance, and information blockades?
Xi Jinping’s remark inadvertently raises a question even more worth pursuing than the answer itself: what kind of power does the internet possess that causes a ruling party—with its massive organizational apparatus and tight social control—to still view mastering it as a make-or-break pass for its long-term rule?
From the detail that Xi Jinping has long and repeatedly emphasized the “test of the internet,” it is clear this was not a casual remark made at a single meeting, but something continuously stressed within the framework of the CCP’s regime security. At least judging from his public statements, the internet is clearly not a mere technical or communication issue, but a political issue requiring the Party’s constant vigilance.
When a supreme leader repeatedly links the internet to “long-term governance,” the political signal conveyed is crystal clear: this internet pass must not be lost. Because under this political logic, losing it could mean losing not just control over online public opinion, but potentially touching upon regime security itself.
Precisely for this reason, “if we fail to pass the test of the internet, we will fail to pass the test of long-term governance” deserves to be understood in reverse: Xi Jinping is repeatedly warning his comrades within the Party that they must keep a firm grip on the internet and never allow it to become the fatal vulnerability of the CCP’s long-term rule.
Yet the very vulnerability Xi Jinping fears can also become another direction for us to breach the Iron Curtain.
Today’s China is no longer the late Qing Dynasty of more than a century ago. Changing China’s political landscape cannot be achieved by simply replicating another 1911 Wuchang Uprising, nor can hopes be pinned on armed insurrection in the traditional sense. The most realistic fact is that anti-CCP dissidents and democratic forces scattered around the world have neither the conditions nor the capability to organize an armed force capable of rivaling China’s massive modern military and state apparatus.
At the same time, if political action remains stuck at holding placards and chanting slogans outside Chinese embassies and consulates abroad, its reach and actual impact will remain very limited. Protests certainly hold significance in expressing stances, uniting communities, and preserving historical records, but if we hope to allow more Chinese people to access information unfiltered by official channels, offline activities alone are far from enough.
At the current stage, one of the tools capable of exerting continuous influence across geographical boundaries is the internet.
It does not require people to possess an army, does not require occupying a city, and does not take violence as a prerequisite for spreading ideas. Articles, images, videos, livestreams, and social media can transcend geographical distances, connecting people who were originally isolated from one another, allowing deleted information to reappear, allowing banned topics to continue being discussed, and giving voices outside the official narrative room to spread.
For a political system that has long emphasized public opinion guidance and ideological leadership, the crucial variable introduced by the internet is the decentralization of the power to disseminate information.
In the past, the information dissemination system composed of newspapers, television, radio, and publishing houses was highly centralized. Clear gatekeeping mechanisms dictated whether an event could be reported, how it was reported, and to what extent. From reporters and editors to editors-in-chief, and from media outlets to propaganda authorities, information had to pass through one “floodgate” after another. Under such a communication structure, a single directive, a phone call, or a written notice was enough to make a piece of news vanish from newspaper pages, television screens, and the public eye.
What the internet changed first and foremost is the power structure of information dissemination. The microphones once held by only a handful of institutions have been distributed into the hands of countless ordinary people; information that once required layers of censorship before reaching the public can now be broadcast in an extremely short time by an ordinary person on the scene, using just a mobile phone, a photo, or a video clip.
More importantly, those in power can delete an article, make a video disappear, or ban an account, yet it is becoming increasingly difficult for them to guarantee that no one has ever seen it.
Even though the CCP has established a cyberspace identity management system—including state-issued “Cyber IDs” and authentication certificates—possesses a massive content censorship apparatus, and uses the Great Firewall to block vast amounts of overseas information from entering China, as long as China remains connected to the global internet, the fundamental interconnected nature of the web is difficult to completely eliminate. Blockades can raise the cost of accessing information, and censorship can shrink the space for expression, yet it is hard to ensure that all information is permanently sealed off beyond the border.
Information breakthroughs allow blocked news to still have a chance of piercing through censorship; agenda-setting enables ordinary people to raise questions that state media are unwilling to ask; identity connection allows strangers scattered across different regions to discover one another through shared concerns; public mobilization creates the possibility for online discussions to transform into real-world civic participation; and the weakening of the official narrative monopoly means it is increasingly difficult for a government to decide what an entire society can see, discuss, and believe solely by controlling traditional media.
Information breakthroughs, agenda-setting, identity connection, public mobilization, narrative competition—the internet has decentralized these capabilities, which ordinary people could rarely possess simultaneously in the past, across society on a massive scale.
It is precisely because of this that what the CCP does in facing the internet has never been merely “managing the network”; rather, after the internet altered the power structure of information, it has been trying to rebuild, one by one, the floodgates blown open by technology.
So, what can we do?
The answer is not complicated. We do not need to fabricate false information, nor do we need to fight censorship with rumors. We only need to do four things well:
Document, verify, preserve, and disseminate.
If articles might be deleted, save the original drafts; if webpages might vanish, archive them promptly; keep original files for photos and videos; build complete chains of evidence containing time, location, and source for important materials; if one platform can no longer host them, leave copies on other legitimate platforms; for crucial public records that cannot survive long-term inside China, make overseas and offline backups; and when facing a mix of true and false information, verify first before sharing.
There is only one goal: to make facts increasingly difficult to completely erase, and to prevent public memory from disappearing along with one “404” censorship error after another.
Deletion still works, yet it is increasingly hard to equate it with total disappearance; blockades can still build high walls, yet it is increasingly hard to guarantee that no one on the other side of the wall will ever see.
If more and more people begin documenting facts on their own, if deleted texts can reappear, if blocked information can cross borders, and if forgotten people and events can re-enter public memory, then can a governance system that relies heavily on information control to sustain its own narrative still keep the “test of the internet” firmly in its grasp forever?
Perhaps what the internet offers us is the very possibility of tearing a crack open in the Iron Curtain.
Not by fighting lies with lies, nor by responding to violence with violence, but by allowing truthful information to flow continuously, allowing deleted facts to resurface, allowing silenced people to regain the opportunity to speak, and allowing people who were once isolated from one another to see each other.
Countering blockades with truth; resisting oblivion with documentation.
We cannot decide how far a piece of information will ultimately travel, nor can we foresee what kind of political change the internet will eventually bring to China. But at the very least, we can ensure that more truthful records are left behind, giving more and more people the opportunity to access diverse information, make independent judgments, and express themselves freely.
“If we fail to pass the test of the internet, we will fail to pass the test of long-term governance.”
Xi Jinping was warning his comrades within the Party, but for everyone who cares about political change in China, there is another side to this statement worth pondering:
When information begins to break through boundaries, when records can no longer be easily erased, and when more and more people regain the ability to document, disseminate, and express—
Could this “internet hurdle” become the very breakthrough for change?
Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Zhou Min Translator: Shen Meihua
