For most Chinese, the Cultural Revolution is a period best left in the past — but not so for fans of the neo-Maoist website Utopia.
The site espouses far left-wing values, which in China can be taken to mean anti-market economy sentiments and a broader desire for a return to the good old days. The website’s Chinese name literally means “a hometown that doesn’t exist” — the site’s fans by and large reject the current embrace of capitalism and see the memory of Mao’s China as a home to which they can’t return.
While there are more than 50 similar websites, Utopia is considered the most prominent and influential. Devotees of the site agree on at least one point: China’s 30 years or so of reform has triggered too many social problems, they say, citing worker layoffs at state-owned enterprises, corruption, and income inequality. In contrast, during the Mao era, people enjoyed economic equality and lived with dignity and respect, the site’s fans assert.
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To be sure, Utopia caters to a niche audience. The website’s operators could not be reached for comment by Sixth Tone, so accurate readership data is unknown. However, a typical article usually attracts between 100 and 200 readers, according to figures that appear below each post. Less appealing pieces might draw only a handful of readers, while popular articles can garner an audience of 500. And on occasion, Utopia hits upon a topic that gains traction beyond its usual readership.
In one such example from earlier this year, Utopia was quick to criticize the construction of a giant Christian church in Changsha, central China’s Hunan province. The story was picked up by local and international media, and many readers expressed dismay over the decision to permit a religious site within close proximity to a park commemorating local heroes and martyrs of communism.
Another recent article on the site responded to the death of a Chinese citizen during the conflict in Myanmar’s Chinese-speaking ethnic Kokang region by calling for China to abandon its current foreign policy toward the country in favor of a more assertive approach.
But outside of pieces that tackle current issues, the majority of Utopia’s content makes one thing overwhelmingly clear: Mao is a favorite topic here, as are his policies and poems. Praise for the former leader is abundant, and Utopia fans are swift to chastise anyone perceived to have criticized him.
On a recent visit to the website, a piece under the headline “Good or Bad: A Test of Real and Fake Patriotism” included a photo of a banner accusing a professor from eastern China’s Shandong Jianzhu University of insulting Mao.
The page had 700 likes and 47 comments, the majority of which overwhelmingly supported the article’s argument that the professor should be ashamed of his appalling misconduct.
Another piece on the site criticizes China’s rural land policy that dates back to the reforms of the late 1970s and sets fixed farm output quotas, describing the policy as a “mess.” The essay calls for China to restore the Mao-era “people’s commune” agricultural policy, similar to the kolkhoz collective farming system of the former Soviet Union.
The design of the website is simple and text-heavy, with sections for articles, commentaries, contributor profiles, and special landing pages — such as one commemorating Mao Zedong’s 123rd birthday, complete with an illustration of a relaxed Mao holding a cigarette amid picturesque countryside scenery.
In addition to the website, Utopia has an official account on messaging app WeChat, though no follower numbers are given. And more than 8,000 items have been posted to Utopia’s Weibo microblog since its creation in 2012, garnering almost 70,000 followers on the Twitter-like platform.
Utopia was established in 2003 by Fan Jinggang — not long after China completed its toughest-ever state-owned enterprise reform program, which effectively put an end to the “iron rice bowl” job stability of China’s state-sector workers. Tens of millions of people lost their jobs. While that shake-up breathed new life into China’s economy, it also left many of the country’s discarded workers bitter.
During the reform, many formerly state-owned factories were sold cheaply to private owners, a move that further angered laid-off employees who believed such moves were orchestrated by greedy capitalists who profited from national assets but didn’t share their wealth with the country’s working class.
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Utopia fan Du Shengpin is one such worker who lost his job in the ’90s. When the fertilizer plant where he worked in Ma’anshan, a city in eastern China’s Anhui province, was shut down in 1998, the then-37-year-old was at a loss. The company to which he had given 19 years of his life offered him no guidance for finding a job in the market economy. “Shouldn’t the government take care of us?” Du asked in a recent telephone interview with Sixth Tone. “Isn’t that the nature of socialism?”
Now working the checkout counter at a small local supermarket, Du earns around 2,000 yuan ($290) per month. Reading articles on Utopia has become one of his favorite pastimes. Utopia enriches his life and grants him an escape from reality, he said, adding that among the topics he’s most passionate about are the country’s expanding wealth gap and corruption. He believes that from the outside, his life appears the same as his coworkers’ — with one crucial departure: “The difference is that I think a lot about these issues,” Du said.
Utopia’s viewpoints frequently deviate from the mainstream, and the website’s willingness to embrace contentious topics has gotten it into trouble in the past. In 2012, the website was shut down for a month, supposedly for violating the Chinese Constitution and maliciously attacking national leaders. Just one month earlier, in March, Party secretary of Chongqing Bo Xilai was suddenly dismissed. Bo, whom some described as a left-wing politician himself and whose supporters frequently sang Mao-era songs, was accused of taking bribes and abusing his power, and was subsequently sentenced to life in prison. While there was no conclusive evidence linking Utopia’s shutdown with Bo’s fall from grace, leftist voices previously amplified by Bo have diminished dramatically since the incident.
Another of Utopia’s favorite causes is defending China’s revolutionary heroes from ridicule — a form of defamation declared a civil offense earlier this month — on social media. In 2013, a liberal-leaning magazine called Annals of the Yellow Emperor doubted the authenticity of a story about five communist soldiers who were widely honored for sacrificing themselves in a bid to mislead Japanese troops during the Second World War, known in China as the Anti-Japan War. Utopia closely followed the case when it went to court and even invited the defense lawyer to give a lecture for Utopia fans at an offline event.
Other figures who have participated in seminars organized by Utopia include Li Chengrui, the former head of the National Bureau of Statistics, and Kong Qingdong, a polemical professor at Peking University who claims to be descended from Confucius.
Utopia is not without its detractors. Wang Feiqiang, 55, said he hates the site’s obsession with the Cultural Revolution, calling the period “a nightmare and disaster for our country.”
“All people over age 50 experienced it,” said Wang, who works as a driver at the Wuhu Cultural Center in Anhui. “And Utopia [fans] say it was good? I think they have Stockholm syndrome.”
Even supermarket worker Du’s own son, Du Jun, agrees with criticisms of the site. “Instead of yearning for the past, we should look forward,” said the 32-year-old, who works in design at a gaming company in Shanghai. “I think some of Utopia’s readers just can’t face the truth,” the younger Du said. “We are living in a China that is much better than before.”
Editor: Colum Murphy.
(Header image: Badges featuring Chairman Mao’s likeness are on display at a private museum in Huaibei, Anhui province, Sept. 8, 2016. VCG)
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Niche readership flocks to Maoist site to reminisce, air grievances. No 
